THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES.  
Translated from the French.  
LONDON: Printed for Awnsham and John Churchil, at the Black Swan in Pater-Noster-Row, MDCXCIX.   

PREFACE.  
THE Original of this Fiece is attributed by the Public Voice to the Archbishop of Cambray: And certainly 'tis not unworthy a Person who was entrusted with the Education of Princes. That Virtue, Wisdom, and Ardent Desire to procure the Good of Mankind, which are interwoven with the following Story, show the fitness of the Author for so great a Trust. The Reason he had to involve his Instructions in Fable, will be obvious to all who shall consider that as he wrote for Princes, who seldom fail to reject all Precepts that are not guilded with Delight; so he Lives under a Monarchy that will not suffer open and undisguised Truth. His Style is Poetical, and Copied from Homer; or rather from Monsieur de la Valterie's Excellent Version of that Divine Poet, which is esteemed a Masterpiece in the Kind. How far this Translation has imitated the Perfections of these Originals, is submitted to the Judgement of Others.   

Lately Printed for A. and J. Churchil,  
THE Historical Library of Diodorus the Sicilian. In fifteen Books. The first Five, contain the Antiquities of Egypt, Asia, Africa, Greece, the Islands, and Europe. The last Ten, an historical Account of the Affairs of the Persians, Grecians, Macedonians, and other Parts of the World. To which are added, The fragments of Diodorus that are found in the Bibliotheca of Photius: Together with those Published by H. Valesius, L. Rhodomannus, and F. Ursinus. Made English by G. Booth, of the City of Chester, Esq in Folio.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES.  
CALYPSO continued Disconsolate for the departure of Ulysses: Her Grief was so violent, that she thought herself unhappy in being Immortal: Her Grotto was no more heard echoing to her tuneful Voice: The Nymphs that served her, durst not venture to speak to her: She often walked alone on the Beach, which was covered with a charming mixture of Green and Flowers quite round the Island: But these beautiful Walks were so far from assuaging her Grief, that they served only to awaken the kill Thoughts of Ulysses, whose Company she had so often enjoyed in those Places: Sometimes she stood still and wept, watering the Banks of the Sea with her Tears, and always turning her Eyes to that side where she had last seen Ulysses his Ship ploughing through the Waves; when on a sudden she perceived the broken pieces of a Vessel that was just then split upon the Rocks, the Oars and Seats of the Rowers scattered here and there upon the Sands, the Mast, Rudder and Cables floating near the Shoar.  
Immediately after this, she discovered two Men at a distance, one of them appearing to be Aged, and the other, though Young, resembling Ulysses; the same sweetness and dignity in his Looks; the same noble Mien and majestic Port. The Goddess presently knew him to be Telemachus, the Son of that Hero. But tho' the Deities of this Order far surpass all Men in Knowledge, yet she could not discover who was the yenerable Person that accompanied Telemachus. For the superior Gods conceal from the inferior whatever they please; and Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor, accompanied Telemachus, would not be known to Calypso.  
In the mean time Calypso overjoyed at this Shipwreck, that had brought the Son of Ulysses, and so like his Father, into her Island, advanced towards him; and without seeming to know who he was; whence had you, said she, the Confidence to enter my Island? Know, young Stranger, that there are Punishments for all those that come within my Empire. Under such menacing Language she endeavoured to cover the joy of her Heart, which for all this, appeared in her Face.  
Telemachus answered, O whoever you are, whether a Mortal or a Goddess (〈◊〉 by your Looks you should be something Divine) can you be insensible of a Son's Misfortune, who seeking his Father, and committing his Life to the mercy of the Winds and Seas, has seen his Ship dashed in pieces against your Rocks? Who, I pray, replied the Goddess, is that Father you seek? He is called Ulysses, said Telemachus; and is one of those Kings, who after a Siege of ten Years, destroyed the famous City of Troy. His Name is celebrated in all Parts of Greece and Asia for his Valour in Fight, and much more for the Wisdom of his Counsels: But now he wanders in unknown Seas, and has passed most astonishing Dangers. His Country seems to fly from him: His Wife Penelope, and I, who am his Son, have lost all hopes of seeing him again. I run the same Hazards he has done, to learn where he is; but what do I say! It may be he is now buried in the profound Abyss of the Sea. O Goddess! Pity our Misfortunes; and if you know what the Fates have done, either to save or destroy Ulysses, disdain not to instruct his Son Telemachus.  
Calypso filled with Amazement and Compassion to find so much Wisdom and Eloquence in so much Youth, could not satiate her Eyes with looking on him, and stood for some time silent. At last she said to him; we will inform you O Telemachus, what has happened to your Father; but the Relation is long, and 'tis more than time to repose after all the Fatigues you have endured. Come into my Habitation, and I will receive you as my Son: Come, you shall be my Consolation in this Solitude, and I will make you happy, if you know how to be so.  
Telemachus followed the Goddess, who was surrounded by a Crowd of young Nymphs, and surpassed them all in Stature, as a well grown Oak of theForest raises his losty Head above the rest of the Trees. He admired the lustre of her Beauty, the rich Purple of her long and floating Robes, her Hair carelessly but gracefully tied behind her Neck, the Fire that darted from her Eyes, and the sweetness that tempered this Vivacity. Mentor, with a modest Silence, and looking towards the Ground, followed Telemachus. Arriving at the entrance of Calypso's Grotto, Telemachus was surprised to see whatever might charm the Eye, covered under the appearance of rural Simplicity. There was neither Gold nor Silver to be seen, no Marble nor Pillars of Stone, no Painting nor Statues. The Grotto was cut into divers Vaults within the Rock, which were incrusted with Shells and Rockwork. The Tapestry was a young Vine, extending its tender Branches equally on every side. The gentle Zephyrs preserved a refreshing coolness in this Place, secure from the scorching Heat of the Sun. Springs of pure Water passed sweetly whispering through the Meadows that were painted with Violets and Amaranthus, and formed divers natural Baths as clear and as bright as Crystal. A thousand Flowers enamell'd the green Turf that surrounded the Grotto. There was an entire Wood of those Trees, that bear golden Apples, and put forth Flowers in every Season, yielding the sweetest of all Perfumes. This Wood seemed to Crown the beautiful Meadows, and made an artificial Night, which the Beams of the Sun could not penetrate. Here nothing was ever heard, but the singing of Birds, or the noise of Waters impetuously precipitating from the Rocks, and gliding away through the Fields.  
The Grotto of the Goddess was on the descent of a Hill, from whence she had a view of the Sea, one while clear and smooth as Glass, at another time vainly angry with the Rocks, swelling into Waves, and breaking to pieces against them: From another side she might see a River, containing many little Islands bordered with flowering Lime-Trees, and lofty Poplars, that reared their stately Heads to the Clouds. The several Channels that formed these Islands, seemed to play and sport between the Banks, some rolling their Waters with rapidity, others more gently and quietly; and others after many windings, returning as it were to the Spring from whence they came, seemed unwilling to leave the charming Place. One might see afar off many Hills and Mountains hiding their Heads in the Clouds, and forming such odd and unusual Figures as were very agreeable to the Eye. The Hills that stood at less distance were covered with Vines, the Grapes of which surpassed the richest Purple in Colour, and could not conceal themselves under the Leaves of the Trees that bowed under the weight of their Fruit. The Figtree, the Olive and the Pomegranate, with all Kind's of other Trees covered the rest of the Country, and made it one entire Garden.  
Calypso having showed Telemachus all these Beauties of Nature, said to him, 'tis time for you to repose, and to change your wet Garments; after which we will see one another again, and I will tell you some Things that shall affect your Heart. Having said this, she caused them both to enter into the most private and retired part of a Grotto, which stood near to that in which she dwelled. Her Nymphs had taken care to light a Fire of Cedar, which filled the Apartment with an agreeable scent, and had left all necessary Apparel for the two Strangers. Telemachus finding that the Goddess had designed him a Tunick of the finest Wool, and white as Snow, with a Vest of Purple, richly embroidered with Gold, was, like a young Man, infinitely pleased with this Magnificence; which Mentor perceiving, he said with a grave and severe Voice, 
Are these, O Telemachus, the Thoughts that ought to possess the Heart of the Son of Ulysses? Think rather to maintain the Reputation your Father has acquired, and to overcome the Persecutions of Fortune. A young Man who loves to dress like a Woman, is unworthy of Wisdom and Glory. The Heart that knows not how to suffer Pain and despise Pleasure, is unfit to possess those glorious Advantages.   
Telemachus with a deep Sigh answered, May the Gods destroy me rather than suffer me to fall under the power of effeminate Pleasures. No! the Son of Ulysses shall never be subdued by the Charms of a soft and unworthy Life: But what Favour of Heaven has brought us to this Goddess, or to this Mortal, who has received us with so much Goodness?  
Tremble, replied Mentor, lest in the end she overwhelm you with Evil; be more afraid of her insinuating Charms, than of the Rocks that split your Ship; Death and Shipwreck are less dreadful than the Pleasures that attack Virtue; be upon your Guard, and beware of believing any thing she shall say to you: Youth is full of Presumption and Arrogance, tho' nothing in the World be so frail; it sears nothing, and vainly relies upon its own Strength; believing all Things with the utmost Levity, and without any Precaution. Beware of harkening to the soft and flattering Words of Calypso, which will slide into your Heart with Pleasure; fear the concealed Poison, distrust yourself, and determine nothing without my Counsel.  
After this they returned to Calypso, who waited for them; and presently her Nymphs, dressed in white, with their Hair tied up, brought in a plain but exquisite Repast, consisting of Birds that they had taken with Nets, and of Venison that they had killed with their Bows. The Wine was sweeter than Nectar, and flowed from Jars of Silver into Golden Bowels, that were crowned with Flowers. All sorts of Fruit that the Spring promises, and Autumn ripens in profusion, were brought in Baskets, and four young Nymphs began to Sing. First, they sung the War of the Gods against the Giants, than the Loves of Jupiter and Semele; the Birth of Bacchus, and his Education under the care of old Silenus; the Race of Atalanta and Hypomenes, who was overcome by means of the Golden Apples that came from the Garden of the Hesperideses. Last of all they Sung the War of Troy, and exalted the Valour and Wisdom of Ulysses to the Heavens. The chief of the Nymphs, whose Name was Leucothoe, accompanied their sweet voices with her Lute. When Telemachus heard the Name of his Father, the Tears that flowed down his Cheeks, gave a new lustre to his Beauty. But Calypso perceiving that he could not Eat, and that he was seized with Grief, made a sign to the Nymphs; and presently they began to Sing the Fight between the Centauris and the Lapithae, and the descent of Orpheus into Hell, to recover his dear Eurydice.  
When they had eaten, the Goddess took Telemachus aside, and said to him; You see, O Son of the Great Ulysses, with what savour I receive you into my Habitation. Yet know, that I am Immortal, and that no Mortal can enter into this Island without being punished for his rash attempt; nay, even your Shipwreck should not secure you from the effects of my Indignation, if I did not love you. Your Father had the same Happiness you now enjoy; but, alas! he knew not how to use it. I detained him a long time in this Island, and, had he been contented, he might have lived with me in an immortal Condition: But a fond Passion to return to his wretched Country, made him reject all these Advantages. You see what he has lost for the sake of the 〈◊〉 of Ithaca, which he shall never see again. He resolved to leave me; he went away, and I was revenged by a Storm. After his Vessel had served for Sport to the Winds, it was buried under the Waves. Make a right use of so sad an Example; for after his Shipwreck, you can neither hope to see him again, nor ever to reign in the Island of Ithaca. Forget this Loss, and remember you have found a Goddess, that offers to make you happy, and to present you with a Kingdom. To these Words Calypso added many more, to show him, how happy Ulysses had been with her. She related his Adventures in the Cave of the Cyclops Polyphemus, and the Disaster that befell him in the Country of Antiphates King of the Lestrigons; not forgetting what happened to him in the Island of Circe, Daughter to the Sun; or the Dangers he passed between Scylla and Charybdis. She represented the last Storm that Neptune had raised against him when he left her, and desired to persuade him, that he had perished in that Shipwreck; but suppressed his arrival in the Island of the Pheacians.  
Telemachus, who at first had too easily abandoned himself to Joy when he found he was so well received by Calypso, now began to perceive her Artifices, and the Wisdom of those Counsels that Mentor had given him. He answered in few Words, O Goddess, pardon my Grief, which at present I cannot overcome; it may be, hereafter I may have more force to relish the Fortune you offer me: Give me leave at this time to Weep for my Father; for you know better than I, how much he deserves to be regretted.  
Calypso not daring to press him any farther on that Subject, feigned to sympathise with him in his Affliction, and to show herself passionately concerned for the loss of Ulysses; but that she might the better find the way to his Heart, she asked him in what manner he had suffered Shipwreck, and by what Adventures he was brought to her Island. The Relation of my Misfortunes, said he, would be too long. No, no, replied she, I am in pain to know them, and therefore give me that Satisfaction. After much solicitation she prevailed with him, and he began thus.  
I parted from Ithaca with intention to inquire of those Kings that were returned from the Siege of Troy, what they knew concerning my Father. The Lovers of my Mother Penelope were surprised at my departure, which I had taken care to conceal from them, because I was well acquainted with their Perfidiousness. But neither Menelaus, who received me with Affection at Lacedaemon, nor Nestor, whom I saw at Pilos, could inform me whether my Father were still alive. Weary with living always in suspense and uncertainty, I resolved to pass into Sicily, where I had heard my Father had been driven by the Winds. But the Sage Mentor who is here present, opposed this rash Design, representing to me on the one hand the Cyclops, who are monstrous Giants that devour Men; on the other, the Fleet of Aeneas and the Trojans, who were upon that Coast. The Trojans, said he, are highly incensed against all the Greeks; but they would take a singular Pleasure to shed the Blood of the Son of Ulysses: Return therefore to Ithaca, it may be your Father, who is a Favourite of Heaven, may arrive there as soon as you: But if the Gods have resolved his Destructino, and he is never more to see his Country, at least it becomes you to revenge him against his Rivals, to deliver your Mother, and to give such proof of your Wisdom to all the People of Greece, that they may know you are as worthy to reign, as ever Ulysses was. This Counsel was useful and honourable, but I had not Prudence enough to follow it, and hearkened only to my own Passion; yet the wise Mentor loved me to such a degree, that he condescended to accompany me in that Voyage, which I rashly undertook against his Advice.  
Whilst he spoke, Calypso looked earnestly, and not without Astonishment upon Mentor. She thought she perceived something Divine in him, but could not disentangle the confusion of her Thoughts; which caused her to continue apprehensive and diffident in the presence of this unknown Person. But fearing above all Things to discover the disorder of her Mind, she desired Telemachus to proceed, which he did in this manner.  
We had the Wind favourable for some time after our departure for Sicily; but then, a violent Storm arising, deprived us of the view of Heaven, and involved us in the obscurity of Night: Yet by some flashes of Lightning, we perceived other Ships exposed to the same Danger, which when we understood to be the Fleet of AEneas, we thought them no less formidable to us than the Rocks themselves. In that Moment I comprehended, tho' too late, what the Heat of imprudent Youth had hindered me from considering before. Mentor, in the midst of this Danger, appeared not only Resolute and Intrepid, but more cheerful than he used to be. 'Twas he that inspired me with Resolution, and I felt the extraordinary force of his Encouragements. He gave out all necessary Orders, when the Pilot knew not what to do. I said to him, my dear Mentor, why did I refuse to follow your Counsels? Am I not unhappy, to act by my own Advice, at such an Age, as has no foresight of Futurity, no experience of things past, nor moderation to govern the present? O! If ever we escape this Storm, I resolve to distrust myself, as I would my most dangerous Enemy, and to believe you alone for ever. To this Mentor answered smiling; I shall not blame you for the Fault you have committed: 'Tis enough that you are sensible of it, and make it serve you hereafter to moderate your Desires. But perhaps when the Danger is past, Presumption will return. We may now be apprehensive, and endeavour to prevent the worst; but if all we can do, prove ineffectual, we have nothing left but a generous Contempt. Show yourself worthy of such a Father, and let your Courage be greater than the Dangers that threaten. I was charmed with the sweetness and magnanimity of the wise Mentor; but I was much more surprised, when I saw with what dexterity he brought about our Deliverance.  
The Trojans were so near, that they could not fail to discover who we were, as soon as the Light should appear; which Mentor knowing, and in that Instant perceiving one of their Ships which was separated from the rest of the Fleet, to be something like ours, except certain Garlands of Flowers that she carried at her Stern, he hung up the same sorts of Flowers on the same part of our Ship, and fastened them himself with Ribbons of the same Colour with those of the Trojans. He ordered the Rowers to bow themselves as low as the Oar would permit, that they might not be discovered by the Enemy. In this manner we passed through the midst of their Fleet, whilst they shouted for Joy to see us, supposing we were their Companions, which they thought to be lost. We were forced along with them by the violence of the Wether for a considerable time; but at last we found means to keep a little behind, and whilst they were driven by the Winds towards the Shoar of Africa, we exerted our utmost Efforts to make the nearest Coast of Sicily.  
We arrived, as we designed; but that which we sought, proved almost as fatal to us, as the Fleet we avoided; we found more Trojans, and consequently Enemies to all Greeks; for old Acestes reigned in these Parts. As soon as we got Ashore, the Inhabitants, thinking us to be either some other People of the Island come to surprise them, or else Strangers that designed to seize their Country, burnt our Ship, killed our Companions, and reserved only Mentor and me to be presented to Acestes, that we might inform him of our Designs, and whence we came. We were brought into the Town with our Hands tied behind our Backs, and our Death was deferred, only to make us a Spectacle to a cruel People, as soon as they should know we were Greeks.  
We were without delay presented to Acestes, who sat with a golden Sceptre in his Hand, distributing Justice, and preparing himself for a great Sacrifice. He asked us with a severe Voice, of what Country we were, and the occasion of our Voyage. Mentor answered, We come from the Coasts of the great Hesperia, and our Country is not far from thence: By this means he avoided to say that we were Greeks. But Acestes would hear no more, and taking us for Persons that concealed some bad Design, he commanded us to be sent into a Neighbouring Forest, there to serve as Slaves to those who looked after the Cattle. This Condition seemed more terrible to me than Death. I cried out, O King, order us rather to suffer Death, than to be treated so unworthily: Know, that I am Telemachus the Son of the wise Ulysses, King of the Ithacians. I seek my Father in all parts of the World; and if I can neither find him, nor return to my Country, nor avoid Servitude, take that Life from me, which I cannot bear. Scarce had I pronounced these Words, when all the People in a Rage cried out, That the Son of the cruel Ulysses must die, whose Artifices had destroyed the City of Troy.  
O Son of Ulysses, said Acestes, I cannot refuse your Blood to the Ghosts of so many Trojans, that your Father precipitated into the Waters of the black Cocytus. You and your Conductor shall die. At the same time an Old Man of the Company proposed to the King, that we should be Sacrificed upon the Tomb of Anchises. Their Blood, said he, will be grateful to the Soul of that Hero. AEneas himself, when he hears of this Sacrifice, will be overjoyed to see how much you love what was dearer to him than all other Things in the World. Every One applauded this Proposition, and nothing remained but to put it in Execution. We were led to the Tomb of Anchises, where two Altars were erected, and the Sacred Fire kindled. The Knife was brought, we were Crowned with Garlands, and no Composition would be accepted to save our Lives. Our Fate was determined, when Mentor calmly desired to speak to the King; and having received Permission, said, O Acestes, if the Misfortunes of Young Telemachus, who never carried Arms against the Trojans, may not plead for him, at least let your own Interest move you. The Knowledge I have acquired to predict the Will of the Gods, informs me, That before the end of three Days, you shall be attacked by a barbarous People, who will come down like a Torrent from the Mountains, to destroy your City, and ravage your whole Country. Hasten to prevent them, Arm your People, and from this moment begin to secure within these Walls all the Riches you have in the Fields. If my Prediction be false, you may Sacrifice us when the three Days are expired; but if on the contrary it prove true, remember, That no One ought to take away the Lives of those, by whom his own was preserved. Acestes was astonished at these Words, which Mentor spoke with more assurance than he had ever found in any Man. I see, said he, O Stranger, That the Gods who have granted you so small a share in the Favours of Fortune, have in Recompense given you such Wisdom, as is more valuable than the highest Prosperity. At the same time he put off the Sacrifice, and issued out all necessary Orders with the utmost Diligence, to prevent the Attack that Mentor had foretold. On all sides were to be seen Old Men and Women trembling for fear, and accompanied with great numbers of Young Children, bathed in Tears, and retiring into the City. The lowing Oxen and bleating Sheep, left the rich Pastures and came along in confusion; but their number was too great, to find places to contain them all. The Noise and Tumult of People pressing to get in, was such, that no One could understand another. In this Disorder, some took an unknown Person for their Friend, and others ran, tho' they knew not whether. But the Principal Men of the City, thinking themselves wiser than the rest, suspected Mentor to be an Impostor, who had predicted a Falsehood to save his Life. Yet before the third Day was expired, whilst they were full of these Imaginations, a Cloud of Dust was seen rising upon the descent of the Neighbouring Hills; an innumerable Multitude of Barbarians appeared in Arms, and all those who had despised the wise Prediction of Mentor, lost all their Slaves and their Cattle. Upon this, the King said to Mentor; I forget that you are Greeks; our Enemies are become our faithful Friends; the Gods have sent you to save us; I expect no less from your Valour, than from the Wisdom of your Words: Hasten therefore to assist us.  
Mentor showed in his Eyes a boldness, that was sufficient to astonish the fiercest Warrior. He takes up a Shield, a Helmet, a Sword and a Lance: He draws up the Soldiers of Acestes, puts himself at their Head, and advances in good Order towards the Enemy. Acestes, tho' full of Courage, could not follow him, but at a distance, by reason of his Age. I followed him more close. But nothing can equal his Valour. In the Fight, his Helmet resembled the immortal One of Minerva. Death flew from Rank to Rank, wherever his Blows fell: As a Lion of Numidia, provoked by cruel Hunger, falling upon a Flock of unresisting Sheep, kills, tears, and swims in Blood: Whilst the Shepherds far from assisting their Flock, fly trembling away from his Fury.  
These Barbarians, who hoped to surprise the City, were themselves surprised and defeated. The Subjects of Acestes were animated by the Example and Words of Mentor; and felt a Vigour which they thought not to be in them. With my Lance I killed the Son of the Barbarian King. He was of my Age, but much higher than I am; for this People is descended from Giants, and of the same Race with the Cyclops. He despised so weak an Enemy; but I, not at all daunted with his prodigious Strength, or his fierce and savage Looks, pushed my Lance against his Breast, and made his Soul gush out at the Wound in a Torrent of black and reeking Blood. As he fell he was like to crush me in pieces by his Fall. The sound of his Arms echoed in the Hills. I took the Spoil, and returned to Acestes with the Arms I had gained from this formidable Enemy. Mentor having entirely broken the Barbarians, pursued them to the Woods, and cut them in pieces. This unexpected Success made Mentor to be regarded, as one cherished and inspired by the Gods: And Acestes from a sense of Gratitude, showed his Concernment for us if the Fleet of Aeneas should return to Sicily. He gave us a Ship to carry us to our own Country; made us many and rich Presents, and pressed us to hasten our Departure, that we might prevent any Mischief. But he would not give us either a Pilot, or Mariners of his own Nation, sor fear they might be exposed to too much Hazard upon the Coast of Greece. He committed us to the care of certain Phenician Merchants, who Trading with all the People of the World, had no occasion to fear, and ordered them to bring back the Ship, when they had left us safe in Ithaca. But the Gods, who sport with the Designs of Men, had reserved us for farther Calamities.  
The Tyrians by their Insolence had highly provoked the King of Egypt, whose name was Sesostris, and who had conquered many Kingdoms. The Riches they had acquired by Trade, and the impregnable Strength of Tyre, which stands situated in the Sea, had rendered this People so Proud, that they not only refused to pay the Tribute which Sesostris imposed upon them in his ruturn from the Conquests he had made, but assisted his Brother with Forces, who had conspired to murder him on the Festival that was appointed to be celebrated on account of his great Victories. For these Reasons Sesostris resolved to humble them, by ruining their Commerce at Sea, and commanded all his Ships to seek out and assault the Phoenicians. One of his Fleets met with us, as soon as we lost sight of the Sicilian Mountains, when the Harbour and Land seemed to fly from behind us, and lose themselves in the Clouds. At the same time we saw the Egyptian Ships advancing towards us like a sloating City. The Phoenicians perceived, and endeavoured to avoid them, but 'twas too late. Their Ships were better Sailors, their Mariners more numerous, the Wind favoured them, they Boarded us, Took us, and carried us Prisoners to Egypt. I told them, but in vain, that I was no Phenician, they hardly vouchsafed to hear me; they looked upon us as Slaves, in which Merchandise they knew the Phoenicians traded, and thought only of making the best of their Prize. We arrived in the Island of Pharos, and rom thence were carried up the Nile to Memphis. If the Grief we felt by reason of our Captivity, had not rendered us insensible to all Pleasure, our Eyes would have been charmed with the fruitful Country of Egypt, like a delicious Garden every where Watered with the purest Streams. We could not turn our Eyes on either side of the River, without discovering many opulent Islands; great numbers of well situated Villas; Lands richly covered with a golden Harvest; Meadows full stocked with Cattle; Labourers bowing under the weight of the Fruits they had gathered, and Shepherds that made the Echoes on every side repeat the sweet sound of their Pipes and Flutes.  
Happy, said Mentor, is the People, who are governed by a wise King: They live in Plenty and Contentment, and love him to whom they owe their Felicity. Thus, said he, O Telemachus you ought to Reign, and be the Joy of your People. If ever the Gods give you the Possession of your Father's Kingdom, love your People as your Children; feel the Pleasure of being beloved by them, and carry yourself so, that all the Tranquillity and Pleasure they enjoy, may lead them to remember, that they are the rich Presents of a good King: Kings who make it their only business to render themselves formidable to their own Subjects, and to impoverish them in order to make them more submissive, are the Plagues of Mankind. They are perhaps feared, as they desire; but they are hated, detested, and have more reason to be afraid of their Subjects, than their Subjects have to fear them.  
I answered, alas, Mentor, 'Tis not now the Question, by what Maxims a King ought to Reign. We shall never see Ithaca again. We shall never see our Country or Penelope more; and tho' Ulysses should return full of Glory to his Kingdom, he would never have the satisfaction of seeing me there; nor I that of obeying him, and learning the Rules of Government from him. No, Let us die, dear Mentor; for we must have no other Thoughts: Let us die, since the Gods have no Compassion for us. As I spoke, my Words were interrupted with sighs. But Mentor, tho' he could be apprehensive of approaching Evils, knew not what it was to fear them when they had happened. Unworthy Son of the wise Ulysses, cried he, Dost thou suffer thyself to be overcome by thy Misfortunes? Know that you shall one Day see both Ithaca and Penelope. You shall see what your Eyes have never seen, The invincible Ulysses in his former Glory: He, whom Fortune cannot Conquer, and who in greater Misfortune admonishes us never to Despair. O! if he should hear in the Regions, where he is driven by the Winds and Sea, that his Son knows not how to imitate him, either in Patience or Courage, such News would overwhelm him with Shame, and prove more heavy than all the Misfortunes he has yet suffered.  
After this Mentor caused me to observe the Fertility and Happiness that was seen over all the Country of Egypt, which contained Two and twenty thousand Cities. He admired the regular Government of these Places; the distribution of Justice, which was every where exercised with great regard to the Poor; the good Education of Children, who were inur'd early to Obedience, Labour, Sobriety, Arts or Learning; the due observation of all the Ceremonies of Religion, a generous and disinterested Spirit, a great desire of Reputation, an universal Sincerity in their Dealings with Men, and a just Reverence of the Gods; which every Father took care to infuse into his Children. He thought he could never enough admire this beautiful Order. He would often cry out in a Rapture of Joy, O! how happy is that People, which is thus governed by a wise King! But yet more happy is that King, who when he has provided for the Happiness of so great a People, can find himself happy in his own Virtue. Such a one is more than feared; he is beloved. Men not only Obey him; but they Obey him with Pleasure. He Reigns universally in their Hearts; and every Man is so far from desiring his Death, that he fears it above all Misfortunes, and would readily sacrifice his Life for him.  
I hearkened with Attention to what Mentor said; and as he spoke, I found my Courage to revive in the bottom of my Heart. As soon as we were arrived at the rich and magnificent City of Memphis, the Governor commanded us to be sent to Thebes, in order to be presented to King Sesostris, who being highly incensed against the Tyrians, had resolved to examine us himself. So we proceeded in our Voyage up the River Nile, till we came to the famous Thebes, which has a Hundred Gates, and serves for a Habitation to that great King. This City appeared to us of a vast Extent, and more Populous than the most flourishing Cities of Greece. The Orders are Excellent, in all that regards the neatness and conveniency of the Streets, the course of the public Waters; the Baths; the advancement of Arts and Sciences, and the common Safety. The Piazza's are adorned with Fountains and Obelisks. The Temples are Marble; of plain, but majestic Architecture. The Palace of the Prince is like a great City; 'tis full of Marble Pillars, Pyramids, Obelisks and vast Statues, with Movables of solid Gold and Silver. They who took us, informed the King, that they found us on board a Phenician Ship. For he had certain Hours of every Day, in which he regularly heard all his Subjects, that had any thing to say to him, either by way of Complaint or Advice. He neither despised nor rejected any Man, and knew he was King for no other end, than to do Good to his Subjects, whom he loved as his Children. Strangers also he received with Kindness, and was always desirous to see them; because he thought it a useful and advantageous Thing to be informed of the Customs and Maxims of remote Nations; and this Curiosity of the King was the principal Cause that we were brought before him. When he saw me, he was upon a Throne of Ivory, with a golden Sceptre in his Hand. He was Aged, but Comely, full of Sweetness and Majesty. He daily distributed Justice to the People, with such Patience and Wisdom, as made him admired without Flattery. After he had spent the whole Day in doing Justice, and taking care of the public Affairs, he usually passed the Evening in hearing the Discourses of learned Men, or conversing with the best of his People, whom he knew how to choose, and admit into his Familiarity. During his whole Life he could not be blamed for any thing, except for triumphing with too much Pomp over the Kings he had Conquered, and trusting a Man whose Picture I shall draw by and by. He was moved with my Youth and my Affliction, and asked me my Country and my Name, whilst we wondered at the Wisdom that spoke by his Mouth. I answered You have undoubtedly heard, O Great King, of the Siege of Troy, which lasted ten Years, and the destruction of that City, which cost so much Grecian Blood. Ulysses, my Father, was one of the principal Kings who ruin'd that Place. He now wanders through all the Seas, without being able to return to the Island of Ithaca, which is his Kingdom. I seek my Father, and by a Misfortune equal to his own, have been surprised and taken Prisoner. Restore me to my Father and Country, and may the Gods preserve You to your Children, and make them sensible of the Pleasure of living under so good a Father.  
Sesostris continued to look upon me with an Eye of Compassion; but being desirous to know if what I said was true, he referred us to be examined by one of his Officers, commanding him to inquire of those that took our Ship, whether we were Greeks or Phoenicians. If they are Phoenicians, said the King, they must be doubly punished, first because they are our Enemies, and then, because they have endeavoured to deceive us by a base Falsehood. But if on the contrary they are Greeks, I will have them to be treated favourably, and sent back into their own Country in one of my Ships; For I love the Greeks, who have received many Laws from the Egyptians. I am not ignorant of the Virtues of Hercules, the Glory of Achilles has reached our Ears, and I admire what I have heard of the Wisdom of the unhappy Ulysses. I have no greater Pleasure than to assist unfortunate Virtue.  
The Officer to whom the King had referred the Examination of our Business, had a Heart as Corrupted and Malicious, as Sesostris was Sincere and Generous. The Name of this Man was Metophis. He endeavoured to ensnare us by artificial Questions; and when he saw that Mentor answered with more Wisdom than I, he looked upon him with Aversion and Diffidence; for ill Men are always Enemies to the Good. He caused ut to be separated, and from that time I knew not what became of Mentor. This Separation was to me, as if I had been struck with Thunder. Metophis was not without hopes, that by a separate Examination, we might be drawn to say contrary Things. At least he thought to dazzle my Eyes with his flattering Promises, and make me acknowledge what Mentor had concealed from him. In a Word, he sought not to find out the Truth; but by any means to get a pretence to tell the King we were Phenicians, that he might keep us for his Slaves.  
In effect, notwithstanding our Innocence, and all the Wisdom of the King, he found out a way to deceive him. 
Alas! How are Kings exposed? The wisest are often abused by Men of Artifice and Interest, that are about them. Good Men retire from Courts, because they are neither Presumptuous nor Flatterers. They wait till they are sent for; and Princes seldom know how to send for them. On the other Hand, ill Men are Bold, Deceitful, Impudent and Insinuating; dextrous at Dissembling, and ready to do any thing against Honour and Conscience, to gratify the Passions of the Person that Reigns. O! how unhappy is that King, who is open to the Artifices of bad Men? He is lost if he does not suppress Flattery, and love those who speak the Truth with Confidence.  These were the Reflections I made in my Misfortunes, when I called to mind the things that I had heard from Mentor.  
In the mean time Metophis sent me towards the Mountains of the Desert with his Slaves, that I might serve with them to look after his numerous Flocks. Here Calypso interrupted Telemachus, and said, Well! and what did you then? You, that in Sicily had preferred Death before Servitude. Telemachus answered, My Misfortunes increased Daily; I had no longer the wretched liberty of choosing between Slavery and Death; I was compelled to be a Slave, and to exhaust all the rigours of Fortune. I had lost all hope, and could not say one word in order to my Deliverance. Mentor has since told me, that he was sold to certain Ethiopians, and that he followed them to Ethiopia.  
As for me, I arrived in a horrid Desert, where nothing but burning Sands was to be seen upon the Plains, and Snow that never melted made an eternal Winter on the tops of the Hills. Only some scattered Pasture for the Cattle was here and there found among the Rocks. In the midst of these Precipices, the Valleys are so profound, that the Sun can scarce let fall a Beam upon them. I found no other Men in these Places than Shepherds, as savage as the Country itself. There I passed the Nights in bewailing my Misfortune, and the Days in following my Flock, to avoid the brutal Rage of Buffus, who was chief among the Slaves, and who hoping to obtain his Liberty, never ceased from Calumniating the rest, that he might persuade Metophis of his Zeal and Industry in his Service. On this occasion, Impatience was pardonable. In the anguish of my Heart I one Day forgot my Flock, and lay down upon the Grass by a Cave, where I expected Death to relieve me from the Evils I was not able to bear. In that Instant I perceived the Mountain to tremble, the Oaks and Pines seeming to descend from the summet of the Hill: The Winds suppressed their Breathing, and a hollow Voice issuing out of the Cave pronounced these Words. 
O Son of the wise Ulysses, thou art to be like him, great by Patience. Princes who have always been happy, are seldom worthy to be so: They are corrupted by unmanly Pleasures, and drunk with the Pride of Prosperity. Happy shalt thou be, if thou canst surmount these Misfortunes, and always remember thy present Condition: Thou shalt certainly see Ithaca again, and thy Glory shall ascend to the Heavens: When thou shalt command Men, remember that thou hast been like them in Poverty, Weakness and Calamity. Take a Pleasure in being good to them; love thy People, detest Flatterers, and know that there is no other way to be truly great, than by Moderation and Fortitude to overcome thy Passions.   
These divine Words penetrated to the bottom of my Heart; renewed my Joy, and revived my Courage: I felt-none of that Horror which makes men's Hair stand upright, and chills the Blood in their Veins, when the Gods communicate themselves to Mortals. I rose from the Ground with Cheerfulness; I fell upon my Knees; and lifting up my Hands to Heaven, I adored Minerva, who, I doubted not, had sent me this Oracle. In that Moment, I found myself a new Man; Wisdom enlightened my Mind; I found a gentle Force restraining all my Passions, and checking the impetuosity of my Youth. I acquired the Love of all the Shepherds in the Desert. My Patience, Sweetness and Diligence moved even the cruel Buffus to relent, who commanded the rest of the Slaves, and had made it his Business at first to torment me. I endeavoured to procure some Books to enable me to support the tediousness of my Captivity and Solitude; for I was exceedingly uneasy for want of some Instructions to nourish and sustain the Faculties of my Soul. 
Happy, said I, are they, who quitting all violent Pleasures, know how to content themselves with an innocent Life. Happy are they, who are diverted with what they learn, and please themselves in enriching their Minds with Knowledge, wheresoever they are driven by the unjust Persecutions of Fortune! They carry their own Entertainment with them; and the uneasiness that lies upon all other Men, even in the midst of the greatest Pleasures, is unknown to those, who know how to employ themselves in Reading.  These Men are truly happy, whilst I am deprived of this Felicity. Revolving these Thoughts in my Mind, I penetrated into the thickest of the Forest, and on a sudden perceived an aged Man holding a Book in his Hand. His Forehead was large and high, unfurnished with Hair, and somewhat wrinkled: His white Beard descended to his Girdle: He was tall, and of a majestic Port: His Complexion was fresh and well Coloured. His Eyes lively and piercing. His Voice sweet, and his Discourse plain, but agreeable. I never saw so venerable an old Man. His name was Termosiris. He was a Priest of Apollo, and the Temple where he served was of Marble, dedicated to that God, and founded by the Kings of Egypt in this Forest.  
He accosted me in a friendly manner: We talked together: He related Things passed with such clearness, that they seemed present; but his Relations were always attended with brevity, and never tedious. He could predict Things future, by his profound Wisdom, which gave him a thorough Knowledge of Men, and the Designs the are capable of forming. With all this Prudence, he was Cheerful and Complaisant; and the gayest Youth does nothing with so much Grace as this aged Man. He loved those that were Young, if he found them Teachable, and if they had any taste of Virtue. He soon conceived a tender Affection for me, and gave me Books for my Consolation: He called me his Son; and I often said to him, Father, The Gods that took Mentor from me, have pitied my Solitude, and sent me in You another support. This Man like Orpheus or Linus was doubtless inspired by the Gods.  
He would sometimes read to me the Verses he had made, and give me the most excellent Compositions of those Poets, who had been the principal Favourites of the Muses.  
When he put on his long Robes of the purest White, and took his golden Harp in his Hand, the Tigers, the Bears and the Lions came to lie down by him, and licked his Feet. The Satyrs abandoned the Woods to come and Dance about him. The Trees themselves seemed to move; and you would have thought that the Rocks had been touched with the Charms of his sweet Accents, and were going to descend from the tops of the Mountains. He sung the Grandeur of the Gods, the Virtue of Hero's, and the Wisdom of those who prefer Glory before Pleasure.  
He often told me that I ought to take Courage, and that the Gods would not abandon either Ulysses or his Son. He exhorted me to imitate Apollo, and persuade the Shepherds to apply themselves to the Muses. Apollo, said he, considering with Indignation, that the brightest Days were frequently disturbed by Jupiter's Thunder, resolved to be revenged upon the Cyclops, who made the Bolts, took up his Bow, and pierced them with his Arrows. Upon this, Mount Aetna ceased to vomit Cylinders of Fire; and Men no longer heard the terrible Hammers striking upon the Anvil, and echoing in Groans from the Abysses of Earth and Sea. The Iron and the Brass abandoned by the Cyclopes began to rust. Vulcan in Fury quits his dreadful Forge, and notwithstanding his Lameness, mounts Olympus with Expedition; comes covered with black Dust and Sweat into the Assembly of the Gods, and makes a most bitter Complaint. Jupiter, incensed against Apollo, drove him from Heaven, and precipitated him down to the Earth. His empty Chariot performed the usual course of itself, and gave Men Night and Day, with a regular change of Seasons. Apollo deprived of his glorious Beams, was forced to turn Shepherd, and keep the Sheep of King Admetus. He played upon the Flute, and all the other Shepherds came down to the shady Elms and silver Streams to hear his Songs. To that time they had lived a savage and brutal Life: They knew only how to guide their Flocks, to sheer them, to draw their Milk, and to make Cheeses: The whole Country was one frightful Desert.  
Apollo in a short time made all the Shepherds acquainted with the Pleasures of a rural Life. He sung the Flowers that compose the Garland of the Spring; the beautiful Greene's, and the sweet Perfumes of that agreeable Season. He sung the delicious Nights of Summer, when the Zephyrs refresh Mankind, and the Dews alley the Thirst of the Earth. He forgot not in his Songs the golden Harvest and autumnal Fruits, which recompense the Toil of the Husbandman; nor the Recreations of Winter, when the wanton Youth dance before the glowing Fire. He represented the Groves and shady Forests that cover the Hills; the hollow Valleys, and the Rivers that wind themselves about the lovely Meadows. He taught the Shepherds what are the Charms of a Country Life, when Men know how to relish the Presents of pure and uncorrupted Nature. The Shepherds with their Flutes soon saw themselves more happy than Kings, and their Cottages were filled with variety of innocent Pleasures, no where to be found in guilded Palaces. Harmless Sports, unaffected Graces, and innocent Joys, accompanied the Shepherdesses wheresoever they went.  
Every Day was a Festival: Nothing was heard but the Singing of Birds, or the soft whispering of the Zephyrs, as they were playing about the Branches of the Trees, or the murmur of Waters falling from the Rocks, or Songs that were inspired by the Muses, and sung by the Shepherds that followed Apollo. This God taught them also to be victorious in Races, and to pierce the Hinds and Stags with their Arrows. The Gods themselves became jealous of the Shepherds. This sort of Life appeared to them more ravishing than all their Glory. They called Apollo back again to Heaven.  
My Son, This Story may serve for your Instruction, since you are in the same Condition Apollo was. Manure this uncultivated Ground; make a Desert flourish, as he did; like him, teach the Shepherds what are the Charms of Harmony; polish the roughness of their Minds; show them the beauty of Virtue, and make them feel how sweet it is to enjoy in this Solitude those innoeent Pleasures that nothing can take away from Shepherds. A Time will come, my Son, a Time will come, when the Toils and Cares that encompass Kings, will make you regret a pastoral Life.  
Termosiris having said this, presented me with a Flute, so sweet, that the Echoes of the Hills, which carried the sound on every side, drew all the neighbouring Shepherds presently about me. My Voice was divinely Harmonious, I felt myself moved, as by a superior Power, to sing the Beauties that Nature has bestowed upon the Country. We passed the Days, and part of the Nights in Singing together. All the Shepherds forgot their Cottages and their Flocks, to stay with me whilst I gave them Lessons. The savage Rudeness of our Deserts disappeared all Things seemed to look Gay and Pleasant; and the politeness of the Inhabitants communicated itself to the Country. We frequently met to Sacrifice in the Temple of Apollo, where Termosir is officiated as Priest. The Shepherds went thither Crowned with Laurel, in Honour of the God. We made a Country Feast; and the most delicious of our Fare, was the Milk of our Goats and Sheep, with various Fruits, fresh gathered with our own Hands, such as Dates, Figs and Grapes: Our Seats were the green Turf, and our spreading Trees afforded us a Shade, more Pleasant than the guilded Roofs in the Palaces of Kings. But that which above all other Things made me famous among our Shepherds, was, That one Day a hungry Lion fell upon my Flock; already he had begun a dreadful Slaughter; I had nothing in my Hand but my Crook, yet I advanced boldly. The Lion erects his Mane, gnashes his Teeth, unsheaths his dreadful Claws, and opens his parched and inflamed Throat. His Eyes were full of Blood and Fire; and he lashed his Flanks with his Tail. I took him by the Throat, and threw him upon the Ground. The little Coat of Mail that I wore, according to the Custom of the Egyptian Shepherds, hindered him from tearing my Body. Thrice I threw him upon his Back, and Thrice he raised himself again, roaring so loud, that he was heard through all the Forests. At last I threw him to the Ground, and Strangled him with my Hands. The Shepherds who were Witnesses of my Victory, obliged me to wear the Skin of this terrible Animal.  
The Fame of this Action, and the wonderful alteration that had happened among our Shepherds, spread through Egypt, and came to the Ear of Sesostris. He was informed that one of the two Captives, who had been taken for Phoenicians, had restored the Golden Age to his inhospitable Deserts. He resolved to see me, for he loved the Muses; and his great Soul was affected with whatsoever might be useful to Mankind. He saw me; he heard me with Pleasure, and discovered that Metophis had deceived him through Covetousness. He condemned him to a perpetual Prison, and seized his Riches, which he unjustly pofsessed. 
O! said he, how unhappy is the Man, who is placed above the rest of Men! He can seldom see the Truth with his own Eyes: He is surrounded by those who keep the Truth from approaching him: Their Interest leads them to deceive him Every one conceals his Ambition under the appearance of Zeal. They pretend to love the King; but indeed love only the Riches he can give. Nay, they love him so little, that to obtain his Favours, they flatter and betray him.   
From this time Sesostris treated me with a tender Friendship; and resolved to send me back to Ithaca, with a powerful assistance of Ships and Troops, to deliver Penelope from the Persecutions of her Lovers. The Fleet was ready, and we thought of nothing but Embarking. I admired the strange Conduct of Fortune, to exalt those on a sudden that she has most depressed. This Experience made me hope that Ulysses might return at last to his Kingdom after all his Sufferings; and I thought it not impossible to see Mentor again, tho' he had been carried into the farthest parts of Ethiopia. Whilst I delayed my departure to inquire after him, Sesostris, who was very Aged, died suddenly, and his Death brought all my Misfortunes back upon me. All Egypt became sensible of this irreparable Loss. Every Family knew they had lost their best Friend, their Protector, their Father. The old Men lifting their Hands to Heaven, cried out with a lamentable Voice, Egypt never had so good a King, and never will have one like him. O ye Gods, you should never have shown him to Men, or never have taken him away: Why do we survive the Great Sesostris? The young Men said, The hopes of Egypt are vanished. Our Fathers were happy to live under so good a King.  
Multitudes of People from the remotest Parts, came running to Thebes during forty Days. Every one was desirous to preserve the Idea of him; and many to be buried with him. But their Grief was yet farther aggravated: For they knew that his Son Boccoris had neither Humanity for Strangers, nor Affection for Knowledge, nor Esteem for virtuous Men, nor Desire of Glory. The greatness of his Father had contributed to make him unworthy to Reign. He had been educated in an effeminate Softness, and brutal Pride. He accounted Men as nothing, believing them made only to be his Slaves, and himself to be of a Nature different from them. He thought of nothing but how he might gratify his Passions; dissipate the vast Treasures his Father had husbanded with so much Care; oppress the People; satiate himself with the Blood of the Unfortunate, and follow the flattering Counsels of young Fools, that he kept about him, whilst he treated with the utmost Contempt all the ancient Sages, who had been entrusted by his Father. In a Word, he was a Monster, and not a King. All Egypt groaned under him; and tho' the name of Sesostris, which was so dear to the Egyptians, made them support the base and cruel Conduct of his Son: Yet he made haste to Ruin; for 'twas impossible that a Prince so unworthy of the Throne, should Reign long.  
As for me, I thought no more of returning to Ithaca: I was confined to a Tower that stands by the Sea near Pelusium, where I should have embarked, if Sesostris had not died. Metophis had been freed from his Imprisonment, and received into Favour by the new King. 'Twas he that caused my Confinement, to revenge the Disgrace I had brought upon him. I passed the Days and Nights in the profoundest Melancholy. All the Things which Termosiris had foretold, and those that I had heard from the Cave, appeared to me to be but Dreams. I was ready to sink under the weight of my Grief. I saw the Waves beating at the foot of the Tower where I was Prisoner. I often employed my time, in observing the Ships that were overtaken by Storms, and in danger to be split against the Rocks, upon which the Tower was built. Far from pitying these Men, who were threatened with Shipwreck, I envied their Condition. In a short time, said I to myself, they will see an end of all their Misfortunes, or arrive in their own Country. But, Alas! I can hope for neither. Whilst thus I consumed away in useless Regrets, I perceived as a Forest of Masts; the Sea was covered with Ships, and the Winds filled all their Sails. The Waters turned into a Foam under the Strokes of innumerable Oars. I heard a confused Noise on every side. I saw one part of the Egyptians upon the Shore, terrified, and running to their Arms, whilst others seemed going to receive the Fleet, which they saw arriving. I soon perceived that part of these Ships were of Phenicia, and the rest of the Island of 〈◊〉 For my Misfortunes began to render me experienced in every thing that relates to Navigation. The Egyptians were divided among themselves. And I doubted not that the foolish King, had by his Violences caused his Subjects to Revolt, and raised a Civil War. I was Spectator of a bloody Battle from the top of my Tower.  
That part of the Egyptians who had invited these Foreigners to their Assistance, having favoured their Descent, fell upon the other Egyptians, who had the King at their Head. I saw this King encouraging his Men by his own Example. He appeared like the God of Battle. Streams of Blood ran down by his side. The Wheels of his Chariot were died with black, thick and foaming Gore, and could hardly move, for the numbers of dead Men that lay in the way. This young King, vigorous of Body, fierce and haughty in his Looks, had Rage and Despair painted on his Face. He was like a beautiful Horse that has no Mouth. His Courage pushed him on to Danger; but he had no prudence to moderate his Valour. He knew neither how to repair a Fault, nor to give the necessary Orders, nor to foresee the Dangers that threatened, nor to manage his Men to the best Advantage. 'Twas not, that he wanted Understanding; his Quickness was as great as his Courage; but he had never been instructed by Adversity. His Masters had poisoned his good Nature with their Flattery: He was drunk with his own Power and Felicity: He thought every thing must yield to his impetuous Desires. The least Resistance put him into a Rage: He consulted his Reason no longer; his Pride transformed him into a Savage Beast; his natural Goodness forsook him in an instant; the most faithful of his Servants were forced to fly from him, and he considered none but those who flattered his Passions. By this means he always 〈◊〉 into Extremities, against his true Interest, and made all honest Men detest his foolish Conduct. His Valour sustained him for a long time against the multitude of his Enemies; but at last he was born down with Numbers. I saw him perish; the Arrow of a Phenician pierced his Breast: He sunk down in his Chariot, and not being able to hold the Reins any longer, he was overthrown and trampled under Foot by the Horses. A Soldier of Cyprus cut off his Head, and holding it up by the Hair, showed it in Triumph to the victorious Army. I shall ever remember, that I saw the Head smeared with Blood; the Eyes shut and extinguished; the Face pale and disfigured; the Mouth half open, and attempting to finish some Words it had begun, a fierce and menacing Air, which Death itself could not efface. This sight will be always before my Eyes to the last day of my Life. And if ever the Gods permit me to Reign, I Shall never forget, after this fatal Example, 
That no King is worthy to Command, or can be happy in the Possession of his Power, unless he himself be governed by Reason; and that 'tis the utmost of all Misfortunes for a Man, who is created for the Public Good, to govern vast Numbers of Men only to render himself miserable.   
Calypso heard with Astonishment these wise Reflections: And that which charmed her the most, was, to see how the young Telemachus ingeniously related the Faults he had committed, either through Precipitation, or want of Docility for the sage Mentor. She was surprised with the greatness and generosity of his Mind; who accused himself, and made so good use of his own Imprudences, to become Wise, Sagacious and Moderate. Continue, said she, my dear Telemachus; I long to know how you left Egypt, and where you found the wise Mentor, whose Loss was so sensible to you.  
Telemachus resuming his Discourse, said; The best of the Egyptians, who were most faithful to the King, finding themselves overpowered, and the King dead, were compelled to submit to the rest; and another King called **** was established. The Phoenicians and the Troops of Cyprus departed from Egypt, after they had made an Alliance with the new King. All the Phoenicians that were Prisoners, were set at Liberty, and I was accounted one of them. I departed from the Court; I embarked with the rest, and my Hopes began to revive in the bottom of my Heart. Already a favourable Wind filled our Sails; our Oars cut the foaming Waves; the vast Sea was covered with our Ships; the Mariners shouted for Joy; the Shores of Egypt 〈◊〉 from us; the Hills and Mountains diminished; we began to see nothing but the Heavens and the Waters, whilst the Sun surrounded with sparkling Flames, seemed to rise from the bosom of the Sea; his Rays guilded the tops the Mountains, which we could still discover upon the Horizon, and the whole face of Heaven painted with a sable Azure, gave us Hopes of a happy Navigation.  
Tho' I had been set at Liberty, as one of the Phoenicians; yet none of them knew who I was. Narbal, who commanded the Ship that carried me, asked me my Name and my Country. Of what City, said he, in Phenicia are you? I am not a Phenician, said I; but the Egyptians took me at Sea in a Phenician Ship. I have been a long time Prisoner in Egypt as a Phenician; under that Name I have suffered, and under that Name I am delivered. Of what Country art thou then, said Narbal? I am, said I, Telemachus, Son to Ulysses King of Ithaca in Greece. My Father made himself famous among the Kings, who besieged the City of Troy; but the Gods have not permitted him to return to his Country. I have sought him in many Climates, and Fortune Persecutes me also. You see an unfortunate Person, who desires no other Happiness than to return to his Country, and to find his Father. Narbal looked upon me with Astonishment, and thought he saw in my Face some Marks of Happiness, that proceed from the favour of Heaven, and are not in the rest of Men. He was by Nature sincere and generous. He was moved with my Misfortunes; and put a confidence in me, that the Gods inspired him with, for my Preservation.  
Telemachus, said he, I doubt not the Truth of what you say, neither can I doubt: The lively Images of Grief and Virtue drawn upon your Face, will not give me leave to distrust you. I perceive that the Gods which I have always served, love you, and will have me to love you, as if you were my Son. I will give you safe and useful Advice, and for my Recompense desire nothing of you but Silence. Fear not, said I, for I can without difficulty keep any thing secret that you shall trust to my Discretion. Tho' I am young; yet I have grown up in the Habit of not discovering my own Secret, and much more of not betraying under any pretext the Secret of another. How have you been able, said he, to accustom yourself to keep Secrets in such tender years. I shall be glad to know, by what means you have acquired this admirable Quality, which is the Foundation of the wisest Conduct, and without which all other Talents are Useless.  
When Ulysses, said I, departed to assist in the Siege of Troy, he took me upon his Knees and embraced me (for thus I have been told the Story) and after he had kissed me in the tenderest manner, he said these Words to me, tho' I could not then understand them. 
O my Son! may the Gods prevent me from ever seeing thee again; let rather the fatal Scissors cut the Thread of thy early Days, as the Reaper cuts down with his Sickle the tender Flower that begins to blow; let my Enemies dash thee in pieces before the Eyes of thy Mother and Me, if ever thou art to be Corrupted, and to relinquish the Ways of Virtue. O! my Friends, continued he, I leave my dear Son with you; take care of his tender years; if you love me, banish all Pernicious Flattery from about him; instruct him how to overcome his Passions, and let him be like a tender Plant, that Men often bend in order to make it grow upright. Above all, forget not to render him Just, Benificent, Sincere, and faithful in keeping a Secret. Whoever is guilty of a Lie, is unworthy to be accounted a Man; and whoever knows not how to be Silent, is unworthy to govern.   
I am exact in the Repetition of these Words; because care was taken to inculcate them often into me. My Father's Friends made it their Business to exercise me early in keeping Secrets. I was yet in my Infancy, when they trusted me with all the Troubles they sustained, to see my Mother exposed to the Persecutions of so many that pretended to marry her. Already they treated me as a Man of Reason and Fidelity. They entertained me privately of the most important Affairs, and acquainted me with all the measures they took to expel the Pretenders.  
I was overjoyed to be trusted in this manner; I never abused the confidence reposed in me; I never let fall one single Word, that might discover the least Secret. The Pretenders often endeavoured to make me talk, expecting that a Child, who had seen or heard any thing of Importance, would not have been able to conceal it. But I knew how to answer them without lying, and without informing them of any thing that I ought not to discover.  
Upon this, Narbal said to me; You see, Telemachus, the Power of the Phoenicians. They are formidable to all their Neighbours by their numerous Fleets. The Trade they drive as far as the Columns of Hercules, furnishes them with Riches surpassing all those of the most flourishing Nations. The great Sesostris, who could never have subdued them by Sea, did with great difficulty defeat them by Land with those Armies that had conquered all the East, and imposed a Tribute upon us, which has not continued long.  
The Phoenicians found themselves too Rich and too Potent, to wear the Yoke of Servitude with Patience. Sesostris was prevented by Death from finishing the War against us. 'Tis true, we had reason to fear the Event, and that much more on account of his wisdom than his Power. But as soon as his Power, without his Wisdom, had passed into the Hands of his Son, we concluded we had no more to fear.  
In effect, the Egyptians have been so far from returning in Arms to make an entire Conquest of our Country, that they have been constrained to call us to their Assistance to deliver them from the Fury of an impious and outrageous King. We have been their Deliverers, and have added the glory of this Action to the Liberty and Riches of our Country. But whilst we deliver others, we ourselves are Slaves. O Telemachus, beware of falling into the cruel Hands of Pygmalion our King. He has already died them in the Blood of Sichaeus, his Sister Dido's Husband. Dido, full of Horror and Revenge, is fled from Tyre with many Ships. Most of those who are best affected to Liberty and Virtue have attended her. She has founded a Magnificent City upon the Coast of afric, and called it Carthage. Pygmalion, tormented with and insatiable Thirst of Wealth, renders himself every day more wretched, and odious to all his Subjects. 'Tis a Crime at Tyre to be Rich. His Avarice fills him with Suspicion, Distrust and Cruelty. He persecutes the Wealthy, and fears the Poor. Every thing disturbs him, affrights him, preys upon him. He trembles at his own Shadow; he sleeps neither by Night nor by Day. The Gods, to confound him, load him with Treasures which he dares not enjoy. The things he covets to make him happy, are precisely those that make him miserable. He regrets whatever he gives; dreads to lose, and torments himself with Hopes of Gain. He is seldom seen. He shuts himself up in the remotest parts of his Palace, sad, alone, disconsolate. His Friends dare not approach him, for fear of being suspected. A Guard, terrible to see, stands round his House, with Swords drawn, and erected Pikes. Thirty Chambers on a Floar, with Doors of Iron, and six massy Bolts upon each, make up the dreadful Apartment, where he hides himself. No one ever knows in which of these Chambers he lies. 'Tis said, he never lies in any of them two Nights together, for fear his Throat should be cut.  
He knows no sweet Enjoyments, nor the sweeter Effects of Friendship. If any one speak to him of Joy, he finds it will not come near him, and refuses to enter into his Heart. His hollow Eyes are full of a fierce and savage Fire, incessantly rolling on every side. He is moved at the least Noise; he hearkens attentively; becomes pale and dejected; and anxious Care sits pictured upon his wrinkled Face. He sighs; is silent, and groans from the bottom of his Heart. He is unable to conceal the Remorse that rends his Soul. He relishes not the most delicious Food. His Children, instead of being the Hopes of his Age, are the Subjects of his Fear. He looks upon them as his most dangerous Enemies. He never thought himself secure one Moment of his Life. He preserves himself only by shedding the Blood of every one he fears.  
Foolish Man! who sees not, that his Cruelty which he so much relies upon, will be his Destruction. Some Domestic Servant, as suspicious as he, will soon deliver the World from this Monster.  
As for me, I fear the Gods, and will be faithful to the King they have given me, whatever it cost. I had rather die, than take away his Life, or fail to defend him. For your part, O Telemachus, acquaint him not that you are the Son of Ulysses; for he would make you a Prisoner, in expectation of a great Ransom, when Ulysses returns to Ithaca.  
When we arrived at Tyre, I followed his Counsel, and found every thing he had said to be true. I could not comprehend how a Man could make himself so miserable as Pygmalion appeared to be. Surprised with a thing so astonishing, and so new to me, I said thus to myself. This Man designed to be happy, and persuaded himself, that Riches and Arbitrary Power would make him so. He does what he will, and yet is made miserable even by that Power and those Riches. If he were a Shepherd as I lately was, he would be as happy as I have been: He would enjoy the innocent Pleasures of the Country, and would enjoy them without Remorse. He would not fear either Dagger or Poison. He would love Men, and be beloved by them. He would not indeed be Possessor of those vast Treasures, which are as useless to him as Sand, since he dares not touch them; but he would really enjoy the Fruits of the Earth, and suffer no manner of want.  
This Man seems to do whatever pleases him; but the Case is far otherwise, for he does all that his Passions command. He is compelled to follow, wheresoever his Covetousness and Suspicions lead. He seems to be Master of all other Men; but he is not Master of himself, and has as many Masters and Torments as he has violent Desires.  
Thus I reasoned concerning Pygmalion without seeing him; for he was not to be seen. Men only see those lofty Towers, that are surrounded Night and Day with dreadful Guards, where he shuts himself up as it were in Prison with his beloved Treasures. I compared this invisible King with Sesostris, who was so good, so easy of Access, so Affable, so ready to hear any Stranger, so attentive in giving Audience to all Men, and to find out the Truth which is always concealed from Kings. The good Sesostris, said I, feared nothing, and had nothing to fear. He showed himself to all his Subjects as to his own Children. This Man fears all, and has all to fear. This wicked King is always exposed to the danger of a violent Death, even within his inaccessible Palace, and in the midst of his Guards. On the contrary, the good King Sesostris was always safe in the midst of the greatest Numbers of his People, as a gentle Father in his own House with all his Family about him.  
Pygmalion gave orders to send home the Forces of Cyprus, who came to his Assistance by virtue of an Alliance that was between the two Nations. Narbal took this Occasion to set me at Liberty. He caused me to be mustered among the Cyprian Soldiers; for the King was jealous to the last degree. The usual defect of easy and thoughtless Princes is, to deliver themselves up to the Conduct of crafty and corrupt Ministers. On the other side, the defect of this Man was to distrust the most Virtuous. He knew not how to distinguish Men of Probity and Uprightness, who always act without Disguise. He had never seen an honest Man; for such will never flatter a corrupted King.  
Besides, he had found in all those who had served him since his Accession to the Crown, so much Dissimulation and Perfidiousness, with so many horrid Vices disguised, and only the bare Appearances of Virtue, that he looked upon all Men without Exception, as living under a Mask, and concluded there was no real Virtue in the World.  
But to return to myself: I passed in the Muster for a Cyprian, and escaped the watchful Jealousy of the King. Narbal trembled for fear I should be discovered, which would have cost his Life and mine also. He was under great impatience to see us embarked; but contrary Winds detained us at Tyre.  
I made use of this time to inform myself of the Manners of the Phoenicians, so famous in all parts of of the known World. I admired the happy Situation of their City, which is built upon an Island of the Sea. The Neighbouring Coast is delicious and fruitful, abounding in exquisite Fruits, and so covered with Towns and Villages, that they seem to touch one another. The Air is sweet and temperate; for the Mountains shelter that Coast from the scorching Winds which come from the South. The Country is every where refreshed by the North Wind that blows from the Sea. It lies at the foot of Mount Libanus, which pierces through the Clouds, and advances to meet the Stars. His Forehead is covered with an eternal Ice; and Rivers mingled with Snow, fall down like Torrents from the Rocks that surround his Head.  
A vast Forest of ancient Cedars stands near the top, which appear as old as the Earth on which they grow, and shoot their spreading Branches to the Clouds. Under this Forest are rich Pastures, leaning on the descent of the Mountain. Here one may see the bellowing Bulls wandering up and down, and the bleating Yews with their tender Lambs bounding upon the Grass. A thousand Streams of the Clearest Water runs down these charming Fields.  
Below these Pastures is the foot of the Mountain, which appears like a Garden on every side. Here Spring and Autumn reign together, and join the Fruits of the one to the Flowers of the other. Neither the infected Breath of the South Wind, that parches and burns up all, or the cruel Blasts of the North-East, have ever dared to deface the lively Colours that adorn this Garden. Hard by this beautiful Coast, an Island rises in the Sea, where the City of Tyre is built. This great City seems to float upon the Waters, and to be Queen of all the Sea. The Merchants arrive from all parts of the World; and it's own Inhabitants are the most famous Merchants of the Universe.  
When Men enter into this City, they cannot think it to be a Place belonging to a particular People, but rather to be a City common to all Nations, and the Centre of all Trade. Two great Mole's advancing their Arms into the Sea, embrace a vast Port where the Winds cannot enter. In this Harbour one may see, as it were a Forest of Masts; and the Ships are so numerous that the Sea which carries them can hardly be discovered  
All the Citizens apply themselves to Commerce, and their vast Riches never divert them from that Labour which is necessary to increase their Treasure. In every part of the City one may see the fine Linen of Egypt, and Tyrian Purple, twice died, and of a noble Lustre. This double Tincture is so lively, as not to be defaced by Time. 'Tis used upon the finest Cloth, which is to be garnished with Gold and Silver. The Phoenicians maintain a Trade with all People as far as the Straits of Gades. Nay, they have penetrated into the vast Ocean that encompasses the Earth. They have made long Voyages upon the Red Sea, and visited unknown Islands, from whence they bring Gold, and all sorts of Perfumes, with various Animals no where else to be seen.  
I could not satiate my Eyes with the sight of this great City, where every thing was in Motion. I did not see, as in the Islands of Greece, idle and inquisitive Persons, going about to hear News in the public Places, and to gaze upon Strangers as they arrive in the Ports. The Men are employed in unloading their Ships; sending home their Goods; putting their Magazines in order; selling their Merchandise, and keeping an exact Account of what is due to them from Foreigners. The Women are always busy in spinning of Wool, in folding up the richest Stuffs, and in various Works of Embroidery.  
Whence comes it, said I to Narbal, that the Phoenicians are Masters of the Trade in all parts of the World, and enrich themselves at the expense of all other Nations? You see, said he, the situation of Tyre, how conveniently it lies for Navigation. The Tyrians were the first (if we may believe what is told us concerning obscure Antiquity) who in a feeble Ship durst commit themselves to the mercy of the Waves; who subdued the Pride of the Sea; who observed the Stars, that are so far from the Earth, according to the Knowledge they had learned from the Egyptians and Babylonians, and who by these means reunited so many People, that the Sea seemed to have separated for ever. The Tyrians are Industrious, Patient, Laborious, Sober and Frugal; exact in their Civil Government, and united among themselves. No Nation has ever been more constant, more sincere, more faithful, more honest, and more kind to Strangers. These, these are the Things that have given them the Empire of the Sea, and all the Advantages of Trade. If they should fall into Divisions and Jealousies; if they should emasculate themselves with Pleasures and Idleness; if the principal Citizens should come to despise Labour and Frugality; if Arts should cease to be accounted Honourable; if they should violate their Faith with Strangers, and transgress, tho' but a little, the rules of free Trade, you would soon see the ruin of that Power you admire.  
But pray, said I, instruct me how I may hereafter establish the like Commerce in Ithaca. Do, said he, as you see done here: Receive all Strangers kindly; let them find safety in your Ports, with Conveniency, and entire Liberty. Suffer not yourself to be possessed with Covetousness or Pride. The true way to gain much, is never to desire to gain too much, and to know how and when to lose: Acquire the love of all Strangers, and suffer small Wrongs from them. Beware of exciting their Suspicions by insolent Behaviour. Be constant to the rules of Trade: Let them be plain and easy: Accustom yourself to observe them inviolably: Punish Fraud with Severity: Correct the Negligence and Pride of Merchants, who ruin Trade by ruining themselves, that carry it on: Above all, never go about to restrain Trade, or govern it by your own Fancy. The Prince must not intermeddle with it, for fear of discouraging his People, who as they have the Pains, aught to have the Profit. He will find sufficient Advantages by the vast Riches that will be brought into his Kingdom. Commerce is like certain Springs; if you force them to alter their Course, you dry them up.  
'Tis only Profit and Conveniency that invites Strangers. If you render their Trade uneasy and of little Benefit, they insensibly withdraw themselves and return no more; because other Nations taking advantage of your Imprudence, invite 'em thither, and accustom them to live without you. I must own that for some time past the Glory of Tyre has been sadly diminished. O! if you had seen it, my dear Telemachus, before the Reign of Pygmalion, you would have been much more surprised. You find only the dismal remains of a Grandeur that threatens Ruin.  
Ounhappy Tyre! into what Hands art thou fallen? The Sea formerly brought thee the Tribute of all the Nations in the World. Pygmalion is afraid of all, both Strangers and Subjects. Instead of opening his Ports with an entire liberty to all People however remote, he requires constantly to be informed, what number of Ships arrive, and from what Country; the Names of the Men on board, the Trade they drive, the nature and price of their Merchandise, and the time they design to stay. He does yet worse; for he uses all manner of Artifices to surprise the Merchants, and to confiscate their Goods: He contrives to ensnare the most wealthy under various pretences. He burdens the Trade with innumerable Imposts: He will be a Merchant himself, and all Men are afraid to deal with him.  
Thus our Commerce languishes: Foreigners by degrees forget the way to Tyre, which was once so agreeable to them; and if Pygmalion will not alter his Conduct, our Glory and our Power must in a short time be transported to some other People, who are better governed, than we are.  
I then demanded of Narbal, by what means the Tyrians had rendered themselves so powerful at Sea: For I was not willing to be Ignorant of any thing that might contribute to the good Government of a Kingdom. We have, said he, the Forests of Libanus, which furnish us with Timber for the building of Ships, and we preserve them with Care for that use. They are never cut but for the public Service. We have numbers of skilful Workmen, who perfectly understand the Architecture of a Ship. How came you, said I, to find these excellent Artists. 
They grew up, said he, by degrees in the Country. When those who excel in Arts are liberally rewarded, Men will quickly be found, who shall carry them to the utmost perfection. For Men of the best Talents and Understanding, never fail to apply themselves to those Arts that are attended with the greatest Recompenses.   
In this City we honour all such Persons as succeed in any of those Arts and Sciences which are useful to Navigation. We respect a Man that understands Geometry; we esteem an able Astronomer, and bountifully reward a Pilot who surpasses the rest of his Profession. We despise not a good Carpenter: On the contrary, he is well paid, and well used. Men dextorous at the Oar, are sure of a Reward proportioned to their Service. They are fed with wholesome Provisions; they are carefully attended when they are Sick; care is taken of their Wives and Children in their absence; if they perish by Shipwreck, their Family is indemnified; every Man is sent home to his Habitation after he has served a cortain Time.  
By these means the Tyrians have as many Seamen as they will. Fathers are glad, to bring up their Children in so good an Employment, and hasten to teach them in their tender Years to handle an Oar, manage the Tacle, and scorn a Storm.  
These Rewards and this good Order leads Men to be useful to the Public without compulsion: 
Authority never does well alone; the submission of Inferiors is not enough; their Hearts must be won, and they ought to find their own Account in serving the State.   
After this Discourse Narbal conducted me to see all the Magazines; the Arsenal, and the several Trades that serve for the building and equipping of Ships. I enquired into all particulars, even to the minutest Things, and wrote down all that I had learned, for fear of forgetting any useful Circumstance.  
In the mean time Narbal, who knew Pygmalion as well as he loved me, was impatient for my departure, fearing I might be discovered by the King's Spies, who were about the Town Day and Night; but the Winds would not yet permit us to embark. One Day as we stood viewing the Port, an Officer of Pygmalion came up to us, and said to Narbal, The King is just now informed by a Captain of one of those Ships which returned with you from Egypt, that you have brought a certain Stranger who passes for a Cyprian. 'Tis the King's Pleasure to have him seized and examined, that he may know who he is. And for this You are to answer with your Head.  
In that Moment I was at some distance from Narbal, in order to take a nearer view of the Proportions which the Tyrians had observed in building a Ship, that was then almost new, and accounted by reason of this exact Proportion of all its Parts, the best Sailor that had ever been seen in the Harbour. I asked the Builder, who he was that had formed the design of that Ship.  
Narbal surprised and terrified with this Message, answered; I myself am now looking for this Stranger, who is of Cyprus. As soon as the Officer was gone out of his sight, he run to me, and informed me of the Danger I was in. I too well foresaw, said he, what would happen; my dear Telemachus, we are lost; the King tormented Night and Day with his Fears, suspects you not to be a Cyprian. He will have you seized, and will take away my Life, if I do not put you into his Hands: What shall we do? O God Give us Wisdom, to deliver ourselves from this Danger. I'll bring you to the King's Palace, where you shall affirm that you are a Cyprian of the City of Amathus, and Son to a Statuary of Venus. I will declare that I formerly knew your Father; and perhaps the King may let you depart without farther Examination. I see no other way to save your Life and mine. I answered, O Narbal, suffer me to perish since Fate has decreed my Destruction. I know how to die, and am too much indebted to you, to draw you into my Misfortune. I cannot persuade myself to speak a Lie; I am not a Cyprian; I cannot say that I am. The Gods see my Sincerity; It belongs to them to preserve my Life by their Power. But I will not save it by a Falsehood.  
Narbal answered me, This Falsehood, O Telemachus, is in all respects Innocent. It cannot be disapproved by the Gods; it does no injury to any one; It saves the Lives of two innocent Persons, and deceives the King, only to prevent him from committing a great Crime. You carry the love of Virtue too far, and are too nice an observer of Truth.  
But said I, Falsehood is Falshood still; and on that account unworthy of a Man, who speaks in the Presence of the Gods, and owes the highest reverence to Truth. He that offends the Truth, offends the Gods, and injures himself, because he speaks against his Conscience. Propose no more, O Narbal, that which is unworthy of us both. If the Gods have any pity for us, they know how to deliver us. But if they suffer us to perish, we shall fall the Victims of Truth, and leave an Example to instruct Men to prefer unblemished Virtue before long Life. My own is already too long, and too unhappy. 'Tis you alone, my dear Narbal, that grieve my Heart: Was it necessary that your Kindness to an unfortunate Stranger should prove so fatal to you?  
We continued long in this kind of Dispute; till at last we saw a Man quite out of Breath running towards us. He was one of the King's Officers, and sent to Narbal by Astarb'e. This Woman was beautiful as a Goddess: The Charms of her Face were attended by the finest Wit. She was Gay, Insinuating, Flattering; and under the appearance of Gentleness, she covered a Heart filled with Malice and Cruelty. Yet she knew how to conceal her Designs with the profoundest Art. She had conquered the Heart of Pygmalion by her Wit and Beauty, and by the Charms of her Voice and Lute: And Pygmalion blind with Love, had abandoned Tapha, his legitimate Wife.  
He thought of nothing so much, as how to content the Passions of the ambitious Astarbe. The love of this Woman was little less pernicious to him than his infamous Covetousness. But tho' he had so great a Passion for Her, she despised and loathed him in her Heart; yet understood so well how to cover her private Sentiments, that she seemed to live only for him.  
At the same time that she had these Thoughts of Pygmalion, there was in Tyre a young Lydian, called Malachon, of admirable Beauty, but Voluptuous, Effeminate and drowned in Pleasures. His chief Business was to preserve the delicacy of his Complexion; to comb his Hair that fell down in Curls upon his Shoulders; to Perfume; to Dress nicely; to sing amorous Songs, and play upon the Lute. She loved him, and became furiously transported with her Passion. He despised her, because he was in Love with another Woman: And besides, he dreaded to expose himself to the cruel jealousy of the King. Astarbe finding she was scorned, abandoned herself to Resentment. In her Despair she imagined it possible to make Malachon pass for the Stranger that the King had demanded of Narbal. In effect she soon persuaded Pygmalion as she desired, and corrupted all those who were able to undeceive him. For having no Affection for virtuous Men, whom he neither knew nor valued, he was always surrounded by such only as were full of Artifice, addicted to their Interest, and ready to execute his unjust and bloody Orders. These Men feared the Authority of Astarbe, and helped her to deceive the King, that they might not offend this haughty Woman, who entirely possessed his Confidence.  
Thus the young Malachon, tho' known by all the City to be of Crete, passed for the young Stranger that Narbal had brought from Egypt. He was seized, and sent away to Prison. Astarbe, who feared Narbal might go to the King, and discover her Imposture, had dispatched this Officer in haste, and commanded him to say these Words: Astarbe forbids you to discover your Stranger to the King; she requires nothing of you but Silence, and promises to satisfy him concerning you. In the mean time take care that the young Stranger, who came with you from Egypt, may embark among the Cyprians with all expedition, and be no longer seen in the City. Narbal overjoyed to save his own Life and mine, promised to be silent; and the Officer pleased that he had obtained what he demanded, immediately returned to Astarbé with an account of his Commission.  
Narbal and I admired the goodness of the Gods, who had rewarded our Sincerity, and taken such care of those who had hazarded all for the sake of Virtue. We reflected with Horror upon a King given up to Voluptuousness and Avarice. He deserves to be deceived, said we, who dreads it so excessively: And he is so most frequently and grossly; for he trusts not Men of Honesty, but abandons himself to Villains. He is the only Person who knows nothing of what is doing.  
See how Pygmalion is made the scorn of an immodest Woman; whilst the Gods make use of wicked Men to save the Good, who choose to part with Life rather than deceive. As we were making these Reflections, we perceived the Wind to turn, and become favourable to the Cyprian Fleet.  
The Gods declare themselves, said Narbal; they resolve to take care of your safety, my dear Telemachus. Fly from this unfortunate, accursed Land. Happy he, that could follow you to the remotest parts of the Earth! Happy, who might live and die with you! But my cruel Fate ties me to my unhappy Country. I must suffer with her, and perhaps be buried in her Ruins. No matter, provided I may always speak the Truth, and my Heart love nothing but Justice. As for you, O my dear Telemachus, I pray the Gods, who lead you as it were by the Hand, to grant you the most precious of all their Gifts, a pure and unblemished Virtue to the last Moment of your Life. Live; return to Ithaca; comfort Penelope; deliver her from the Persecutions of her Lovers. May your Eyes see, and your Arms embrace the wise Ulysses; and may he find in you a Son equal to him in Wisdom. But in the midst of your Felicity remember the unhappy Narbal, and continue always to love me.  
When he finished these Words, my Tears run down so fast, that I was not able to answer him: My Sighs, which I drew from the bottom of my Heart, would not suffer me to speak: We embraced in Silence: He brought me to the Ship. He stayed upon the Shoar; and when the Vessel put off, we continued to look upon each other as long as we could.  
Calypso, who all this while had harkened with the utmost Attention and Pleasure to the Adventures of Telemachus, interrupted the pursuit of his Narration, that she might persuade him to take some Rest. 'Tis time, said she, after so many Toils to taste the sweetness of Sleep: In this place you have nothing to fear: All that's here is favourable to you: Abandon your Heart to Joy and Tranquillity, and receive the Favours of the Gods. To Morrow, when Aurora has opened the golden Gates of the East with her rosy Fingers, and the Horses of the Sun springing from the briny Main, spread the Flames of Light, and drive away the Stars before 'em, we will resume the History of your Misfortunes, my dear Telemachus. No, your Father never equalled you in Wisdom and Courage. Achilles, who conquered Hector; Theseus, who returned from Hell; the great Alcides himself, who delivered the World from Monsters, never showed so much Constancy and Virtue. May the softest and profoundest Sleep make the Night seem short to you. But alas! how tedious will it be to me? How I shall long to see you again? To hear your Voice; to make you to repeat what I know already, and to ask you what I know not? Go my dear Telemachus, with the wise Mentor, whom the Favour of the Gods has restored to you; go into the Grotto, where every thing is prepared for your Repose: May Morpheus shed the sweetest of his Charms upon your falling Eyelids; May he infuse a divine Vapour through all your wearied Limbs, and send you easy Dreams, which hover about you may flatter your Senses with the most delightful Images, and chase away whatever might disturb your Rest, or awaken you too soon.  
The Goddess brought Telemachus to the Grotto, which was separated from her own, but not less agreeable, nor less rustic. A Fountain of liquid Crystal ran down in one corner, and sweetly murmuring seemed contrived to invite Sleep. The Nymphs had prepared two Beds composed of the softest Greene's, and had covered them with two large Skins, the one of a Lion for Telemachus, the other of a Bear for Mentor.  
Before Slumber had closed their Eyes, Mentor spoke thus to Telemachus. The pleasure of relating your Adventures has carried you too far; you have charmed the Goddess with the History of those Dangers, from which your Courage and Industry have delivered you. By this means you have added to the Flames of her Heart, and are preparing for yourself a most dangerous Captivity. How can you hope she should suffer you to depart from her Island; you, who have charmed her with the relation of your Story? Affectation of vain Glory has induced you to talk without Prudence. When will you be wife enough, O Telemachus, never to speak with Vanity; and when will you know how to conceal what may commend you, if it be not fit to be said? Others admire your Wisdom at such Years as may want it without blame. But for me, I can forgive you nothing; I alone know, and love you enough to tell you of all your Faults, How far do you yet come short of your Father's wisdom? But, said Telemachus, could I refuse to relate my Misfortunes to Calypso? No, replied Mentor, 'twas absolutely necessary: But you ought so to have related them, as might only excite her Compassion. You should have told her that you had been sometimes wand'ring in Deserts, than a Prisoner in Sicily, and afterwards in Egypt. This had been enough; and all the rest has only served to augment the Poison, that has already seized her Heart. May the Gods grant, that yours may be untouched. But what shall I now do, said Telemachus, in a modest and teachable accent? 'Tis now in vain, replied Mentor, to conceal the rest of your Adventures; she knows enough to secure her from being deceived in that which is to come; any reserve on your part would only serve to provoke her. Finish therefore your Relation to Morrow; tell her all that the Gods have done for you; and learn for the future to speak with Moderation of all Things that may tend to your own Praise. Telemachus kindly received this good Advice, and both lay down to Sleep.  
As soon as Phoebus had shed the first Rays of his Glory upon the Earth, Mentor hearing the Voice of the Goddess who called to her Nymphs in the Wood, awakened Telemachus. 'Tis time, said he, to shake off Sleep. Come, let us return to Calypso; but beware of the Charms of her Tongue: Never open your Heart to her; dread the insinuating Poison of her Praises. Yesterday she exalted you above your wise Father, above the invincible Achilles, or the renowned Theseus, or Hercules himself, who has obtained Immortality by his glorious Actions. Could you not perceive the Excess of this Commendation? Or did you not observe what she said? Know, that she believes it not herself. She only commends you, because she thinks you weak and vain enough to be deceived with Praises far exceeding your Actions.  
After this Discourse, they went to the place where the Goddess expected them. She smiled when she saw them approaching, and under an appearance of Joy, concealed the Fears and Suspicions that disturbed her Heart. For she foresaw that Telemachus, under the Conduct of Mentor, would escape her Hands, as Ulysses had done. Go on, said she, my dear Telemachus, and satisfy my Curiosity. I thought all the Night, I saw you departing from Phenicia, and going to seek a new Destiny in the Island of Cyprus. Tell me then the success of this Voyage, and let us not lose one moment. They sat down in a shady Grove, upon the green Turf intermixed with Violets. Calypso could not refrain from looking upon Telemachus with Tenderness and Passion; nor see without Indignation, that Mentor observed her, even to the least motion of her Eyes.  
In the mean time the Nymphs stood silent, forming a half-circle, and leaning somewhat forward, that they might both hear and see with more advantage. The Eyes of all the Assembly were unmovably fixed upon the young Man. Telemachus looking down, and gracefully blushing, thus resumed the Thread of his Discourse.  
Scarce had the Breath of a savorable Wind filled our Sails, when the Coast of Phenicia entirely disappeared from us. And because I was with the Cyprians, whose Manners I knew not, I resolved to be silent, and to observe all, keeping myself within the strictest Rules of Discretion, that I might acquire their Esteem.  
During my silence, a soft and powerful slumber seized upon me; my Senses were ravished and suspended; my Heart was quiet and full of joy. On a sudden I thought I saw Venus launching down from the Clouds in a Chariot, guided by a pair of Doves. She had the same shining Beauty, the same lively Youth, and those blooming Graces that appeared in her, when she arose from the Foam of the Ocean, and dazzled the Eyes of Jupiter himself. She descended with extreme Rapidity, placed herself by me, laid her Hand upon my Shoulder, called me by my Name, and smiling pronounced these Words.  
Young Greek, thou art going into my peculiar Empire; Thou shalt soon arrive in that fortunate Island, where Pleasures, Sports and wanton Joys abound. There thou shalt burn Perfumes upon my Altar. There I will plunge thee into a River of Delights: Open thy Heart to the most charming Hopes, and beware of resisting the most powerful of all the Goddesses, who resolves to make thee happy.  
At the same time I saw Cupid as a Child, gently moving his little Wings, and hover about his Mother. He had the tenderest Graces in his Face, and the Smiles of an Infant; yet there was something so fierce in his Eyes, as to make me afraid. He smiled when he looked upon me; but his Smiles were malicious, scornful and cruel. He took the sharpest of his Arrows from his golden Quiver; He drew his Bow, and was going to pierce my Heart, when Minerva appeared, and covered me with her immortal Shield.  
The Face of this Goddess had not the same effeminate Beauty, nor that passionate Languishing, which I had observed in the Face and Posture of Venus. On the contrary, her Beauty was natural, unaffected, modest; all was Grave, Vigorous, Noble, full of Power and Majesty. The Arrow too weak to pierce the Shield fell down upon the Ground; Cupid, in a rage, sighed bitterly, and was ashamed to see himself overcome. Be gone, cried Minerva, rash Boy, be gone; Thou canst Conquer none but the Base, who prefer dishonourable Pleasures before Wisdom, Virtue and Glory.  
At these Words, Cupid, fired with Indignation, flew away; and as Venus' re-ascended towards Olympus, I saw her Chariot and Doves, rolling in a Cloud of Gold and Azure a long time before she disappeared. When I turned my Eyes towards the Earth, I could no where see Minerva. Methought I was transported into a delicious Garden, as Men paint the Elysian Fields. There I found Mentor, who said to me; Fly from this cruel Country, this pernicious Island, where the Inhabitants breathe nothing but Pleasure. The boldest Virtue ought to tremble, and cannot be safe but by Flight. As soon as I saw him, I endeavoured to throw my Arms about his Neck and to embrace him; but I found my Feet unable to move; my Knees sunk under me, and my Hands attempting to lay hold upon Mentor, followed an empty Phantom that would not be touched.  
As I was making this Effort I waked, and perceived that this mysterious Dream was no less than a Divine Admonition. I found in myself a firm Resolution against the Allurements of Pleasure; a watchful Jealousy of my own Conduct, and a just abhorrence of the dissolute Manners that reigned in Cyprus. But that which wounded me to the Heart, was, that I thought Mentor dead; that he had passed the Stygian Lake, and was become an Inhabitant of those fortunate Fields, where the Souls of the Just reside. This Thought made me shed a Torrent of Tears. The Cyprians asked me why I wept. These Tears, said I, are but too suitable to the Condition of an unhappy Stranger, who has lost all Hopes of ever seeing his Country more.  
In the mean time all the Cyprians that were in the Ship abandoned themselves to the most extravagant Follies; the Rowers who hated to take Pains, fell asleep upon their Oars. The Pilot put a Garland of Flowers on his Head; left the Rudder, and held a vast Flagon of Wine in his Hands, which he had almost emptied. He, and all the rest of the Crew, inflamed with the Furies of Bacchus, sung such Verses in the honour of Venus and Cupid, as aught to be abhorred by all those who love Virtue.  
Whilst they thus forgot the Dangers of the Sea, a sudden Tempest arose: The Elements seemed to mix; The Winds were let loose, and roared in every Sail: The Waves beat furiously upon the Flanks of the Ship, which groaned under the Weight of their Strokes. One while we mounted upon the Back of the swelling Waters; another while the Sea seemed to steal from under the Vessel, and to precipitate us into the dark Abyss. We saw the Rocks close by our side, and the angry Waves breaking upon them with a dreadful Noise. Then I found by experience the Truth of what I had heard from Mentor, That Men of dissolute Lives, and abandoned to Pleasure, always want Courage in time of Danger. All our Cyprians sunk into despair, and wept like Women. I heard nothing but lamentable Exclamations; bitter Regrets upon the Pleasures of Life; vain and insignificant Promises of Sacrificing abundantly to the Gods, if they should arrive safe in the Harbour. No one had sufficient persence of Mind, either to give necessary Orders, or to work the Ship. In this Condition, I thought myself obliged to save my own Life, and the Lives of those that were with me. I took the Rudder into my Hand, because the raving Pilot was utterly uncapable of knowing the Danger we were in. I encouraged the astonished Mariners; I made them take down the Sails; we sheered by the Rocks and Quicksands, and saw all the Horrors of Death staring us in the Face. At last we arrived in the Island of Cyprus.  
This Adventure seemed like a Dream to all those, who owed the Preservation of their Lives to my care. They looked upon me with Astonishment. We landed at Cyprus in the Month of April, which is consecrated to Venus. This Season, say the Cyprians, is most suitable to this Goddess, because she seems to revive the whole System of Nature, and to give Birth to Pleasures and Flowers at the same time.  
As soon as I arrived in the Island, I perceived an unusual Sweetness in the Air, rendering the Body slothful and unactive, but infusing a jovial and wanton Humour. I observed the Country, tho' naturally fruitful and delicious, to be almost every where uncultivated, through the Idleness and Negligence of the Inhabitants. I saw great numbers of Maids and Women vainly and fantastically dressed, singing the Praises of Venus, and going to devote themselves to the Service of her Temple. Beauty, Graces, Joy and Pleasure, were equally apparent in their Faces and Gesture. But their Graces were too much affected: There was not that noble Simplicity, nor that lovely Modesty, which makes the greatest Charm of Beauty. A certain Air of Dissolution; an artful way of adjusting the Face; their vain Dress and languishing Gestures; their Eyes that seemed in pain to find out the Eyes of Men; their mutual Jealousy, who should raise the greatest Passions: In a word, all that I saw in these Women appeared vile and contemptible to me. By endeavouring to please me immoderately, they excited my Aversion.  
I was conducted to a Temple of the Goddess. She had divers in this Island; for she is particularly adored at Cythera, Idalia and Paphos; 'twas to that of Cythera, I was brought. The Temple is built with Marble; 'tis a perfect Peristylium; the Pillars are lofty, and so well proportioned, that they give a majestic Air to the whole Fabric. At each Face of the Temple stands a Portal with a large Fronton, on which the most agreeable Adventures of the Goddess are curiously represented in 
* Basso rilievo  raised Stonework. Great numbers of People are always at the Gate, attending to make their Offerings. No Victim ever suffers the Knife within the Precinct of the sacred Ground. The Fat of Bulls and Heifers is not burnt here as in other Places. No Blood is ever shed. The Cattle to be offered, are only presented before the Altar; and no Beast may be offered unless it be Young, White, without defect, and without blemish. They are adorned with purple Fillets embroidered with Gold; their Horns are garnished with bunches of the most fragrant Flowers; and when they have been presented at the Altar, they are lead to a private Place without the Wall, and killed for the Table of the Priests that belong to the Goddess.  
Here also are offered all sorts of perfumed Liquors, and Wines more delicious than Nectar. The Priests are clothed in long white Robes, with Girdles of Gold and Fringes of the same. The most exquisite Perfumes of the East are burnt Night and Day upon the Altars, and form a curling Cloud as they mount into the Air. The Pillars are adorned with Festons of wreathed Flowers; all the Vessels for the Service of the Altar are of fine Gold; a sacred Wood of Myrtle encompasses the Building; none but Boys and Girls of admirable Beauty may present the Victims to the Priests, or kindle the Fire upon the Altars. But Dissolution and Impudence dishonour this magnificent Temple.  
At first I detested what I saw; but it soon began to grow familiar to me; I was no longer afraid of Vice; all Companies inspired me with an Inclination to Intemperance. They laughed at my Innocence; and my Modesty served for Sport to this dissolute People.  
They forgot nothing that might ensnare me, that might excite my Passions, and awaken in me an Appetite to Pleasure. I found myself losing Ground every day. The good Education I had received, could support me no longer; all my best Resolutions vanished away; I wanted Strength to resist the Evil that pressed me on every side; I grew even ashamed of Virtue. I was like a Man swimming in a deep and rapid River: At first he cuts the Waters and mounts vigorously against the Stream; but if the Banks are high and perpendicular, and he finds no place to rest on either side, he at last tires by degrees; his Force abandons him; his exhausted Limbs grow stiff, and the Torrent carries him down. So my Eyes began to grow dim; my Heart fainted; I could not make use of my Reason, nor call to mind the Misfortunes of my Father. The Dream that showed me Mentor in the Elysian Fields, utterly discouraged me. An easy and dissolute Languishing seized upon me; I already began to love the flattering Poison that crept into my Veins, and penetrated through the Marrow of my Bones.  
Yet for all this, sometimes I would Sighs; I shed bitter Tears; I roared like a Lion in Fury. O! unhappy Youth, said I! O Gods! that divert yourselves so cruelly with the Fate of Men! Why do you cause them to pass through that Age, which is a time of Folly, and resembles a burning Fever? O! why am I not covered with Grey Hairs, bowed down, and sinking into the Grave, like my Grandfather Laertes? Death would be more welcome to me, than the shameful Weakness I now feel.  
Scarce had I uttered these Words, when my Grief began to abate, and my Heart drunk with a foolish Passion, shook off almost all Shame. After this I found myself plunged into an Abyss of Remorse. Whilst I was under these Disorders, I went raving up and down the Sacred Wood, like a Hind that has been wounded by a Hunter; she crosses vast Forests to assuage her Pain; but the fatal Arrow sticks fast in her side, and follows her wheresoever she flies. Thus I endeavoured to run away from myself; but nothing could cure my wounded Heart.  
In this Moment, I perceived at some distance from me, under the most shady part of the Wood, the Figure of the Wise Mentor. But his Face was so pale, so sad, and so severe, that I knew not how to rejoice. Is it you then, O my dear Friend? My last, and only hope, is it you? Is it you, yourself? Or is a deceitful Image come to abuse my Eyes? Is it you, O Mentor? Or is it your Ghost, still sensible of my Misfortunes? Are you not among the Blessed Spirits, that possess the Rewards of their Virtue, and by the Bounty of the Gods enjoy an Eternal Peace, and uninterrupted Pleasures in the Elysian Plains? Mentor, do you yet live? Am I so happy to see you? Or is it only the shadow of my Friend?  
With these Words in my Mouth, I ran to him so Transported, that I lost my Respiration. He stood still unmoved, and made not one step towards me. O Gods! you know with what Joy I felt him in my Arms. No, 'tis not an empty Shadow; I hold him fast; I embrace him; my dear Mentor! Thus I cried out; I shed a flood of Tears upon his Face; I hung about his Neck, and was not able to speak.  
He looked sadly upon me, with Eyes full of tender Compassion. At last I said, alas! Where have you been? To what Dangers have you abandoned me by your absence? And what should I now do without you? But he without answering my Questions, with a terrible Voice cried out; Fly, fly without delay: This Soil produces nothing but Poison: The Air you breath is infected with the Plague: The Men are contagious, and converse with each other only to spread the fatal Venom: Base and infamous Pleasure, the worst of all those Evils that sprung from Pandora's Box, dissolves them in Luxury, and suffers no Virtue in this Place. Fly; stay not a Moment; look not once behind you, and as you run, shake off the remembrance of this Execrable Island.  
He said, and immediately I felt as it were a thick Cloud dispersing from about my Eyes, and perceived a more pure and beautiful Light. A sweet and noble Joy, accompanied with Resolution and Courage, revived in my Heart. This Joy was very different from that loose and foolish Joy which had Poisoned my Senses. The one is disorderly and unquiet, interrupted with extravagant Passions and cruel Remorse; the other is a Joy of Reason, attended with a Heaven of Happiness. 'Tis always pure, equal, inexhaustible. The deeper we drink, the more delicious is the Taste. It ravishes the Soul without the least disorder. I began to shed Tears of Joy, and found a sweetness in Weeping. Happy, said I, are those Men who can see the beauty of Virtue! Is it possible to see her without loving her? Is it possible to Love her without being Happy?  
Here Mentor interrupted me, and said, I must leave you; I must depart this Moment; I may not stay any longer. Where, said I, are you going? Into what Desert will I not follow you? Don't think you can leave me; for I will rather Die than not attend you. Whilst I spoke these Words, I held him fast with all my Strength. 'Tis in vain, said he, for you to hope to detain me. The Cruel Metophis sold me to certain Ethiopians or Arabs. These Men going to Damascus in Syria, on the account, of Trade, resolved to sell me, supposing they should get a great sum of Money for me of one Hazael, who wanted a Greek Slave to inform him of the Customs of Greece, and instruct him in our Arts and Sciences.  
This Hazael purchased me at a dear Rate. What he has learned from me concerning our Manners, has given him a Curiosity to go into the Island of Crect, to study the Wise Laws of Minos. During our Voyage, the Wether has forced us to put in at Cyprus, in expectation of a favourable Wind. He is come to make his Offerings in the Temple; see there, he is going out; the Winds call; our Sails are aloft; adieu, dear Telemachus; a Slave that fears the Gods, ought faithfully to serve his Master: The Gods do not permit me to dispose of myself: If I might, they know it, I would be only yours: Farewell, remember the Labours of Ulysses, and the Tears of Penelope; remember that the Gods are just. O Gods, the Protectors of Innocence! in what a Country am I constrained to leave Telemachus?  
No, no, said I, my dear Mentor, it shall not depend upon you to leave me here; rather Die, than see you depart without me. Is this Syrian Master inexorable? Was his Infancy nourished by a Tiger? Would he tear you out of my Arms? He must either kill me, or suffer me to follow you. You exhort me to fly, and will not permit me to fly with you: I'll go to Hazael; perhaps he will pity my Youth and my Tears. He loves Wisdom, because he goes so far in search of it; such a one cannot have a savage and insensible Heart. I will throw myself at his Feet; I will embrace his Knees; I will not let him go, till he has given me leave to follow you. My dear Mentor, I can be a Slave with you; I will offer my Service to him; if he refuses me, 'tis resolved; I will deliver myself from this burden of Life.  
In this Moment, Hazael called Mentor. I prostrated myself before him; he was surprised to see an unknown Person in this Posture. What is't you desire, said he? Life, replied I; for I cannot Live unless you suffer me to follow Mentor, who belongs to you. I am the Son of the Great Ulysses, the most Wise of all those Grecian Kings that destroyed the great City of Troy, which was so famous throughout all Asia. I speak not this to boast of my Birth, but only to inspire you with some Pity of my Misfortunes. I have sought my Father in all the Seas, accompanied by this Man, who has been to me another Father. Fortune to make me completely unhappy, has taken him away from me; she has made him your Slave; let me be so too. If it be true, that you are a lover of Justice, and that you are going to Crect to inspect the Laws of the good King Minos, reject not my Sighs and my Tears. You see the Son of a King reduced to desire Servitude as his only Refuge. Formerly I would have chosen Death in Sicily to avoid Slavery; but my first Misfortunes were only the weak Essays of Fortune's Injustice: Now I tremble, lest I should not be received among Slaves. O Gods! See my Calamity; O Hazael, remember Minos, whose Wisdom you admire, and who will judge us both in the Kingdom of Pluto.  
Hazael looking upon me with Kindness and Compassion, put forth his Hand and raised me up. I am not ignorant, said he, of the Wisdom and Virtue of Ulysses. Mentor has often told me of the Glory he has acquired among the Greeks; and besides, Fame has not been wanting to spread his Name over all the Nations of the East. Follow me, thou Son of Ulysses, I will be your Father, till you find him, who gave you Life. But tho' I were not moved with the Glory of your Father, his Misfortunes, and your own; yet the Friendship I have for Mentor, would engage me to take care of you. 'Tis true, I bought him as a Slave, but I keep him as a faithful Friend; the Money he cost, has acquired me the dearest and most valuable Friend, that I have in the World: In him I have found Wisdom; I owe all the Love I have for Virtue to his Instructions. From this Moment he is free, and you shall be so too; I ask nothing of either but your Heart.  
In an Instant, I passed from the bitterest Grief to the most lively Joy that Men can feel. I saw myself delivered from the worst of Dangers; I was drawing near to my Country; I had found One to assist me in my Return; I had the Pleasure of being with a Man, who loved me already for the sake of Virtue; in Word, I found every thing in finding Mentor; and that which endeared my good Fortune to me, was, that I feared not to lose him again.  
In the mean time, Hazael advanced to the Shoar; we followed; we Embarked with him; our Oars cut the yielding Waters; the Zephyrs played in our Sails; gave Life and easy Motion to the Ship; the Island of Cyprus soon disappeared. Hazael, impatient to know my Sentiments, asked me what I thought of the Manners of that Island? I told him ingenuously to what Dangers my Youth had been exposed, and the Combat I had suffered within me.  
He was tenderly moved with my abhorrence of Vice, and said these Words: O Venus! I acknowledge your Power, and that of your Son; I have burnt Incense upon your Altars: But give me leave to detest the infamous dissolution of the Inhabitants of your Island, and the brutal Impudence, with which they celebrate your Festivals. After this, he discoursed with Mentor of that first Being which formed the Heavens and the Earth; of that pure, infinite and unchangeable Light which is communicated to all without any Diminution; of that supreme and universal Truth which enlightens the Spiritual World as the Sun enlightens the Corporeal. He who has never seen this Light, said he, is as blind as one born without Sight; he passes his Life in a dismal Night, like that of those Regions where the Sun never shines for many Months of the Year; he thinks himself Wise, and is a Fool; he fancies he sees all, and sees nothing; he Dies without seeing any thing; at most he perceives only false and obscure Flashes, vain Shadows, Phantoms, that have no real Being.  
Of this kind are all those, who are carried away by sensual Pleasures, and the Enchantments of Imagination. There are no true Men upon the Earth but those who consult, love and obey this eternal Reason. 'Tis she that inspires us when we think well: 'Tis she that reproves us when we think ill. Our Reason as well as our Life is her Gift. She is as a vest Ocean of Light; the Reason of Men is like little Rivulets emaning from her, which return and lose themselves in her again.  
Tho' I did not yet throughly comprehend the Wisdom of this Discourse, I tasted nevertheless something in it so Pure and so Sublime, that my Heart grew warm, and Truth seemed to shine in all these Words. They continued to speak of the Original of the Gods, of the Hero's of the Poets, of the Golden Age, of the Deluge, of the first Histories of the World, of the River of Oblivion, into which the Souls of the Dead are plunged, of the eternal Punishments prepared for the Impious in the dark Gulf of Tartarus, and of that happy Tranquillity which the Just enjoy in the Elysian Fields without any apprehensions of Change.  
During this Conversation, we saw great numbers of Dolphins covered with Scales, that seemed to be  
of Gold and Azure. They played in the Sea, and lashed the Floods into a Foam. After them came the Tritons, sounding their wreathed Trumpets made of Shells: They surrounded the Chariot of Amphitrite, that was drawn by Sea-Horses whiter than Snow. They cut the Briny Sea, and left vast Furrows behind them. Their Eyes darted Fire, and Smoak issued from their Nostrils. The Chariot of the God-dess was a Shell of a wonderful Figure; 'twas more white than the finest Ivory, and the Wheels were all of Gold. This Chariot seemed to fly upon the surface of the Waters. A Troop of Nymphs came Swimming behind the Chariot: Their lovely Hair hung loose upon their Shoulders, floating at the Pleasure of the Winds. The Goddess had in one Hand a golden Sceptre, with which she commanded the Waves: With the other she held upon her Knee the little God Palemon, her Son, who hung upon her Breast. Her Face was so bright and so majestic, that the black Tempests and all the seditious Winds fled from before her. The Tritons guided the Horses, and held the golden Reins. A large Sail of the richest Purple hung floating in the Air above the Chariot; a Multitude of little Zephyrs hovered about it, and laboured to fill it with their Breath. In the midst of the Air Aeolus appeared, diligent, restless and vehement; his stern and wrinkled Face; his menacing Voice, his Eyebrows hanging down to his Beard; his Eyes full of a dim and austere Fire, dispersed the Clouds, and kept the fierce Aquilons' silent. The vast Whales, and all the Monsters of the Sea came out of their profound Grottoes to gaze upon the Goddess, and with their Nostrils made the briny Waters ebb and flow.  
After we had admired this wonderful Sight, we began to discover the Mountains of Crect, tho' yet we could hardly distinguish them from the Clouds of Heaven, and flow of the Sea. Then we saw the summet of Mount Ida, which rises above all other Mountains of the Island, as an ancient Stag carries his branching Head above the young Fawns that follow him in the Forest. By degrees we saw more distinctly the Coast of the Island, representing the form of an Amphitheatre; as we found the Lands in Cyprus neglected and uncultivated, so those of Crect appeared plentifully covered with all manner of Fruits by the Industry of the Inhabitants.  
On all sides we perceived Towns equalling Cities; well-built Villages, and magnificent Cities: We saw neither Hill nor Vale where the Hand of the diligent Husbandman was not stamped; the Blow had left deep Furrows in every part; Thorns, Briars, and such Plants as are a useless Burden to the Earth, are utterly unknown in this Country. We contemplated with Pleasure the fruitful Valleys, where Troops of Oxen go lowing in the sweet Pastures, that abound with Springs of running Water; the Sheep every where Feeding upon the descent of the Hills; the champion Ground covered with Corn, presented with a liberal Hand by the bountiful Ceres; in a Word, the Mountains adorned with Vines, and Grapes of a rich purple Colour, promising a plentiful Vintage of the delicious Presents of Bacchus, which charm the Cares of Men.  
Mentor told us he had been formerly in Crect, and informed us of what he knew. 
This Island, said he, justly admired by all Strangers, and famous for its hundred Cities, is more than sufficient to nourish all the Inhabitants, tho' they are innumerable; for the Earth never ceases to produce her Fruits if Industry be not wanting; her fertile Bosom can never be exhausted. The more numerous Men are in a Country, provided they be Laborious, the greater abundance they enjoy. They need not be jealous of one another, for this tender Mother multiplies her Gifts according to the number of her Children, if they deserve her Favours by their Labour. The Ambition and Covetousness of Men, are the only Springs of their Unhappiness. They covet all, and make themselves miserable by desiring what is superfluous. If they would be moderate, and contented with what is necessary, we should see Plenty, Peace, Union and Happiness restored to the World.  Minos, the wisest and best of Kings, understood this well. All the admirable Things you shall see in this Island are owing to the excellency of his Laws.  
The Education he appointed for Children, renders their Bodies strong and healthful. They are accustomed from their Infancy to a plain, frugal, laborious Life, because Pleasure enervates both the Body and the Mind. No other Pleasure is ever proposed to them but the acquisition of an invincible Virtue, and solid Glory. This People do not measure men's Courage only by despising Death in the hazards of War; but by the contempt of great Riches, and ignominious Pleasures. Three Vices are punished here which remain unpunished in all other Nations, Ingratitude, Dissimulation, Covetousness.  
They have no need of Laws to suppress Luxury and dissolution of Manners; for such Things are unknown in Crect. Every Man Works; yet no Man desires to be rich. They think all their Labour sufficiently recompensed with an easy and regular Life, in which they enjoy plentifully and quietly all that is truly necessary to Men. Costly Furniture, rich Apparel, delicious Feasts and guilded Palaces, are not permitted in this Country. Their clothes are of fine Wool, wrought with Art, and beautiful in Colour, but without Embroidery or any other Ornament. Their Tables are sober; They drink little Wine; good Bread, with excellent Fruits, and the Milk of the Cattle, make the principal part of their Meals.  
At the most, their Meat is plain dressed, without Sauce or Ragou; and they always take care to reserve the best and strongest of the Cattle to be employed in Husbandry. Their Houses are neat, commodious, pleasant; but without Ornaments. They are not ignorant of the most magnificent Architecture; but that's reserved for the Temples of the Gods: They dare not live in Houses like those of the immortal Being's.  
The great Riches of this People are Health, Strength, Courage; Peace and Union in Families; the liberty of all the Citizens; plenty of Things necessary, and a contempt of those that are superfluous; a habit of Labour, and an abhorrence of Sloth; a mutual emulation of virtuous Actions; submission to the Laws, and a reverence of the just Gods.  
I asked him in what the Authority of the King consisted? And he answered thus. 
The King is above all the People; but the Laws are above the King. He has an absolute Power to do Good; but his Hands are tied, so soon as he attempts to do iii. The Laws entrust him with the care of the People, as the most valuable of all Trusts, on condition to be the Father of his Subjects. They intent, that one Man shall serve by his Wisdom and Moderation to make whole Nations happy; and not that so many Men shall by their Misery and abject Slavery, serve to flatter the Pride and Luxury of one Man. The King ought to have nothing more than other Men, except such assistance as is necessary either to the discharge of his painful Functions, or to imprint on the Minds of the People that Respect which is due to the Person who is to maintain the vigour of the Laws.  
On the other Hand, the King ought to be more sober, more 〈◊〉 to Luxury, more free from Vanity, Haughtiness and Ostentation, than any other Man. He is not to have more Riches and Pleasures, but more Wisdom, Virtue and Glory than the rest of Men. Abroad, he is to be the Defend of his Country, at the Head of their Armies; at Home he is to distribute Justice to the People; to make them good, wise and happy! 'Tis not for his own sake that the Gods have made him King, but only that he may be the Man of his People. He owes all his Time to the People, all his Care, all his Affection; and he is no otherwise worthy of the Crown, than as he forgets his own Interests, to sacrifice himself to the Public Good. Minos appointed that his Children should not reign after him, unless they would reign by these Rules; for he loved his People more than his Family. By this Wisdom he rendered Greet so powerful and so happy. By this Moderation he has effaced the Glory of all Conquerors, who make their People subservient to their Greatness, that is, to their Vanity. In a Word, by his Justice he do served to be the supreme Judge of the Dead in the Regions below.   
Whilst Mentor was speaking we arrived in the Island; we saw the famous Labyrinth, built by the Hands of the ingenious Dedalus, in imitation of the great Labyrinth which we had seen in Egypt. As we were considering this curious Fabric, we beheld the Shoar covered with People, and Multitudes pressing towards a Place that was near the Sea. We asked the reason of their haste, and received this Account from one Nausicrates, a Native of Crect.  
Idomeneus, the Son of Deucalion, and Grandson to Minos, wint with the rest of the Grecian Kings to the Siege of Troy. After the Destruction of that City, he set Sail, in order to return to Crect; but was surprised by so violent a Storm, that the Pilot, and the most experienced Mariners in the Ship, gave themselves for lost. Every one had Death before his Eyes; every one saw the Abyss open to swallow him up; every one deplored his Misfortune, and had not so much as the wretched Hopes of that imperfect Rest, which the Souls enjoy, that have crossed the River Styx, after their Bodies have received Burial. Idomeneus, lifting up his Eyes and Hands to Heaven, invoked Neptune in these Words. O powerful God who commandest the Empire of the Sea, vouchsafe to hear the Prayer of the Distressed; if thou deliverest me from the fury of the Winds, and bringest me safe to Crect, the first Head I see, shall fall by my own Hands a sacrifice to thy Deity.  
In the mean time his Son impatient to see his Father, made haste to meet and embrace him at his Landing; unhappy Youth! who knew not that he was running to his own Destruction. The Father escaped the Storm, and landed in the Port of Syria. He gave Thanks to Neptune for hearing his Prayers, but soon found how fatal they had been to him. A black Presage of his Misfortune made him bitterly repent his rash Vow. He dreaded his own Arrival; he fixed his Eyes upon the Ground: He feared to see whatever was dear to him in the World. But the inexorable Goddess Nemesis, who never fails to punish Men, and especially haughty Kings, pushed him on with a fatal and invisible Hand. Idomeneus arrives, hardly daring to lift up his Eyes: He sees his Son: He starts back with Horror; his Eyes in vain look about for some other Head to serve for his vowed Sacrifice.  
His Son approached, and threw his Arms about his Neck, surprised to see his Father dissolving in Tears, and making no return to his Tenderness. O my Father, said he! Whence comes this Sadness, after so long absence? are you displeased to see your Kingdom, and to be the Joy of Your Son? What have I done? You turn your Eyes away for fear of seeing me.  
The Father overwhelmed with Grief, made no answer. At last, after many bitter Sighs, he said, Ah! Neptune what have I promised? Restore me to the Winds, and to the Rocks, which ought to have dashed me in Pieces, and finished my wretched Life. Let my Son live! O thou cruel God, here, take my Blood and spare his. As he spoke, he drew his Sword to pierce his own Heart; but those that were about him stayed his Hand. The aged Sophronymus, by whom the will of the Gods is conveyed to Men, assured him that he might satisfy Neptune without the Death of his Son. Your Promise, said he, was imprudent; the Gods will not be honoured by Cruelty: Beware of adding to the Error of your Promise, the crime of accomplishing it against the Laws of Nature: Offer a hundred Bulls, white as Snow to Neptune; let their Blood stream about his Altar crowned with Flowers; let the sweetest Incense smoke in Honour of the God.  
Idomeneus heard this Discourse, inclining his Head towards the Earth, and answered not one Word: Fury sat glaring in his Eyes; his pale and disfigured Face changed Colour every Moment, and all his Limbs shook with horror. In the mean time his Son said to him: My Father, here Lam; your Son is ready to Die, to appease the God: I die contented, since my Death will have prevented yours. Strike, O my Father, and suspect not to find in me the least fear of Death, or any thing unbecoming your Son.  
In that Moment Idomeneus transported with Distraction, and possessed by infernal Furies, surprised all that stood about him with Astonishment. He thrust his Sword into the Heart of this Youth, and drew it out again reeking and full of Blood, to plunge it into his own Bowels. But he was once more prevented by those that were present. The Youth fell down into his own Blood; the shades of Death hung upon his Eyes; he opened them a little to the Light, but could not support its Brightness. As a beautiful Lily in the midst of the Field, out up from the Root by the Plowshare, lies down and languishes on the Ground. It receives no more Nourishment from the Earth, and the Springs of Life are intercepted; yet the snowy White and noble Lustre in part remains. So the Son of Idomeneus, like a young and tender Flower, is cut down in the bloom of his Age. The Father through excess of Grief is become insensible, he knows not where he is, nor what he does, nor what he ought to do; he reels to wards the City and demands his Son.  
FINIS.   

The other Parts will be Published in a short time.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES.  
PART TWO, III, IV, V.  
LONDON, Printed for A. and J. Chruchill, at the Black-Swan in Pater-Noster-Row. MDCC.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. II.  
IN the mean time the People being touched with Pity for the Son, and full of Horror at the barbarous Action of the Father, cry out, That the just Gods have abandoned him to the Furies; Their Rage furnishes 'em with Arms; They lay hold of what Weapons come next to hand; Discord breathes a secret Venom into their Breasts; The Cretans, the wise Cretans forget 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 longer 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 destitute of a King to govern 'em, they resolve to choose such an one as will keep up the Purity of the established Laws. And these are the Measures they take for that purpose. All the chief Men of a hundred Cities are now to meet at one Place; they begin with offering Sacrifices; they assemble all the most renowned Sages of the Neighbouring Countries to examine the Wisdom of those who shall be thought worthy of Command; they order public 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 adorned with Wisdom and Virtue: They invite all Strangers to this grand Assembly. Nausicrates having recounted to us this wondrous Story, cries out, Haste therefore, you Strangers, to our Assembly; you shall contend with the Rest, and if the Gods decree the Victory for either of you, he shall Reign in this Country. We followed him, not out of any desire of being victorious, but only out of a Curiosity to see an Election so extraordinary.  
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 Amphitheatre of green Turf, whereon sat in order an innumerable multitude of Spectators. As soon as we came there, we were honourably received; 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 excused himself, upon account of his Age, and Hasael on the score of his Health. My Youth and Vigour left me without Excuse; however, I cast a look upon Mentor to discover his Mind, and I perceived he desired that I should engage: I therefore accepted their Proposal, and stripped myself of all my clothes; they poured Streams of sweet and shining Oil on all my Limbs; and being covered 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, surmounted all those who dared to encounter 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 overcome me, and looking with Pity upon my tender Age, he was about to retire, when I offered to contend with him. Thereupon we laid hold of one another; squeezed each other till we were almost out of Breath; clapped our Shoulders and Feet one against another; distended all our Nerves, and twined our Arms about like Snakes, either of us striving to lift his Antagonist from the Ground. Sometimes he endeavoured to trip me over by pushing me on the right side, sometimes he endeavoured 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 used all his Strength to get uppermost, yet I kept him under me without much difficulty: All the People cried, Victory to the Son of Ulysses, and so I helped the dismayed Rhodian to get up. The Combat with the Cestus was more difficult: The Son of a rich Citizen of Samos having acquired a great Renown in this Exercise, all the rest yielded to him, and I alone offered 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 staggered, he pressed me; I was almost out of Breath, but I was animated by Mentor's Voice, who cried to me, You Son of Ulysses, will you suffer yourself to be vanquished? Anger supplied me with fresh Strength, and I avoided several Blows which would have crushed me down. As soon as the Samian had made a false Blow at me, and that his Arm was stretched out in vain, I surprised him in that stooping Posture, and as he began to step back, I lifted up my Cestus that I might fall upon him with greater force; he endeavoured to recover, but whilst he was in this disadvantageous Posture, he gave me an opportunity to throw him down. He had scarce touched the Ground, when I reached him my hand to raise him; but he got up by himself, covered with Dust and Blood, full of confusion and disorder, not daring to renew the Fight.  
Immediately after began the Chariot-Races: The Chariots were distributed by Lot; mine happened 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 darkened the very Sky; at first I let all my Competitors go before me; a young Lacedaemonian, named Creantor, cast off all the rest behind him; a Cretan, Policlete by name, followed him close: Hippomachus, a Relation of Idomeneus, who aspired to o'ertake him, giving the Reins to his Horses, who were reeking with sweat, leaned on their loose Mane, and his Chariot-Wheels turned so very swift, that they seemed to be without Motion, like the Wings of an Eagle that cuts the Air. My Horses being animated, and having gathered Breath by degrees, I outstriped 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 deprived his Master of the Hopes of the Crown. Policletes leaning too much upon his Horses, and having no firm sitting, tumbled down at a Shock, lost his Reins, and 'twas great luck that he escaped Death. Pisistrates, seeing with Eyes full of Indignation, that I was got up close to him, redoubled his Eagerness: Now he invoked the Gods, promising 'em rich Offerings; then he cheered up his Horses with his Voice: He was afraid lest I should pass between him and the 
* Meta.  Mark; for my Horses which I spared at first, were now able to beat his; so that he had no other Hopes left him, than to stop up my Passage: In order to it, he ventured to break his Wheel against the Mark, and broke it accordingly. I turned about presently to avoid his broken Chariot, and a moment after he saw me at the Goal. The People shouted a second time, and cried out, Victory to the Son of Ulysses, 'tis He the Gods have destined to Reign over us. In the mean time the most illustrious, and the wisest among the Cretans, conducted us into an old and consecrated Wood, remote from the sight of profane Men, where the old Men whom Minos had established 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 opened the Books wherein all the Laws of Minos are collected. As I drew near those old Men, whom Age rendered Venerable, without impairing the Vigour of their Mind, I felt myself 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 shined in their grave Countenances; they spoke with Deliberation, and said nothing beside the purpose; when they happened to differ in Opinion, they were so moderate in maintaining 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 conduced to perfect their Reason, was the Tranquillity of their Minds, freed from the fond Passions and wild Caprices of Youth; they were acted by Wisdom alone, and the Advantage they reaped from their accomplished Virtue, was, that they had such a perfect Mastery over their Passions, that they enjoyed without trouble the pleasant and noble Delight of being governed by Reason. As I was admiring them, I wished my Life were contracted, that I might arrive on the sudden to so valuable an old Age; I accounted Youth unhappy, for being so remote from that calm and clear-sighted Virtue. The Chief among those old Men, opened the Volume of Minos' Laws, which was a great Book usually kept among Perfumes in a golden Box. All those old Men kissed it with great Respect, for they said, That next the Gods, from whom good Laws are derived, nothing ought to be more sacred among 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 governed by those very Laws upon all Occasions: 'Tis the Law, and not the Man that ought to Reign. Such was the Discourse of the Sages. Afterwards he who presided at the Assembly, propounded three Questions which were to be decided by the Maxims of Minos. The first Question was, Which of all Men was most free? Some answered, That 'twas a King who had an absolute Power over his People, and had conquered all his Enemies. Others maintained, That 'twas a Man who being never married, travelled all his Life-time through divers Countries, without being ever subject to the Laws of any Nation. Others fancied, That it was a Barbarian, who living upon Hunting in the midst of Woods, was independent upon any. Government, and liable to no manner of Want. Others thought it was a Man newly made Free, who coming out of a rigorous Servitude, enjoyed more than any other, the sweets of Liberty. Others at last ventured 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 remembered what Mentor had often told me: The most free of all Men, answered I, is he who can be free, even in slavery itself, 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 disengaged from all manner of Fear, or anxious Desire, is subject to the Gods and his Reason only. The old Men looked upon one another smiling, and wondered to find that my Answer was exactly the same with that of Minos.  
Afterwards, they proposed the second Question in these Words; Which is the most unhappy of all Men? Every one answered as he thought. One said, 'Tis a Man who has neither Estate, Health, nor Honour. Another said, 'Tis a Man who is Friendless. Others maintained, That 'tis a Man who has disobedient, ungrateful, and unworthy Children. 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 Unhappiness doth not depend so much upon the Things we suffer, as upon our own impatience and uneasiness which aggravates our Misfortunes. This Speech was highly commended and applauded by the whole Assembly, and every one thought that this Lesbian would carry the Prize in thus solving this Question; but being asked my Opinion, I answered 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 Mankind miserable; His blindness makes him doubly unhappy; for not knowing his Misery, he cannot apply 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 increases daily; he runs to his own Ruin, and the Gods prepare an eternal Punishment to confound him. All the Assembly confessed I had overcome the wise Lesbian, and the old Men declared I had hit upon the true sense of Minos.  
The third Question they asked, was, Which of the two is to be preferred, either a King victorious and invincible in War; or a King less experienced in War, but able to Rule his People wisely in Peace? The Majority answered, That the King invincible in War was to be preferred; 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 than his Enemies will overcome him, and make his People Slaves. Others on the contrary maintained, That the peaceful King was much better, because he would be afraid 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 Masters of other Nations; whereas a peaceful King would sink their Courage into a shameful Effiminacy. They desired to know my Opinion, and I answered thus; A King who knows not how to govern, but either in Peace or in War, and is incapable to rule his People in both, is but a Demi-King; but if you compare a King, who is only skilled in War, to a wise King, who, without being acquainted with War, is able to maintain it upon occasion, by his Generals, I think he is to be preferred to the other: A King whose Mind is entirely bend 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 ruined. What are a People the better for the Conquest their King makes over other Nations, if they are miserable under his Reign? Moreover, long Wars are still attended with great Disorders; the Conquerors themselves grow loose and disorderly in those Times of Confusion. See at what a dear Rate Greece has triumphed over Troy, she was deprived of her Kings for above ten Years; whilst all is ruined by War, the Laws grow faint, Agriculture is neglected, all Arts languish and decay; even the best Princes, when they have a War to carry on, are obliged to commit the greatest of Ills; which is, to tolerate Licentiousness, and make use of wicked Men. How many profligate Villains would be punished during the Peace, whose Audaciousness must needs be rewarded during the Disorders of War? Never had any Nation a conquering Sovereign, but they must suffer much upon account of his Ambition. A Conqueror intoxicated with his Glory, ruins as much his victorious People, as the Nations he has vanquished. 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 Blow nor Sow his Grounds, and so Reap no Harvest. Such a Man seems to be born to destroy, lay waist, 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 Conquests; 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 public Peace; he is religiously Faithful in all his Alliances; his Allies love him, they are not in fear of him, but rather repose an entire Confidence in him. If he happens to have some stirring, haughty, ambitious and troublesome Neighbour, all the other Kings who fear that stirring Neighbour, and in no manner distrust the peaceful King, join themselves in Confederacy with that good King, and keep him from being oppressed. His Integrity, Honesty, and Moderation make him the Arbiter of all the States that surround his; whilst the ambitious King, is odious to all the rest, and ever exposed 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 governs according to the wisest Laws; he discountenances Pomp, Luxury, and all those Arts that serve only to cherish and foment Vice; he promotes 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 easy livelihood by Tilling of their Lands, and multiply every day. This Kingdom contains a numberless Multitude of People, but a People sound in Body, vigorous and strong; not softened by Pleasures, exercised and inur'd in Virtue, not addicted to the Enjoyments of an effeminate luxurious Life; a People that know how to despise Death, and had rather part with their Lives, than with the Liberty 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 used to a Camp, ranking themselves in order of Battle, or the besieging of a Town; but he will find them invincible by their Numbers, their Courage, their Patience upon hard Duty, their Familiarity with Want and Poverty, their Resolution and Obstinace in Fights, and their constant Virtue not to be shaken even by ill Success and Disasters. Moreover, if the King have not Experience enough 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 rather 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 conclude, That a peaceful King who is unskiled in War, is a very imperfect King, since he cannot discharge one of his most important Functions, which is to overcome his Enemies; but at the same time, he is infinitely superior to a conquering King, who wants the necessary Qualifications to govern in Peace, and is only fit for War. I perceived a great many in the Assembly who seemed to dislike my Opinion; but however, the old Men declared I had spoken the Sentiments of Minos. The first of those old Men cried out, I see the fulfilling of one of Apollo's Oracles, which is known through all our Island: Minos having consulted the God to know how long his Progeny would Reign, according to the Laws he had established; Apollo answered him, Thy Offspring will cease to Rule when a Stranger coming into thy Island, shall cause thy Laws to Reign. We feared lest some Stranger should come and Conquer the Isle of Crete, but Idomeneus' Misfortune, 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 defer 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, declared to the People, who were impatient to know the Decision, That I had carried the Prize. His words were scarce out of his Mouth, when there was heard a confused Noise of all the Assembly, every one giving a shout for Joy; the Shore and all the Neighbouring Hills echoed with this general Acclamation, Let the Son of Ulysses, who is as wise as Minos, Reign over the Cretans.  
I paused a while, and then making Signs with my hand, I demanded Silence. In the mean time Mentor whispered me in the Ear: What! will you renounce your own Country? Will your ambitious Desire of a Crown make you forget Penelope, who now expects you as her only Hopes, and the great Ulysses, whom the Gods resolved to restore to his Family? These words went to my Heart, and checked my Ambition of being a King. But now the profound Silence of this tumultuous Assembly gave me occasion thus to proceed; Illustrious Cretans, I am not worthy to Command over you. The Oracle you mentioned, shows indeed that the Offspring 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 marked out by the Oracle: I have made his Prediction good, I am come into this Island, I have discovered the true Sense of the Laws, and I wish my Explanation may contribute to make them Reign with the Man whom you shall choose: 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 Kingdom. Suffer me to pursue what Fate hath destined; if I entered your Lists hear 'twas not with hopes to Rule here, but only to merit your Esteem and your Pity, and that I might be furnished by you with Necessaries for my speedy Return into my Native Country; I would rather choose to obey my Father Ulysses, and comfort my Mother Penelope, than Reign over all the Nations of the Universe: Oh! Cretans, you see the bottom of my Heart: I must leave you, but Death alone shall put a Period to my continued Gratitude; yes, Telemachus will love the Cretans, and be as much concerned for their Honour, as if 'twere his own, as long as he has Breath. I had scarce done speaking, 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 humane Shape? Others maintained, They had seen me in other Countries, and that they knew me again. Others cried, we must force him to Reign here. At last I resumed 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 rejected; in these words therefore I addressed myself 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 steady and constant Virtue, puts them in Practice. For my part, I am young, and consequently without Experience, exposed to the Violence of Passions, and more fit to be instructed by Obeying, in order to Command hereafter, than to Command at present: Therefore seek not a Man that has overcome others in those Trials 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 continued Practice of those Laws; let his Actions rather than his Words, bespeak your Choice.  
All the old Men charmed with this Discourse, and seeing the Applauses of the whole Assembly still increasing, 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, answered I, to whom I am beholden for all you have admired 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 showed 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 Misfortunes had besallen me as soon as I began to neglect his Counsels. At first they took no notice of him because of his plain negligent Dress; his modest Countenance, his being silent almost all the while, and his reserved Looks: But when they viewed him more attentively, they discovered in his Countenance something that bespoke a firm, noble, and elevated Soul; they took notice of the liveliness of his Eyes, and how active he was in all his Actions; they asked him several Questions, which he answered to the Admiration of all; they resolved to make him their King, but he excused himself without any concern: He told them he preferred 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 Surprise, and the Insinuations of Flatterers, they often did that Mischief they never intended. He added, 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 obliged to Command! 'Tis only to one's own Country, when she invests a Man with Power, that he ought to offer the dear Sacrifice of his Liberty, in order to consult and promote the public Good.  
At these words the Cretans, still full of wonder and admiration, asked him, What Man they ought to choose? A Man, replied he, that's well known to you all, since you must be governed by him, and such a one as is afraid to govern you. Whoever desires Sovereignty, is not acquainted with it; and how then will he perform the Duties incumbent 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 surprised to see these two Strangers resuse a Crown, which a great many others seek after with eager Ambition, they enquied who came along with them. Nausicrates, who had conducted them from the Port to the Circus, where the Games were celebrated, showed them Hasael, who was come with Mentor and myself from the Isle of Cyprus; but their wonder still increased, 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 possessed 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 renounced Riches, and the vain Pomp of a Crown, that you would not purchase them at the expense of your Liberty, and with the Fatigue and anxious Cares which are inseparably attending upon Rule and Government. Hasael answered, Do not understand me, Oh! Cretans, as if I despised Men. No: I know too well what great and noble Employment 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 Vainglorious Men. Life is short; Greatness and Elevation do more provoke the Passions, than they can satisfy them: My design in coming so far was not to purchase those false Goods, but only to learn to be easy without them. I must bid you farewell; I have no other Thoughts than to return to a peaceful and retired Life, where Wisdom shall fill my Heart, and nourish my Soul; and where the hopes that result from virtue towards 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) cried out, You, the wisest and greatest of all Mortals, tell us then who it is we must choose to be our King, for we will not let you go till you have determined our Choice. To which he answered, Whilst I was among the Crowd of the Spectators, I took notice of a vigorous old Man who showed no manner of eagerness or concern; I asked who he was, and answer was made, he was called Aristomedes: Afterwards I heard some Body telling him that his two Sons were amongst the Combatants, at which he expressed 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 loved 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 increasing, I enquired into the Life and Conversation of this old Man; One of your Citizens answered me, He bore Arms a long time; his Body is covered with Wounds and Scars, but his plain and sincere Virtue, entirely averse to Flattery, rendered him troublesome to Idomeneus, which is the Reason that King did not employ him in the Trojan War. He feared a Man who would give those wise Counsels, which he was not inclined to follow; he was even jealous of the Honour and 〈◊〉 which he would infallibly have acquired in a little time; he forgot all his past Services, and lest him here Poor, and exposed to the Contempt of those base Men, who value nothing but Riches; but contented in his Poverty, he lives a pleasant Life in a remote Place of this Island, where he Tills and Manures 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 turned him out of his House, since which he has abandoned himself to fond Ambition, and all extravagant Pleasures. This, Oh! Cretans, is what I have been informed; you can tell whether that Relation be true: But if that Man be such as he is described to be, what need you celebrate any Games? Why do you assemble so many unknown Persons? You have amongst you a Man who knows you, and whom you know; one who understands the War; who has shown his Courage not only against Darts and Arrows, but against dreadful Poverty, and has despised Riches acquired by Flattery; one who loves Work; who knows how useful Agriculture is to a Nation; who abhors Pomp and Luxury; who suffers not himself to be unmanned by a blind Fondness for his Children, and loves the Virtue of the one, and condemns the Vices of the other; in a word, a Man who is already 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 cried out, 'Tis true, Aristomedes is such as you describe him; 'tis he that deserves the Crown. The old Men ordered he should be called; he was found amongst the Crowd, undistinguished from the meaner Sort; and having appeared before 'em, clam and unconcerned, they declared to him that they made him King. He answered, 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 refractory 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 without any other distinction than according to their Merit, like the rest of the Citizens. At these words the Air was filled with joyful Acclamations; the Chief of those old Men who were the Guardians of the Laws, put the Crown on Aristomedes' Head; and afterwards they offered Sacrifices to Jupiter, and the other great Gods. Aristomedes gave us Presents, not with that Magnificence which is usual to Kings, but with a noble Simplicity: He gave to Hasael the Laws of Minos, written with Minos' 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 offered him all the Assistance he had occasion for. Now because we pressed our Departure, he ordered a Ship to be fitted up, and manned with a great number of strong Rowers, and armed Men; he gave us withal, changes of clothes, and all manner of Provisions. At that very instant there arose a fair Wind for Ithaca; this Wind being contrary to Hasael, obliged him to stay behind; he saw us go away, and embraced us as dear Friends, whom he feared 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, never to be parted any more. Oh! that my Ashes might be gathered into the same Urn with yours! As he spoke these last Words, he shed a Flood of Tears, and his Voice was checked 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; remember what Dangers you have exposed 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 beseech them to conduct you safe into your Country, to confound the Insolence of your Foes, and bless you with the sight of Ulysses, reigning 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 Mother. Oh! Mentor, whose boundless Wisdom leaves me no room, even to wish you an addition of any Thing: Go both in Peace, and make each other happy; remember Aristomedes, and if ever the Ithacians have occasion for the Cretans, depend upon me as long as I have Breath. He embraced us, and we could not forbear mingling our Tears with our Thanks.  
In the mean time the Wind which filled our spreading Sails, seemed to promise a safe Voyage. And now Mount Ida began to decrease in our sight, and looked like a little Hill; the Cretan Shore disappeared, and the Coast of Peloponesus seemed to advance into the Sea to meet us half way: But on the sudden a black Storm overcast the Sky, and provoked the boisterousness of the Waves; the Day was turned into Night, and ghastly Death hovered over us. Oh, Neptune, 'tis you, who with your proud Trident, stirred up the Rage of the watery Deep! Venus, to be revenged 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 assured me. Oh! Neptune, said she, will you suffer those impious Men to defy my Power unpunished? 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 smiled, believing our Wreck inevitable. Our Pilot being now beside himself, cried 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 Mainmast, and a moment after we heard the bottom of our Ship splitting against the pointed Rocks. The Water comes in at several Places; the Ship sinks; all the Crew of Rowers fill the tempestuous Airwith lamentable Cries. I embraced Mentor, and told him, Death is come at last, we must embrace it with Courage; the Gods have delivered 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 answered, True Courage finds always some Remedy or other; it is not enough to expect Death calmly and unconcerned, unless, without being afraid of it, we use all our Endeavours to avoid it. Let You and I take one of the Rower's Seats, whilst 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 ourselves. 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 severed from its Stump, he shoved it out of the Ship, and leaped upon it amidst the furious Waves. Then he called me by my Name, and encouraged me to follow him. And now, as a great Tree, which all the confederate Winds attack in vain, and which remains unmoved, and fixed to its deep Roots; so Mentor, not only resolute and courageous, but also calm and undisturbed, seemed to command the Winds and the Sea. I followed him: For who would not have followed, being encouraged by Mentor? And now we are a-drift upon the Mast, which we steer sometimes one way, sometimes another: This Mast proved a great help to us, for we sat a-stride upon it; whereas had we been forced to swim all the while, our strength had soon failed us. But the Storm did often over-set that great Tree; so that being sunk into the Sea, we swallowed great Draughts of the briny Flood, which run afterwards out of our Mouths, Ears, and Noses; and we were fain to contend with the Waves to get uppermost again. Sometimes also we were overwhelmed 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. Whilst we were in that dreadful Condition, Mentor, as calm and unconcerned as he is now upon this green Turf, told me; Do you think, Oh! Telemachus, that your Life is abandoned to the Winds and the Waves? Do you believe they can destroy you unless the Gods have ordered it? No, no, the Gods overrule 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 admired his wise Speech, which gave me a little comfort, but my Mind was not calm enough to answer him. We passed 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 pacified, 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 Furrows in a ploughed 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 seemed to promise a fair Day. All the East was streaked with fiery Beams; and the Stars which had so long been hid begun to twinkle again, but withdrew as soon as Phoebus appeared on the lightened Horizon. We descried Land afar off, and the Wind helped us on towards it. I felt Hopes reviving in my Heart; but we saw none of our Companions. 'Tis probable their Courage failed 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 bruised us to pieces; but we endeavoured to oppose to them the end of our Mast, which Mentor used to as much advantage as a wise Steersman does the best Rudder: Thus we escaped those dreadful Rocks, and found at last a clear and easy Coast, where we swum without 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 motionless, with Eyes fixed upon him, began to look upon one another, and inquire among themselves who those two Men were, of whom the Gods took so much care. Who did ever hear, said they, such wonderful Adventures? The Son of Ulysses 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, Mercury, or even the great Apollo. But who is this Mentor, who looks like a plain obscure Man, of mean Extraction? When one views him closely, there appears in him something above a Man.  
Calypso listened to the Discourse with a Concern which she could not well conceal; her Eyes still wandered from Mentor to Telemachus, and from Telemachus to Mentor. Sometimes she would have Telemachus begin again that long Story of his Adventures; then, on the sudden, she contradicted herself; and, at last rising abruptly from her Seat, she carried Telemachus alone into a Wood of Myrtles, where she used all her Arts to know from him if Mentor was Deity under the Disguise of a Humane Shape. Telemachus could not satisfy her; for Minerva, who accompanied him under the Shape of Mentor, had not discovered herself 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 concern. Therefore he mistook all along Minerva for Mentor; and all the artful Insinuations of Calypso could not discover what she desired to know. In the mean time, all the Nymphs crowding about Mentor, took great delight in ask him Questions; One of them asked him the Particulars of his Travels into AEthiopia; another desired to be acquainted with what he had seen at Damascus; and a third asked him, whether he had known Ulysses before the Siege of Troy? He answered every one with gentleness and civility; and tho' his Words were plain, yet they were not without their Graces. 'Twas not long before Calypso returned and interrupted their Conversation; and whilst 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 insensibly 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 something 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, suffered himself to be attacked by the inquisitive Calypso; nay, sometimes he gave her a Glimpse of Hope that she might puzzle him with her Questions, and discover the Truth through his dubious Answers. But when she thought herself most sure to satisfy her Curiosity, her Hopes vanished away; what she imagined to hold fast, gave her presently the slip, and a short Answer from Mentor renewed her Uncertainty. Thus she spent whole days; now flattering Telemachus, and then endeavouring to take him away from Mentor, whom she hoped no more to engage 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' Heart, and a Deity more powerful than Calypso, came to her Assistance.  
Venus still full of Resentment for the Contempt which Mentor and Telemachus expressed of the Worship which was paid her in the Island of Cyprus, was enraged to see that these two rash Mortals had escaped the fury of the Winds and Sea in the late Storm; she complained bitterly to Jupiter; but the Father of the Gods, unwilling to let her know, that Minerva, in the Shape of Mentor, had preserved the Son of Ulysses, told Venus with a smile, That he gave her leave to revenge herself on those two Men. She therefore leaves the heavenly Mansions; neglects the sweet Perfumes which are burnt on the Altars at Paphos, Cythera and Idalia; flies in her Chariot drawn by Doves; calls her Son Cupid, and with a Face full of sorrow, but adorned with new Charms, she thus speaks to him; Dost 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, presented herself 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 despised and abandoned 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 perfumed all the sacred Thickets around. Cupid remained in the Arms of Calypso, who, tho' a Goddess, began to feel a secret Flame glide into her Breast. To ease herself, she presently gave him to a Nymph who happened to come to her at that instant, whose Name was Eucharis; but, alas! how often did she repent it afterwards? At first, nothing appeared more innocent, more gentle, more lovely, nor more graceful than this Child; by his sprightly, 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 betray; and never smiled 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 invulnerable, 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 festered in their Breasts. In the mean time Telemachus, seeing that Boy playing with the Nymphs, he was surprised with his Beauty and Gentleness; he embraces 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 softened with hidden desire. Do you see those Nymphs, said he to Mentor? How different they are from those Women of the Isle of Cyprus, whose very Beauty was shocking, because accompanied with Immodesty and Lewdness; but these immortal Beauties display a charming Modesty and Innocence. At these Words he Blushed, but could not tell why: He could neither forbear Speaking of them, nor go on with his Discourse; his Words were broken, obscure, incoherent, and sometimes wild and foolish. Whereupon Mentor told him: Oh! Telemachus, the dangers you escaped in the Isle of Cyprus were nothing if compared with those you are now exposed to, and which you are not at all aware of; barefaced Lewdness strikes us with Horror, and brutish Impudence raises our Indignation, but a modest Beauty is most dangerous and surprising; when we begin 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 extinguished; 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 Mother Venus has brought into this Island to revenge your Contempt of those Rites which are performed in her Honour in the Isle of Cythera; he has wounded the Heart of Calypso, and made her passionately in Love with you; he had fired 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 interrupted 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 Buried 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 obliged her to Marry a new Husband. Shall I return to Ithaca to see her engaged with another, contrary to the solemn Faith she had given to my Father? The Ithacians have quite forgot Ulysses, and we cannot return thither without running upon certain Death, since Penelope's Lovers are already possessed of all the Avenues to the Port, the better to make our Destruction sure at our return. Mentor replied: Your Discourse is the result of a blind Passion, we are wonderfully industrious 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 employ all our Wit in deceiving ourselves, 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 befell you in Egypt, did they not turn on a sudden to your Prosperity? What unknown Hand dispelled all those impending Dangers which threatened your Head at the City of Tyre? After so many wonderful Deliverances can you be doubtful of what the Gods have in store for you? But no, you suppose yourself 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 Women; and in spite of Heaven do what your Father thought unworthy of him. These reflecting Expressions touched Telemachus to the very quick; He felt his Heart relenting at Mentor's Words; His Griefs was attended with Shame; He feared both the departure and indignation of so wise a Person, as one to whom he was so very much obliged; but a newborn Passion, with which he was but little acquainted, 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 inconsistent with Virtue, and against the supreme Decrees of Heaven, Virtue calls you back into your own Country, that you may see and comfort Ulysses and Penelope; Virtue bids you not to abandon yourself to an extravagant Passion: The Gods, who delivered you from so many Dangers, in order to make your Glory shine as bright as your Father's, the Gods, I say, command you to quit this Island. Love alone, that base Tyrant Love, is able to detain you here. Yet, what will you do with an immortal Life, bereft of Liberty, Virtue and Honour? Your sort of Life would still be the more wretched, in that it were endless. Telemachus answered him only with Sighs: Sometimes he wished that Mentor had forced him away from Calypso; and sometimes he wished that his Departure had rid him of a troublesome rigid Friend, who ever reproached him with his Weakness. His Heart was continually in suspense betwixt various Thoughts, just as the Sea is tossed by contrary Winds, that sport with its inconstant Waves. He often lay motionless on the Seashore; sometimes in a lonely and gloomy Covert of a Wood he shed a Flood of bitter Tears, and cried like a roaring Lion. He was grown Lean; his hollow Eyes were full of a devouring 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 insensibly 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 Stratagem to deliver him from so great a Danger. He took notice that Calypso was desperately in Love with Telemachus, and that Telemachus was no jest taken with the Charms of the young Nymph Eucharis; for cruel Cupid, the better to torment Mortals, makes them seldom love the Person by whom they are beloved. 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 perceived 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 inspired him with this Passion? Calypso was touched to the quick with these Words, and was not able to contain her Resentments. That Telemachus, answered she, who despised 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 wonderful Actions, whose Heart is so easily softened by shameful, effeminate Pleasures, and who seems to be Born only to lead an obscure inglorious Life among Women? Mentor was not a little pleased to find that Jealousy began to work in Calipso's Heart, but said no more at that time, for fear she should distrust him; only he expressed his concern by his sad and downcast Looks. The Goddess complained to him about all she saw, and renewed 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 entertain 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' Measures, she declared that she designed 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 prepared 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 expressed for thee? Oh! all ye powerful Deities of Heaven and Hell, hear the Complaints of an unfortunate Goddess: Hast to confound and destroy this perfidious, ungrateful 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 destroyed 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 also; yes, she shall see it, that Sight will break her Heart, and her Despair shall be my Bliss and Delight.  
Whilst Calypso was thus speaking her Eyes glowed and sparked with Fire; her wild, distracted Looks were ever unsteady; her trembling Cheeks were full of black and blue Spots; her Colour changed every moment; her Face was often o'er spread with a deadly Paleness; her Tears did not flow so plentifully as before, their Spring being in a great measure dried up by Rage and Despair; her Voice was hoarse, trembling and broken. Mentor observed the different Motions of her Passion, and spoke no more to Telemachus; he used him as we do a Man desperate ill, and abandoned by the Physicians, and often looked upon him with Eyes of Pity. Telemachus was sensible how guilty he was, and unworthy of Mentor's Friendship; he durst not look up for fear he should meet the Eyes of Mentor, whose very Silence condemned him: Sometimes he had a mind to embrace him, and confess to him how deeply he was sensible of his Fault, but he was hindered as well by a mistaken shame, as by a fear of doing more than he intended, to avoid a Danger which seemed so pleasing to him; for he could not yet be prevailed upon by Reason to conquer his fond and beloved Passion. The Gods and Goddesses of bright Olympus were now met together, and with profound silence kept their Eyes fixed on the Island of Calypso, 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, under the shape of Mentor, employed Jealousy, the inseparable Companion of Love, against Love himself. Jupiter was resolved to be only a Spectator of this Contest, and to stand Neuter betwixt the Combatants. In the mean time Eucharis, who was afraid to lose Telemachus, used 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 supplied her with new Charms, insomuch that her Beauty eclipsed then even that of Calypso herself. Calypso seeing her afar off, viewed herself in one of her Crystal Fountains, and being ashamed of her own Face, she run to hide herself into the remotest Part of her Grotto, and spoke thus to herself. Then 'tis in vain, I have endeavoured to disturb the Joys of these two Lovers, by declaring that I designed 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 deceived me; what a treacherous Present you gave me! Pernicious Child! Poisoning Love! I gave the free entrance 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 rebelled against me, and my being a Goddess serves only to make my Miseries eternal. Oh! that I could destroy myself 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 Calypso, why wouldst thou destroy a guiltless Youth, whom thou hast thyself plunged into an Abyss of Misfortunes! I myself have conveyed 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 abandoned 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 Calypso, whose Life is a Burden to her, and who cannot meet Death to ease her Torments; leave her disconsolate, covered with shame and full of despair with the proud Eucharis.  
Thus she spoke to herself in her Grotto; but rushing out on the sudden, 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 whilst Love is full awake to undo him. I cannot bear any longer with that shameful Indifference you show; How can you calmly see the Son of Ulysses disgrace his Father, and neglect the great Things to which he is destined? Is it you or me, whom his Parents have entrusted with his Conduct? I endeavour to find Remedies to cure his distempered Heart, and shall you stand idle and unconcerned? 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, wherein are all manner of Instruments necessary 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 recall her Words. Mentor did not lose one moment of time; he went down into that Cave, found the Instruments, felled the Poplars, and in one day equipped and fitted up a Ship for Sea; for Minerva's Power and Industry require but very little time to bring the greatest Works to Perfection. Calypso, in the mean time was tortured by a cruel anxiety of Thoughts; she had a mind to see whether Mentor's Work went forward, but could not find in her Heart to leave the Hunting-match, where Eucharis would have enjoyed the Company of Telemachus in full Liberty. Her Jealousy never suffered her to lose sight of those two Lovers; but at the same time, she endeavoured to lead the Hunters toward that Place where she knew Mentor was Building 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 feared 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 Eucharis said to Telemachus, as it were in jest; Are not you afraid of being reproved by Mentor for going out a Hunting without him? Oh! how much you are to be pitied for living 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 indeed have suffered yourself to be governed by him, when you was not able to govern yourself; but after you have showed so much Wisdom, why should you be used like a Child? These cunning, insinuating Words went deep into Telemachus' Heart, and filled it with spite and hatred against Mentor, whose Yoke he was willing to shake off; he feared to see him again, and was so perplexed that he returned Eucharis no Answer. Whilst they were a Hunting, every Body was in a continued hurry; but at last, towards the Evening they returned home through 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 overspread with a thick Cloud, like that of gloomy Death. Her trembling Knees betrayed her sinking Body; a cold Sweat overran all her Limbs; she let herself fall on those Nymphs that stood about her, and as Eucharis reached her Hand to support her, she put it back with a dreadful Frown. Telemachus, who saw that Ship, but did not see Mentor, who was already gone home, having just finished his Work, asked the Goddess whose that Ship was, and what she was designed for? She knew not at first what Answer to make, but a while after she said; I caused 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! cried 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 liberty enough to think on their meaning at first. All the Company was silent and full of surprise: Eucharis blushed, and cast her Eyes down; she stayed behind the rest Speechless, not daring to show herself: Yet whilst 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 seemed to him as a Dream, but such a Dream as filled him with perplexing and disquieting Thoughts. Calypso, more fierce and wild than a Lioness that had her Whelps taken from her, run up and down the Forest, without knowing whither she was going. At last she found herself at the Entrance 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 Misfortunes are not at an end: No, ungrateful Wretch, if I turn thee out of my Island, 'tis only that thou may'st become a Prey to new Disasters; then I shall be revenged; thou shalt wish again for Calypso, but all in vain; Neptune, still angry at thy Father, who offended him at Sicily, and solicited 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 revenge me; may'st thou in the middle of the raging Sea, hang Thunderstruck, 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 revived in her Heart the fond desire of staying Telemachus: Let him live, said she, to herself, let him stay here; perhaps, he may at last be sensible how much I have done for him; Eucharis cannot bestow Immortality upon him, as I can. Oh! too, too rash Calypso, thou hast betrayed thyself by thy rash Oath; thou art now engaged, and the Stygian Waves by which thou hast sworn, leave thee no manner of hope. These words were heard by no Body; but one might see the Picture of a Fury in her ghastly Face, and all the pestilential Venom of black Cocythus seemed to reek out of her Heart. Telemachus was seized with Horror: She perceived it; for what can be hid from a jealous Lover? And the Trouble of Telemachus redoubled the Transports of the Goddess. Like a furious Bacchanal who fills the Air with frightful Roar, and makes the Thracian Mountains resound with her Shrieks: Thus Calypso roves about the Woods with a Dart in her Hand, calling all her Nymphs, and threatening to strike any one that shall refuse to follow her; frighted by her Threats, they all crowd after her with speed; even Eucharis advances with Tears in her Eyes, keeping her Looks fixed at a distance upon Telemachus, but not daring to speak to him any more. The Goddess shivered when she saw her, and her Fury redoubled when she perceived that even Grief and Affliction served to heighten the Beauty of her Rival.  
In the mean time, Telemachus being 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 follow you; Oh! rid me of my Troubles, rid me of myself; 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 loved 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 weakness, and the violence of his Passions, cannot be called wise; for he is still a stranger to himself, and cannot stand upon his Guard against himself. 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, without suffering you to fall into it; therefore conceive now what you could never have comprehended unless you had experienced it yourself. You have been told of the Treacheries of Love, who flatters in order to destroy; and who, under an outward 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 robbed you of your Heart, and you yourself was pleased with his Robbery. You laboured to find Pretences to conceal to yourself the 〈◊〉 Wound of your Heart; you endeavoured to deceive me and yourself; you was afraid of nothing; 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 consumed 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 beloved by the Gods, since they furnish you with so fair an opportunity to avoid Love, and to return to your dear native Country; Calypso herself is forced 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 pulled him along toward the Sea-Shore. Telemachus followed him unwillingly, still looking behind him, and keeping his Eyes fixed upon Eucharis, who went away from him; and tho' he could not see her Face, yet he viewed with admiration her fine Hair tied behind with a Crimson Ribbon, her loose Garments playing with the Wind, and her noble, portly Gate; he'd feign have kissed 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 waked out of a profound Sleep, he said to Mentor, I am resolved 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 Farewell; at least suffer me to tell her; Oh! Nymph! the cruel Gods, the Gods jealous of my Happiness, 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 Consolation, or kill me now with excess of Grief. However, think not I will either stay in this Island, or abandon myself to Love; I have no such Passion in my Breast; I only feel the Effects of Friendship and Gratitude for Eucharis; I only desire to give her Proofs of it once again, and after that I'll follow you without delay.  
How much I pity you! answered Mentor; your Passion is so very fierce and violent, that you are not sensible of it; you think you are calm and composed, and yet you call upon Death; you boast that you are not conquered 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 lightheaded, through a violent 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 Fortune, which the Gods have promised you by those many Wonders they have done in your Favour; you renounce all those Advantages to lead an inglorious Life with Eucharis. Will you still pretend that 'tis not Love that makes you concerned 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 lament your Blindness: Fly, Oh! Telemachus, fly; for Love is a Foe not to be conquered 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 forgot what care I have taken of you since your Infancy, and what Dangers you have escaped by my wise Counsels; either be ruled 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 suffered 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 compared with mine. I held my Tongue; I fed upon my own Grief, and stifled my Sighs only to give you time to come to yourself again, and acknowledge your Error. My Son, my dear Son, ease my oppressed Heart; restore to me what I hold dearer than my own Life, restore to me my lost Telemachus; restore yourself to yourself. If your Wisdom can surmount 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 Telemachus, who was not yet confirmed enough in his new Resolution to follow him of himself, was yet willing to suffer himself to be led away without Resistance. Minerva, who kept still the Shape of Mentor, covering 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 being in that Island. At last they arrived at a very steep Rock, on the Sea-Shore, which was continually insulted by the foaming Tide; they looked from thence whether the Ship, Mentor had built, was still in the same Place, but perceived a very sad Spectacle.  
Cupid was nettled to the quick, not only by the unknown old Man's insensibility, but also by his robbing him of Telemachus; his Rage drew Tears from him, and made him run to Calypso, who wandered up and down the shady Woods; she fetched 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 suffer yourself to be conquered by a feeble Mortal, who is a Prisoner in your Island! Why do you let him go? Oh! unlucky Boy, answered she, I will hear no more of thy pernicious Counsels; 'tis thou hast broke my soft and profound Tranquillity, and cast me into an endless Abyss of Misery: 'Tis now past recall; 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 away too; for thou hast done me more mischief than he. Cupid having wiped off his Tears, with a malicious 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' 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 haste; his Diligence which filled 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 conveyed pleasing Hopes and Joys into the very bottom of Calipso's Heart, and allayed the wild Fury and Despair of the Goddess, just as a cooling Breeze, which blows on the grassy Margin of a purling Stream, refreshes a Flock of Sheep, which was scorched by excessive Heat. Her Aspect became clear and serene; the fierceness of her Eyes was softened; those black Thoughts, and carking Cares, which preyed upon her Heart, fled from her for a moment; she stopped her wand'ring Course; she smiled; she caressed wanton Cupid, and by her Fondness prepared new Torments for herself. Cupid highly pleased with having persuaded Calypso, flew instantly in order to persuade the Nymphs who were wand'ring and dispersed 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. Thereupon they take lighted Torches in their Hands, run to the Sea-Shore, fill the Air with dreadful Roar, and toss about their dishevelled Hair like the furious Priestesses of Bacchus: And now the greedy Flames devour the Ship, which burns the more fiercely as she is made of dry Wood, daubed over with Rosin; and a Cloud of Smoak, streaked with Flames, rises up to the very Skies. Telemachus and Mentor behold this Conflagration from the Top of the Rock; and as Telemachus heard the Shouting of the Nymphs, he was almost tempted to rejoice at it; for his wounded Heart was not yet well cured, and Mentor perceived that his Passion was like a Fire not quite extinguished, which now and then breaks through the Ashes that covered it, and cast forth bright Sparks of Fire. Now, said Telemachus, must I return to my former Engagements, since we have no Hopes left to quit this Island. By that, Mentor understood that Telemachus was going to relapse into his Follies, and that he had not one moment to lose: He espied 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 Calypso was inaccessible to all Mortals. At that very instant the wise Mentor gave a push to Telemachus, who sat on the the sharp end of the Rock, cast him down into the Sea, and threw himself down after him. Telemachus amazed and stunned by his violent Fall, drunk great Draughts of briny Water, and was for a while tossed about by the Waves; but at last, coming to himself, and seeing Mentor, who reached him his Hand to help him to swim, he thought on nothing but flying from the fatal Island. The Nymphs who expected to have kept them Prisoners, cried and howled with great Fury, being enraged at the disappointment. The disconsolate Calypso returned into her Grotto, which she filled with hideous Roar. Cupid, who saw his Triumph turned 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 Courage, and his Love for Virtue, reviving in his Heart. I am sensible, cried 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! Father! How kind the Gods were to me, when they gave me your Assistance, though by my Folly I deserved to be deprived of it, and be left alone to myself. I fear now, neither the Sea, the Winds, nor the Storm; I only am afraid of my own Passions; but of all Passions, Love is more dangerous than a thousand Wrecks.  
The Ship that stood still, towards which they swum, was a Phenician Bottom bound to Epirus. Those Phoenicians who were Aboard her had seen Telemachus in his Voyage to Egypt, but could not know him amidst the Waves. As soon as Mentor came within hearing, he lifted up his Head out of the Water, and with a strong Voice cried to them; Oh! Phenicians! You who at all times are ready to give Assistance to all other Nations, do not deny your Help to two Men who expect their Safety from your Humanity; if you have any Respect for the Gods, receive us into your Ship; we will go along with you wherever you go: The Commander of the Ship answered, We will receive you with joy, for we are not ignorant how we ought to relieve 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 swum a long while, and struggled with the fierce Waves. By degrees they recovered their Spirits; they had other clothes given them, for theirs were soaked through by asfthe briny Water, which dropped on every side. As soon as they were able to speak, all the Phoenicians 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 possessed by a cruel Goddess, who never suffers any Mortal to land there; besides, it is encompassed by huge craggy Rocks, which are continually insulted by the wanton Waves, and not to be approached without splitting against them. You say true, answered Mentor, 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 carried into Epirus, where we have Friends who will take care to furnish us with all Necessaries for our short Passage from thence to Ithaca; and we will for ever be obliged 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 Calypso, had made him much wiser; he disinherited his own self; he was sensible how much he wanted the prudent Counsels of Mentor; and when he could not speak to him to ask his Advice, he consulted his Eyes, and endeavoured to guests at his Thoughts.  
The Phenician Master of the Ship fixing his Eyes upon Telemachus, remembered he had seen him some where; but 'twas a confused Remembrance which he knew not how to clear: Give me leave, said he to Telemachus, to ask you whether you remember you saw me before, for methinks I am no Stranger to your Face, tho' I cannot tell where I have seen you; perhaps your Memory will help out mine. Telemachus answered him with joy and surprise. When I first looked 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 Egypt or at Tyre. Thereupon the Phenician, like a Man who wakes in the Morning, and by degrees calls back the Dreams of the Night which begun to fly away, cried out on a sudden; You are Telemachus, for whom Narbal conceived so great a Love, when we returned from Egypt; I am his Brother of whom he has undoubtedly spoken to you often, since I left you with him, after the Expedition into Egypt. My Affairs carried me to the last Extremity 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, answered 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 filled 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 exposed to the barbarous Treatment of the cruel Pygmalion? Adoam, interrupting him, said: Know, Oh Telemachus! 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 plied their Oars amain, and cut the yielding Floods. After that he took Telemachus and Mentor to entertain them aside: I am going, said he, addressing himself to Telemachus, to satisfy your Curiosity; Pygmalion is no more, the just Gods have rid Mankind 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 Period to his; there was not a Tyrian but was every Day exposed to fall a Sacrifice to his Distrust; his very Guards were more exposed than any Body else; for his Life being in their Power, he feared them more than all the rest of Men, and upon the least Suspicion he Sacrificed them to his Safety; nevertheless he could not find himself safe any where, since those who were the trusties of his Life, being in a continual Danger, they could not get out of their uneasy Condition, but by preventing the Tyrant's cruel Suspicions, and putting him to Death.  
The impious Astarbe, whom you have so of often heard mentioned, was the first who resolved 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 hoped to place on the Throne. The better to succeed in her Desing, she persuanded the King, that the eldest of his two Sons, named Phadael, impatient to wear the Crown had conspired against his Life; she procured false Witnesses to prove the Conspiracy, so that the unhappy Father put to Death his innocent Son; the Second, named 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 required he should be removed from Court, for fear he should enter into Combinations with the Malcontents. As soon as he was embarked, those who commanded the Ship being corrupted by that cruel Woman, took Measures in order to be Shipwrecked in the Night, and having cast the young Prince overboard, they saved their Lives by Swimming to other Barks that waited for them. In the mean time Pygmalion 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 Degree, that he reposed an entire Confidence in that wicked Woman. Yet at the same time his extreme Avarice prompted him to make a way with Joazar (whom Astarbe loved with so much Passion) in order to seize upon his vast Riches. But while Pygmalion was tortured by Distrust, Love and Avarice, Astarbe thought it convenient to put him to Death with all speed. She was apprehensive 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 Household willing to imbrue their Hands in the King's Blood; she hoard every Day of some new Conspiracy or other, but she was afraid of trusting any Body, lest she should be betrayed. At last, she thought most safe to Poison Pygmalion herself. He was used to Diet by himself with her, and dressed all his Victuals with his own Hands, not daring to trust any Body else; he locked himself up in the remotest Part of his Palace, the better to conceal his Distrust, and that he might not be observed whilst he was Dressing his Victuals. He deprived himself 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 dressed by others, but also Wine, Bread, Salt, Oil, Milk, and all other ordinary Aliments were of no use to him. He lived only upon Fruit which he gathered with his own Hands in his Garden, or Pulse and Roots which he had saved. Now his Drink was nothing but Water, which he drew himself out of a Fountain, which was enclosed within his Palace, and of which he always kept the Key. Although he seemed to confide very much in Astarbe, yet he used all possible Precautions against her; he always caused her to taste of every thing that was served at his Table, that he might not be poisoned 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 herself, and the Confident of her Amours, furnished her with: After that she poisoned the King with great Assurance 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 Assassinated, was presently alarmed and ran to that Door to see whether it was fast enough: The old Woman retired, the King remained troubled and speechless, and not knowing what to think of the Noise he had heard, yet he durst not open the Door to be informed. Astarbe cheered him up, and with fond Caresses persuaded him to Eat: Now, whilst the King was gone to the Door, she had Poisoned his Golden-Cup, and so when he bid her Drink First, she obeyed without any Fear, trusting to the Antidote. Pygmalion 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 herself in a most hideous manner; she clasped and hugged the dying King in her Arms, and bathed him with a flood of Tears; for this cunning Woman had always Tears at Command. At last, when she perceived 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 having put on horrid Cruelty, rushed upon him with Fury, and stifled him. Afterwards she plucked the Royal Signet off his Finger, took the Diadem off his Head, and called 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 proclaimed 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. Besides, they wanted Courage and Resoultion; they feared the Haughtiness, Dissimulation and Cruelty of that impious Woman, so that all wished her Death to secure their own Lives. In the mean time, a dreadful Tumult fills the whole Palace; The King is Dead, the King is Dead, is the general Cry: Some are frighted; others run to their Arms; all seem to be in Pain about the Consequence 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 Poisoned but not one is found that is concerned at it. His Death is at once the Deliverance and the general Comfort of the People. Narbal deeply affected with so terrible an Accident, deplored, like a good Man, the Misfortunes of Pygmalion, who had betrayed himself by committing his Safety to the impious Astarbe; and had chosen to be a dreadful and fierce Tyrant, rather than the Father of his People, which is a Duty incumbent on a King. He therefore consulted the good of the State, and hastened to assemble all good and public-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 assured Astarbe that he was Dead, did it only upon a mere Conjecture: But by the Favour of the Night, he saved himself by Swimming; and some Cretan Fishermen moved with Compassion received him into their Bark. He durst not return into his Father's Kingdom, suspecting, with Reason, that his Shipwreck was contrived by his Enemies; and fearing no less the cruel Jealousy of Pygmalion, than the Stratagems of Astarbe, He remained a long while wand'ring and unknown on the Sea-Coast of Syria, where the Cretan Fishermen had jest him: And to get a Livelihood he was reduced 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, though ill used by the Father, had nevertheless 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 wanting in his Duty to his Father, and upon that Score he persuaded him to bear patiently with his hard Fortune. 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 Pygmalion 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 Pigmalion's Suspicions and Cruelty; but as soon as that wretched Prince had made an end suitable to what his Crimes deserved, Narbal sent the golden Ring to Baleazar with all speed. Upon the Receipt of it, Baleazar came away immediately, and arrived before the Gates of Tyre, when all the City was in an Uproar about Pigmalion's Successor. Baleazar was soon acknowledged by the chief Citizens of Tyre, and by the whole People. He was beloved not upon the account of the late King his Father, who had the universal Hatred, but because of his Gentleness and Moderation. His very Misfortunes served, 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 caused him to be proclaimed such by their Heralds; the People answered them with repeated Acclamations, which reached the Ears of Astarbe, even into the remotest part of the Palace, where she was locked in with her base and infamous Joazar. All the wicked Men whom she had made use of during Pigmalion's Life, had already forsaken her; for the Wicked do naturally hate and fear the Wicked, and never wish to see them in Authority, because they know how much they would abuse their Power, 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 Indulgence and Moderation. Astarbe had no Body left about her but the most notorious Accomplices of her enormous Crimes, who were continually in fearful Expectation of their deserved Punishment. The Gates of the Palace being broke open, those profligate Wretches durst not make a long Resistance, and only endeavoured 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 secured, and 'twas with much ado that Narbal kept her from being torn in pieces by the enraged Multitude, who began already to drag her along in the Mire. In this Extremity she desired 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 displayed such soft and gentle Modesty as would have melted the fiercest Anger. She flattered Baleazar with the nicest and most insinuating Commendations; she represented to him how much Pigmalian loved her; she conjured him by his Fathre's Ashes to take Pity on her; she invoked the Gods, as if she had a sincere Adoration for them; she shed Floods of bitter Tears; she grasped the Knees of the new King, and used all her Artifice to render his best affected Servants both suspected and odious to him. She accused Narbal of being entered into a Conspiracy against Pygmalion, and endeavouring to withdraw the People from their Obedience to Baleazar, in order to make himself King; she added, that he designed 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 Woman; he interrupted her, and called 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 poisoned and stifled Pygmalion; and the whole Series of her Life appeared to be a continual Course of monstrous Villainy. 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 lingering Fire; but when she saw she had no manner of Hopes left, she became fierce and mad like a Fury, and swallowed down a Poison which she used to carry about her with design to make away with herself, in case they would put her to lingering Torments. Those who guarded her, took notice that she was in a violent Pain, and offered to give her ease; but she would never answer their Questions; only by Signs she let them understand that she would receive no Relief. They mentioned to her the just and avenging Gods whom she had angered; but instead of showing any Trouble or Sorrow that might atone for her Crimes, she looked upon Heaven with Pride and Contempt, as it were to insult the Almighty Powers. An impious Rage overspread 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 defaced; her faint, hollow Eyes rolled in their Orbits with wild, staring Looks; a convulsive Motion shook her Lips, and kept her Mouth open in a hideous manner; all her Face shriveled and wrinkled, yielded a ghastly prospect by its continual Distortions; a dead Coldness and Paleness had seized all her Limbs; sometimes she seemed to gather fresh Spirits, and come to herself again; but 'twas only a faint struggle of Nature, which spent itself into hideous Howl; at last she expired, leaving all the Spectators full of Horror and Fear. Without doubt her impious 
* Ghost.  Manes went down into those Places of Sorrow, where the cruel Danaid's do eternally draw Water with Vessels full of Holes, where Ixion continually 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 Vulture preying upon his growing Liver. Baleazar being delivered of that Monster, returned the God's Thanks by innumerable Sacrifices. His Conduct at the beginning of his Reign was quite different from Pigmalion's; he applies himself to the promoting of Trade, which languished and decayed more and more every day; he consults with Narbal about the most important Affairs, and yet he is not governed 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 beloved by his People, and being Master of their Hearts he enjoys more Riches than ever his Father heaped up with his cruel and insatiable Avarice; for there is never a Family but what would part with all they have, if he happened to be reduced to a pressing Necessity. Thus what he suffers them to enjoy is more at his command, than if he should forcibly take it from them. He needs not use any Precaution, or be solicitous 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 burdening his People, 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 refractory nor insolent; for they are Laborious, addicted to Trade, and steadfast in the keeping of their ancient Laws pure and entire. Phenicia has now recovered 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! Telemachus, 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 fortunate in doing, what he would have done himself, and going to the Isle of Ithaca, and there place on the Thorn the Son of Ulysses, that he may Reign there as wisely as Baleazar Reigns at Tyre?  
Adoam having thus spoken, Telemachus highly pleased with his Story, and much more with the Marks of Friendship he received from him, embraced him with great Tenderness and Affection; and their repeated Expressions of mutual Kindness being over, Adoam asked him what extraordinary Adventure had led him into the Island of Calypso? Telemachus, in his turn, gave him the Story of his departure from Tyre, and his going over to the Isle of Cyprus: He related to him, his meeting again with Mentor; Their Voyage into Crete; The public Games for the Election of a new King after Idomeneus' Flight; Venus' Anger; Their Shipwreck; The kind and joyful Welcome Calypso had made them; The Jealousy 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 Adventures, Adoam caused a magnificent Entertainment to be served up; and the better to express his excessive Joy, he procured all the Pleasures that could be had whilst they were at Table; during which time they were attended by young Phenician Boys clad in white; they burned the most exquisite Frankincense of Arabia; all the Rowers Seats were filled with Musicians 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 Tritons, the Nereids, all the Deities who obey the Command of Neptune, and the Sea-Monsters themselves forsook their watery deep Grottoes, and came in Shoals round the Ship, charmed by this Divine Melody. A Company of young Phoenicians, of an excellent Beauty, and clad in fine Lawn, as white as the driven Snow, danced for a long time several Dances of their own Country; afterwards they danced after the AEgyptain manner; and, last of all, after the Grecian. Now and then the loud Trumpets made the Waves resound with their Clangors as far as the distant Shore. The dead of silent Night, the stillness of the Sea, the trembling Light of the Moon which played on the surface of the Water, and the Azure Blue of the Skies, studded with bright twinkling Stars, served to heighten the Nobleness and Majesty of the Show. Telemachus being of a quick and sprightly Temper, easily affected with the Impressions of sensual Objects, relished all those Pleasures with delight; but he durst not indulge himself too far in the enjoying of them, since he had experienced to his Grief and Shame in the Isle of Calypso, how ready Youth is to be inflamed. He was shy and afraid, even of the most innocent Pleasures, and suspected every Thing. He looked upon 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 pleased to see him in that Perplexity, but made as if he did not take notice of it; at last moved with Telemachus' Moderation, 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 moderate Pleasures that will leave you the use of your Reason, and can never turn you into a furious Brute; 'tis now convenient you should refresh yourself after all your Troubles and Fatigue; relish with a grateful Complaisance to Adoam, all those Enjoyments he offers you; be merry, Telemachus, be merry and rejoice; 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 serious Affairs; she prepares us for Pleasure by Labour, and refreshes the Hardships of Labour by Pleasure; Wisdom itself is not ashamed to be gay and sprightly upon occasion. Having spoke these words, Mentor took up a Harp and touched it with such exquisite Art, that Architoas stung with Jealousy, let his drop from his Hands, his Eyes were flaming with spite, his troubled Face turned pale, then blushed, and then turned pale again; and every Body would have taken notice of his Pain and Confusion, but that at the same moment Mentor's Harp had ravished into Ecstasy the Soul of all the Assistants. 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 used it with such Art, that he humoured to admiration every thing he Sung. He at first rehearsed the Praises of mighty Jove, the Father and King both of Gods and Men, who with a Nod shakes the whole Universe: Afterwards he represented Minerva coming out of his Head, that is, Wisdom, which that supreme God creates within himself, and which issues from him to instruct those Men who are willing to be taught. Mentor sung all those Truths in such divine 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 piercing as his Thunder. Next to that, he sung the Misfortune of young Narcissus, whose being fond 〈◊〉 with his own Beauty, which he was continually viewing in a Fountain, consumed himself with Grief, and was changed 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 Phoenicians looked upon one another full of Wonder and Amazement: One said, this is Orpheus, for thus with his Harp he used 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 Danaid's; and moved the inexorable Pluto, to let the fair Eurydice go out of Hell. Another cried: No, 'tis Linus the Son of Apollo; to whom some body answered, You are mistaken: this must be Apollo himself. Telemachus' Surprise was little less than that of the rest, for he never knew before that Mentor could play on the Harp with so much Mastery. Architoas, who by this time had concealed his Jealousy, began to give Mentor those Commendations he deserved; but he could not praise him without blushing, neither was he able to make an end of his Discourse. Mentor, who saw what Trouble he was in, began to interrupt him, and endeavoured to comfort him by commending his Music. However, his Praises did not comfort Architoas, for he was sensible that Mentor surpassed 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 Betica, since we came away from Egypt; 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 extreme glad, replied Adoam, to give you Description of that famous Country, which deserves your Curiosity, 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 tempered and ever-serene Sky: The Country 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 through its Banks, divided heretofore the Land of Tarsis from Great Africa. This Country seems to have preserved the Delights of the Golden Age; here Winters are Lukewarm, and the fierce Northern Winds never rage in it; the scorching Heat of the Summer is ever allayed by refreshing Zephyr's, which fan the sweltry Air towards Noon; so that the whole Year is but a happy Hymen betwixt Spring and Autumn, which seem ever to go Hand in Hand. The Land, both in the Valleys and the Plains, yields every Year a double Harvest; the Hills are overspread 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 Country; but its rude Inhabitants, contented and happy with their Plainness, disdain to count Gold or Silver among their Riches, and only value what is really necessary to answer the Wants of Humane Nature. When we first began to Trade with that Nation, we found Gold and Silver employed among them about the same uses as Iron; as for example, for Ploughshares, etc. As they had no outward Trade, so they wanted no Coin; most of them are either Shepherds or Husbandmen; 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 skilled in those Arts which are serviceable 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 easy 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 clothes, keep the Houses in order, and sweet and clean to admiration, and make Garments for all the Family; 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 sowed; and which, for Modesty's sake, every one laps about his Body. in long folds, and in what form he pleases. The Men, besides Husbandry, and the tending of the Herds and Flocks, have no other Arts to exercise but the Working and Fashioning 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 Shelner against the Injuries of the Air. As for all other Arts, so much 〈◊〉 among the Grecians, the AEgyptains and other civilised Nations, they abhor and detest them as the Inventions of Pride and Effeminacy. When they hear of Nations that have the skill of raising magnificent Buildings; and can make Gold and Silver, household Goods, Stuffs adorned with Embroidery and precious Stones, exquisite Perfumes, delicious and dainty Dishes of Meat, and Instruments of Music, whose Harmony enchants the Soul, they answer in these words; Those Nations are unhappy, thus to have bestowed so much Time, Labour, and Industry upon the corrupting of themselves; those Superfluities soften, intoxicate and torment the Possessors of them, and tempt those that are deprived 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 another, devoured by shameful and black Envy, ever disquieted and tortured by Ambition, Fears and Avarice, and incapable of enjoying plain, unmixed and solid Pleasures, since they are Slaves to so many shame 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 confessed that theirs has something great in their admirable Plainness; they live all together without dividing the Land; every Family is governed by its Chief, who is real King of it; the Father of the Family has the power to punish any of his Children of grandchildren, that commits a Fault, but before he inflicts the Punishment, he advises with the rest of the Family: 'Tis rare indeed that there is any Punishment; for the Innocence of Manners, Truth, Honesty, Integrity, Obedience and Abhorrence of Vice dwell in this happy Place, and it seems as if Astrea, who is said to have retired into Heaven, lies yet concealed here among these People: There is no need of Judges amongst them, for their own Consciences 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 Sober and so Moderate have no occasion to divide 'em; each moving fancily in this happy Country, carry their Tents from one Place to another, when they have eaten up the Pasturage, and consumed the Fruits of that part whence they come, so that it is not their Interest to maintain one against tother; and if they all love one another with a brotherly Love, which nothing can interrupt, 'tis the contempt of vain Riches and of deceitful Pleasures 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 extraordinary Wisdom of some young Men makes, who being accomplished in all Virtue, equal the old Men: The cruel Outcries of Fraud, Violence, Perjury, Lawsuits and Wars are never heard in this Country cherished by the Gods: No human Blood ever stained this Land, no, not so much as the Blood of innocent Lambs: When they hear of bloody Battles, devouring Conquests, of the overthrow of States, which are frequent in all other Nations, they are Amazed. What, say they, are not Men subject enough to Mortality, without percipitating 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 could these People of Betica imagine why those Conquerors, who subjugate great Empires, should be so much admired: 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 governed 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 himself most Miserable, to gain a false Honour for kiiping them in Slavery. A Conqueror is a Man whom the Gods, irritated against Mankind, have sent upon the Earth in their Wrath, to lay Kingdoms waste, spread Terrors, Misery and Despair 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? Does he think that he is not worthy of Praise unless he becomes Violent, Unjust, Insulting, an Usurper and Tyrannic over all his Neighbours? War should 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 overflowing Rivers, which appear Majestic, but destroy those fertile Countries which they should only refresh.  
After Adoam had given this Description of Betica, Telemachus, charmed with his Relation, asked him several particular Questions: Do these People, said he, drink Wine? They are so far from Drinking it, replied Adoam, that they never cared to make any; not that they want Grapes, since no Country whatever produces more delicious; but they are satisfied with eating Grapes as they do other Fruits; for they dread Wine as the Corrupter of Mankind: 'Tis a kind of Poison (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 Manners. Then, said Telemachus, I would fain know what Laws are observed in Marriages in this Nation. 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 Honour of the Wives depends in other Countries on their Fidelity to their Husbands: Never were People so Honest, and so jealous of their Chastity; 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 domestic Affairs together, the Husband manages all the Concerns abroad, the Wife keeps close to her Business at home; she Comforts her Husband, and seems to be made for nothing else but to please him; she gains his Confidence, and contributes less by her Beauty than her Virtue to heighten the Charms of their Society, which lasts as long as they live: The Sobriety, Temperance, 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 would know now, said Telemachus, how they do to avoid going to War with other People their Neighbours. Nature, continued Adoam, has separated 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 entrusted the Lands and Towns, for which they disputed, with them. As this wise Nation has never committed any Violence, no Body distrusts 'em. They Laugh when they hear of Kings who can't govern the Frontiers of their Estates among themselves. Is it to be feared, say they, that Men should want Lands? There will ever be more than they can cultivate; as long there remains free Lands, we would not so much as defend our own against our Neighbours, who would take 'em from us; nor Envy, nor Pride, nor Falsehood, 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 never molest 'em: These People would sooner forsake their Country, or would deliver themselves up to Death, than submit themselves to Slavery: Thus they are as difficult to be Enslaved, 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 Account of the menner of Traffic between the Phaenicians and those of Betica: These People, Pursued he, were amazed when they saw strange Men come from so far on the Waves of the Sea: They received us very kindly, and gave us part of all that they had, without taking any payment for it; they offered us all that was left of their Wool, 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 liberally to Strangers. As for their Mines, it was no manner of trouble at all to have parted with 'em to us, they made no advantage of 'em; they fancied Men were not overwise to search with so much Pains in the Bowels of the Earth, what could not make 'em happy, nor satisfy true Necessity. Do not dig, said they to us, so deep into the Earth, content yourselves with Ploughing and Tilling it, it will afford you real Goods that will nourish 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 would often have taught 'em Navigation, and have carried the young Men of their Country into Phoenicia; but they would never consent that their Children should learn to Live after our manner. They would learn, said they to us, to have occasion for all those Things that are merely necessary to us; they would have 'em, and they would forsake Virtue to gain them; they would grow, like a Man who has good Legs, and who having lost the custom of Walking, brings himself at last to the sad necessity of being always carried 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 Shipwrecked, for seeking Death in the midst of Tempests to satiate their Avarice. Telemachus was ravished at Adoam's Discourese, he was highly pleased 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 Manners of those People whom we believe 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 entertained one another in this manner, negelcting Sleep, and not perceiving that it was already Midnight; a deceitful Deity, their Enemy, led 'em far wide of Ithaca, which their Pilot Achamas attempted to make in vain. Neptune, although a Friend to the Phaenicians, could no longer endure to think that Telemachus had escaped the Tempest that had thrown him on the Rocks of the Isle of Calypso. Venus, who was yet more enraged 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 could no longer stay in those Places where Telemachus had despised 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 moistened: The greatest Kingdoms 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 Grandeur, Glory and Power, seem to the highest Powers nothing but Misery and Folly. 'Tis in this Habitation so much elevated above the Earth, that Jupiter has fixed his immovable 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 Tranquillity and Joy over all the Universe: On the contrary, when he shakes his awful Head, he moves both Heaven and Earth: The Gods themselves dazzled with the Rays of the Glory that surround him, can't approach him without Trembling; all the celestial Deities were near him at that Moment. Venus' presented herself with all the Charms which wanton on her beautiful Bosom: Her loose Gown had more splendour than all the Colours that Iris adorns herself 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 Wether. Her Robe was tied with that famous Girdle on which the Graces are represented. The Goddess' Hair was negligently tied behind by a Locket of Gold. All the Gods were surprised at her Beauty, as if they had never seen her before; and their Eyes were dazzled like the Eyes of Mortals, when after a long Night, Phoebus returns to enlighten 'em with his Rays, they look one one another with Astonishment, and their Eyes returned and fixed always on Venus; but they perceived the Goddess' Eyes were bathed in Tears, and that a deep Sorrow sat on her Face: Mean while she advanced 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 looked on her with a great deal of complacency. and smiled kindly on her, and, rising, embraced her. My drar Daughter, said he, what grieves you? I can't see your Tears without concern; fear not to discover your Thoughts to me, you know my Tenderness and Indulgence. Venus' answered 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; Minerva is not satisfied even with over-throwing the lofty Town of Troy which I defended, and to be revenged on Paris who had preferred my Beauty to here's but she conducts the Son of Ulysses, that cruel Destroyer of Troy, over Land and Sea; Telemachus is still accompanied 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 disdained to burn Incense on my Altars, but he has expressed an abhorrence of the Feasts which are celebrated in honour of me; he has shut up his Heart against my Pleasures; in vain has Neptune raised the Winds and the Waves against him at my Request, to punish him. Telemachus cast by an horrible Shipwreck on the Isle of Calypso, triumphed over Love himself, whom I had sent into this Island to soften the Heart of this young Greek; neither the Youth nor the Charms of Calypso, and of her Nymphs, nor the flaming Shafts of Love could overcome the Artifices of Minerva, she has snatched him away from that Island: See how I am confounded, 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 Glory than ever young Man attained to: I am troubled that he has despised 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, exposed to all sorts of Miseries 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 many Gods under your Empire. Here, he smiled 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 dispersed an Odour of Ambrosia which perfumed all Olympus. The Goddess could not but be sensible of this Caress from the greatest of the Gods; in spite of her Tears and Grief, Joy was visible in all her Face; she let down her Veil to hide her Blushes, and the Confusion in which she found herself: The whole Assembly applauded what Jupiter had said; and, Venus, without losing one moment, hasted to find out Neptune, to consult with him the means of revenging herself on Telemachus. She repeated to Neptune what Jupiter had said to her: I knew long since, returned Neptune, the irreversible Decree 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 wretched, and retard his return to Ithaca; I canted yield that the Phenician Vessel on which he is Aboard should be lost; for I love the Phoenicians, 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 honour me with continual Sacrifices on my Altars; they are Just, Wise, and Laborious in their Traffic; they disperse Profit and Plenty over all the Earth: No, Goddess, I can't allow that one of their Vessels should be wrecked; but I will make the Pllot lose his Course, and steer wide of Ithaca, whither he is bound. Contented with this Promise, Venus forced a malicious Smile, and alighted from her flying Chariot on the flowery Meadows of Idalia, where the Graces, with Sports and Laughters, expressed their Joy to see her again, dancing about her, on the Flowers that perfume this charming Abode: And Neptune immediately dispatched a deceitful Deity, like the God of Dreams, save only that Dreams deceive but during the time of sleep, whereas this Deity enchants men's Senses when they are awake. This mischievous Deity, attended by a vast multitude of winged Lies and Falsities, which fluttered about him, came to pour a subtle and enchanting Liquor on the Eyes of the Pilot. 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 discovered near enough to him; but in this very moment the Pilot's Eyes could discern nothing truly as it was; another Sky presented itself to him, the Stars seemed as if they had changed their Course, and were returning back again to their Spheres: All the Firmament seemed to move by new Laws; the very Earth itself was altered, 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 advanced towards this deceitful Representation of the Port of the Island, the more this false Representation deluded him; nor could he imagine what to make of this Retreat: Sometimes he thought he already heard the noise that is usually made in a Port, and was straight preparing according to the Orders he had received to go a Shore on a little Island near the great one, to destroy the Lovers of Penelope, who had conspired to hinder the return of this young Prince Telemachus: Sometimes he feared the Shelves which are so numerous on the Shores of that part of the Sea, and he fancied he heard the dreadful Roaring of the Waves which break themselves against these Shelves: Then all on a sudden, he observed that the Land appeared yet more distant; the Mountains seemed no otherwise to him, so far off, than as so many little Clouds which sometimes darken the Horizon, while yet the Sun is set. Thus was Achamas amazed, and the Impression of this deceitful Deity that had charmed his Eyes, made him sensible that he was possessed with something more than ordinary, which till then he had not perceived; at the same time 〈◊〉 he could not believe that he was awake, but that he was deluded only 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 obeyed him with such a 〈◊〉 Gale, that the Ship soon 〈◊〉 at the Port that Neptune had designed it.  
Aurora had already proclaimed 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 cried out, I am out of doubt, for we are just upon the Island of Ithaca: Cheer up, Telemachus! Now is the time that you shall see Penelope again, and (perhaps) find Ulysses reseated on his Throne. Telemachus, who was till then, fast locked 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, steadfastly views the Neighbouring Shoar, and sighed when he could not perceive his own Country's Shoar. Alas, said he, where are we! Achamas, you are deceived; you are but ill acquainted with these Coasts so far distant from your own Country. No, no, replied Achamas, I can't be deceived 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 perceive the Billows that break themselves 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! replied Telemachus, I see on the contrary a remote 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? Whilst he was speaking these words, all on a sudden the Eyes of Achamas were cleared; the Charm was ended, and he saw and knew the Shoar, perfectly what it was, and acknowledged his Error.  
I am confident, Oh Telemachus! cried he, that some envious Deity has bewitched my Eyes: I thought I saw Ithaca; the true Prospect of it presented itself entirely to my view; but at that same moment it vanished 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 finished; and I see a Fort, which is not altogether fortified. Whilst Achamas was remarking the several Works newly carried on this growing City, and Telemachus was deploring his Unhappiness, the Wind that Neptune had raised carried 'em with full Sail into a safe Road, and just by the Port.  
Mentor, who was neither ignorant of Neptune's Revenge, nor the cruel Artifice of Venus, could 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 destroy you; and only tries you to show 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 tyre that cruel Fortune which takes delight to persecute you. I am less afraid, for your sake, of the rigorous Treatment of Neptune, than I feared the flattering Caresses of that Goddess which detained 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 entered the Port of Salante, where the Phenician Vessel was received without any difficulty; because the Phoenicians have Peace and Commerce with the whole Universe. Telemachus, with admiration, beheld this growing City, as it were a young Plant, which having been nourished 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 odoriferous Flowers with a thousand new Colours; every moment it presents itself to the Sight, a new Lustre is found on it; so flourished Idomeneus' new City on the Sea's side: Each day, each hour it grows in magnificence; and showed to Strangers afar off at Sea, new Ornaments of Architecture which reached 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 encouraged 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, ere the Cretans gave Telemachus and Mentor all the Tokens of a sincere Friendship: They posted away to give Idomeneus notice of the Arrival of the Son of Ulysses. The Son of Ulysses! cried he, of Ulysses? The dear Friend of that wise and great Hero; by whom, at last, we have levelled the lofty Walls of proud Troy even to the Ground! Bring him to me, that I may show him how much I loved his Father. As soon as Telemachus was presented to him, said he to him, with a sweet and smiling Countenance, Tho' no body should have told me who you are, I am certain I should have known you; you are Ulysses himself; see his very Eyes full of Fire, his steady Aspect! See besides, his Air so cold and reserved, which covered so much Vivacity and so many Graces. Look! Here's his obliging Smile too; his negligent Demean, his soft Speech, plain and insinuating, which persuaded 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 misfortune of being driven from his Country, and I that of finding mine, filled with Horrors by the Hatred of the immortal Gods against me. Whilst Idomeneus spoke those words he looked fixedly upon Mentor, as being no Stranger to his Face; tho' at the same time he was much perplexed about his Name. In the mean time Telemachus answered 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 Favours to me. Your Sorrow for the loss of Ulysses, teaches me how deeply I ought to be affected by my misfortune in not finding my dear Father; 'tis now a tedious while since I have been in search of him through all the known Seas: The angry Gods won't suffer me to hope, either to see him again, or to return to Ithaca, where Penelope is daily tortured with a fruitless Desire of being freed from her troublesome Lovers.  
I expected to have found you in the Isle of Crete; I there learned your cruel Fate, but little thought of ever touching the Coast of Hesperia, where you have founded a new Kingdom: But Fortune, who is pleased 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 exposed me to, this I could bear with a contented Mind. For, tho' she drives me away from my Native Country, yet she brings me acquainted 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 accompanies you, for methinks I have seen him before: 'Tis Mentor, replied Telemachus; Mentor, Ulysses' 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 another 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 transported 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 Body straight and vigorous, only your Hair is grown somewhat Hoary. Great King, answered Mentor, were I a Flatterer, I would tell you likewise that you still preserve that youthful Liveliness which smiled in your Face at the Siege of Troy. But I had rather incur your Displeasure, than speak against Truth; besides, 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 altered, that I could scarce have known you again. I plainly see the cause of it, which is your long Misfortunes and Sufferings; but the Wisdom you have acquired makes you sufficient amends for what you have suffered; and a Man ought to be easy and unconcerned at the Wrinkles of his Face, whilst his Soul is inur'd to the Practice 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 Enjoyments 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 exposed 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 charmed with Mentor's Discourse, had been longer attentive to him, had they not come to remind him of a Sacrifice that he was to make to Jupiter: Telemachus and Mentor followed him surrounded by a great multitude of People, who with great earnestness and Curiosity gazed on these two Strangers: They said one to another, these two Men are very different; the young one has an Air admirable and lovely, beyond Expression; all the Charms of Youth and Beauty are every where dispersed both over his whole Body; but this Beauty has nothing Languid nor Effeminate; with this tender Flower of Youth, he appears vigorous, strong and inur'd to Labour: But this other, though far older, yet has lost nothing of his Strength; and though his Mien is not so majestical, and his Countenance less pleasant, yet on a nearer view, in his plainness may be seen the Marks of Wisdom and Virtue, with a surprising Gravity: When the Gods descended to converse with Mortals on the Earth, undoubtedly they took Figures like these two strange Travellers.  
By this time, they were arrived at the Temple of Jupiter, whom Idomeneus, who was the Offspring, had adorned with a great deal of Magnificence: He was environed with a double Row of Pillars of Marble like Jasper; the Chapiters' were of Silver; the Temple was all lined with Marble, with Bas-reliefs, which represented Jupiter transformed into a Bull, the Rape of Europa, and his Passage over the Sea into Crete; they seemed to reverence Jupiter, though he was in a strange Form: Then the Wisdom and Birth of Minos was to be seen; who there appeared in the height of old Age, dispensing Laws to his whole Island, which might make it for ever flourishing. There also Telemachus observed, the principal Adventures at the Siege of Troy, where Idomeneus had justly acquired the Glory of a great General. In the Representations of these Combats 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 famous Actions Telemachus knew him, of which he had so often heard, and which Nestor himself had recounted to him. Here Tears presently gushed from his Eyes, he changed Colour, and Grief appeared all over his Face: Idomeneus perceived it, though he turned aside to conceal his Trouble. Don't be ashamed, said Idomeneus to him, to let us see how much you are concerned at the Glory and Misfortunes of your Father. In the mean while the People came in whole Crowds under the vast Porticoes made through the double row of Columns which surrounded the Temple. There were two Companies of young Boys and Girls, who sung Verses in Praise of that God who disperses the Thunder. These Children who were all chosen out of the most Beautiful, had their long Hair hanging loose on their Shoulders; their Heads were Crowned with Roses and Perfumes, and were all Clothed in White. Idomeneus offered an Hundred Bulls to beg a favourable Success in a War, which he had undertaken against his Neighbours: The Blood of the Victims reaked 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, covered his Head with one end of his purple Robe; then he consulted the Entrails of the Victims, which were yet panting, after which, mounting the sacred Tripos; O ye Gods! (cried he) what are then these Strangers, whom you have sent into these Parts? Without these, the War lately designed would be dreadful; and Salante would be buried in Ruin, 'ere it were raised on its Foundations. I see a young Hero, whom Wisdom still conducts— No Mortal dare say more.— Here his Looks were wild, and his Eyes sparkled; and he seemed to gaze on other Objects than those that were before him: His Face was all afire: He raged, and grew Distracted; his Hair stood an end, he foamed at Mouth, and his lifted up Arms were immovable: His Voice was stronger than any humane Voice whatever; he was out o' Breath, and could not contain the Deity which transported him. O happy Idomeneus, cried he again, what do I see! What Misfortunes avoided! What soft Peace at Home! But what bloody Wars Abroad! What Victories! O Telemachus! Thy Labours exceed thy Father's. The haughty and fierce Enemy grovels in the Dust, under thy Sword; the brazen Gates and inaccessible Ramparts fall at thy Feet— O Great Goddess! That his Father— O Brave Youth, in time thou shalt see— Here his Speech failed him, and that Word closed his Mouth, and he continued in Spite of his Endeavours, in an amazing Silence. All the People were congealed with Fear: Idomeneus, all trembling, durst not bid him make an end. Telemachus himself astonished, could hardly understand what he had heard; much ado he had to believe that so great Predictions. were made of him; Mentor alone was unastonished at the divine Spirit. 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 recovered out of his Amazement, in vain attempted to Speak; his Tongue remained immovable. Says Telemachus to Mentor; So much promised 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? Alas! Why did he not make an end of his Prophecy? He left me more perplexed than I was before: Oh Ulysses! Oh my Father! Is it then possible I shall see you again! But I Flatter myself— Oh! cruel Oracle, thou takest Delight in Sporting with an unfortunate Man; one Word more, and I had reached the top of Happiness.  
Says Mentor to him, Receive with Reverence what the Gods are pleased to reveal, and attempt not to discover what they intent to keep secret: A rash Curiosity deserves to be confounded: 'Tis out of a supreme 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 advantageous to be Ignorant of what lies not in our Power, but entirely depends on Heaven's irreversible Decrees. Telemachus, touched with these Words, contained himself, though not without Reluctancy. As for Idomeneus, having recovered his surprise, 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 acquainted with the Art of Governing, when I returned to Crete, after the Siege of Troy. You know, dear Friends, what Misfortunes hindered me from reigning over that great Island, since you assure me you were there after I left it. Yet I am too happy if the cruelest strokes of Fortune can serve to teach me to be Master of my Passions: I crossed the Seas like a Fugitive, whom the avenging Gods and Men pursue: All my past Honours and Glory served only to make my Fall the more ingnominious and insupportable: I sought a shelter for my household-gods on this desert Coast, where I found nothing but wild, uncultivated Lands, overrun with Thorns and Briars, covered with Trees as old as the Earth itself; and huge steep Rocks inaccessible to all but fierce Beasts, which harboured under them. Yet such was the Extremity to which I was reduced, 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. Alas! said I to myself, what a Change is here! What a dreadful Example am I to Kings! What wholesome 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 Enemies, and beloved by my Subjects; I Commanded over a powerful and warlike Nation; Fame had spread my Renown as far as the remotest Countries; I reigned in a fruitful and delightful Island; an hundred Cities paid me a yearly Tribute out of their Riches; my People acknowledged me to be the Offspring of great Jupiter, and as I was born in their Country, they loved me as the Grandson 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 alas! my own Pride, and the Flattery of others, to which I listened but too much, have overturned my Throne, and in the like manner will all King's fall, who will give up themselves to their own Desires, and the deceitful Counsels of their Flatterers. In the Daytime I endeavoured to put on a Countenance both smiling and full of Assurance, in order to keep up the Courage of those who had followed me: Let us build, said I to them, a new City 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 rearing up pretty near us, and 'tis Phalantus, with his Lacedæmonians, who possesses that new Kingdom; Philoctctes 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? Whilst with these and the like words, I endeavoured to alleviate the Troubles of my Companions, I concealed a mortal Grief in the bottom of my Heart; I felt some Comfort at the withdrawing of the day, when in the gloomy Shade of silent Night, I was at liberty to lament my wretched Fate; my Eyes became two Streams of continual Tears, and sweet Sleep had quite deserted my Bed: The next day I resumed my Toils with unwearied eagerness, and that's the Reason, Oh! Mentor, you found me so much altered by Age. Idomeneus having thus given Telemachus and Mentor the Relation of all his Misfortunes, he desired their Assistance in the War wherein he was engaged; I will, said he, take care that you are safely conducted to Ithaca, as soon as the War is over; in the mean time I will send out Ships to the most distant Shores 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 into your own Country in the best Ships that ever were built in the Isle of Crete; they are made of Trees felled on Mount Ida, where great Jove was born; that sacred Wood can never perish in the Waves; the Winds and Rocks both fear and reverence it; and even Neptune, tho' never so angry, dares not to raise his fierce Billows against it: Therefore be assured 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 easy; send away the Phenician Vessel that brought you hither, and think now on nothing 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 confined him within the gloomy Kingdom of Pluto, yet all Greece shall have the Pleasure to find him again in you.  
At these words Telemachus interrupting 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 show a greater Ardour and Resolution, and be more favoured by the Gods, when we fight for one of those Grecian Heroes, who overthrew Troy, the City of Priamus?  
Mentor, looking upon Telemachus with a serence and composed Countenance, and perceiving that he burned with a noble and eager Desire of Fight, spoke thus to him: I am very glad, Oh! Son of Ulysses, to find in you so generous and commendable a Passion for Glory; but remember that the great Renown your Father got amongst the Grecians at the Siege of Troy, was only by approving himself, the wisest and most moderate of them. Altho' the fierce Achilles was both invincible and invulnerable, altho' he carried Terror and Destruction wherever he fought, yet Achilles could not make himself Master of Troy; he fell before the Walls of that famous City, which triumphed 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 owing. As much as Minerva is above Mars, by so much a discreet and provident 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 methinks, 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 overcome your Enemies. Idomeneus replied: At our first landing on this Coast, we found in it a savage People who lived in the Woods, and fed upon what they killed in Hunting, 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 abandoned 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 wand'ring and weaker than we, so that nothing could hinder us from destroying you, and concealing even from your Companions the knowledge of your Misfortunes; 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 received this Lesson of Generosity and Moderation. Those of our Men, who were thus dismissed by the Barbarians, returned to the Camp, and related what had happened to them; our Soldiers were moved at it, and ashamed 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 themselves with all manner of Arms: 'Twas not long before they met with the Savages, and fell upon them; the Fight was cruel and obstinate; the Darts flew on both sides as thick as Hail in a Storm. The Savages were at last forced 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 wisest old Men who came to sue for Peace, and brought Presents to me, which consisted in Skins of wild Beasts they had killed in Hunting, and several sorts of Fruit which the Country yields; having delivered their Presents, they addressed themselves 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 choose either Peace or War: We confess we had rather Peace; and 'tis for that Reason we are not ashamed to yield to thee the pleasant Sea-Shore, where the Sun cheers 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 retired to those high Mountains ever covered 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 Brutality 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 Ambitious 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 Politeness and Civility which they value themselves upon, inspire them with nothing but this detestable Injustice, we think ourselves too happy in being deprived of those Advantages; we will pride in being Barbarians, as long as we are just, human, faithful, disinterested, contented 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 Relations, a constant Affection to our Friends, Faithfulness and Honesty with every Body, Moderation in Prosperity, Constancy in adverse Fortune, a courageous 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 fixed on them; they had long Beards; short hoary Hair; thick Eyebrows; quick and lively Eyes; a resolute Look and Countenance; plain and ingenuous Manners: The Furs they wore for clothes being tied 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 inclined to Peace: We settled together by mutual Promise, several Conditions, invoking all the Gods to be Witnesses of our Treaty, and so I sent them back with Presents: But the Gods who drove me from the Kingdom of my Ancestors, were not yet weary of Persecuting me: Our Huntsmen, 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 returned from our Camp; they attacked 'em with great Fury, killed many of 'em, and pursued the rest into the Woods: Thus the War is kindled anew; for those Barbarians think they cannot be safe in trusting either to our Promises or Oaths; they call to their Assistance the Locrians, Apulians, Lucanians, Brutians, those of Crotona, Nevitta, and Brundisium. The Lucanians came with Chariots armed with sharp Sythes. The Apulians are every one of them covered with the Skin of some wild Beast which they have killed; they were in their Hands great wooden Clubs full of Knots, and tipped 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 covered with Skins. The Brutians are nimble-footed like Bucks or Stage; and when they run, one can scarce perceive that the tenderest Grass is foiled 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 People of Crotona are very skilful Archers; 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 steeped in the Juice of some venomous Herbs, which are said to come from the Banks of Avernus, and whose Poison is mortal. As for those of Nevitta, Messapia, and Brundisium, they are endued only with bodily Strength, 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 ShotStones; but they fight without order, or minding Ranks. This, Oh! Mentor, is what you desired 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, Telemachus being impatient to fight, thought there was no more to do than to take up Arms; but Mentor stopped him a second time, and spoke thus to Idomeneus: What's the reason that the Locrians, who are a People originally come from Greece, unite themselves with the Barbarians against the Grecians? How comes it to pass that so many Greek Colonies are in a flourishing Condition on this Coast of Tamea, without being engaged in the same Wars with you? You say, Oh! Idomeneus, the Gods are not yet weary of persecuting 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 yourself relate concerning the Honesty of those Barbarians, is enough to show that you might have lived in Peace with them; but Pride and Haughtiness kindle the most dengerous Wars: You might have given them Hostages, and taken some of theirs; and it would have been an easy 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 pacified them, by letting them know that they were attacked through ignorance of the Treaty that was concluded with them; you should have offered them all the Security they could possibly demand, and appoint rigorous Punishments for those among your Subjects, who should break the Alliance. But, pray, what happened since the beginning of this new War?  
I thought, answered Idomeneus, it would have been a base Submission in us to court those Barbarians, who gathered in haste all those amongst them who were able to bear Arms, and implored the Assistance of all the Neighbouring Nations, to whom they made us odious. Thereupon I thought it most advantageous for our Security, to make ourselves Masters of certain narrow Passages in the Mountains which the Enemy kept, which having effected without difficulty, we by that means put ourselves in a Condition of annoying and harasing those Barbarians. I have caused 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 into our Country; and at the same time, by the favour of these Towers we may make Incursions into their Country, and lay their chief Settlements waste whenever we please. Thus, with Forces much inferior, we are able to resist that innumerable 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 laying ourselves open to their Inroads, and they look upon them as Citadels we have raised to bring them into slavery. Mentor replied: Oh! Idomeneus, you show yourself to be a wise King, in that you are willing to hear undisguised 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 Misfortune. You were afraid of making 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 reared up those Towers for your Security only, and 'tis by those Towers you have brought yourself into an imminent Danger. The surest and firmest Bulwark of a State is Justice, Moderation, Honesty, Plaindealing, and the Assurance your Neighbours have that you will never encroach 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 experienced your Moderation, renders your State invincible, and deters those Neighbours from attacking it. Nay, suppose an unjust Neighbour should attack it, all the rest who are concerned in its Safety, take up Arms presently for its Defence: The Support of so many Nations, who might have found their true Interest in maintaining yours, would have made you much more powerful than those Towers, which render your Misfortunes almost past Remedy: Had you taken care at first to prevent the Jealousy and Suspicions of all your Neighbours, your new-built City would flourish in a happy Tranquillity, and you would have made yourself Umpire of Hesperia. But now let us consider which way for the future you can rectify your past Erros; you told me before that there are on this Coast several Greek Colonies; those People must needs be disposed 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 signalise yourself amongst the Grecian Princes, for the common Cause of all Greece. Why do you not endeavour to bring those Colonies over to your Party?  
They are all resolved to stand Neuter, replied Idomeneus; not but that they were somewhat inclined to assist me, but the great Noise this City made through all the Regions about us, deterred them from it. Those Grecians, as well as the rest, were afraid we had some design upon their Liberty; they thought that having subdued the barbarous Mountaineers, 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 Jealousy of others keeps us from having any Ally.  
Oh! strange Extremity! replied Mentor: Whilst you endeabour to appear powerful, you destroy your own Power; and whilst abroad you are the Object both of the Fear and Hatred of your Neighbours, you exhaust yourself at home by the vast Expenses you must needs be at to carry on the War. Oh! unhappy, doubly unhappy, Idomeneus, 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? However, trust to my Management, and only let me know which are those Greek Cities, that refuse to enter into your Alliance.  
The Chief of them, answered Idomeneus, is the City of Tarentum; 'tis now three Years since Phalantus laid the Foundation of it, having gathered in Cremona a vast Number of young Men, born of Women who had forgot their absent Husbands during the Siege of Troy. When the Men came home, their Wives endeavoured to pacify them, by disowning the Faults they had committed in their absence. These numerous Youths born out of Wedlock, knowing neither Father nor Mother, abandoned themselves to an unbounded Licentiousness; but the severity of the Laws having curbed 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 Laconians, who have made of Tarentum a second Lacedaemon. Onthe other side, Philocletes, who reaped so much Glory at the Siege of Troy, whither he carried Herculeses Arrows, has raised on this Neighbourhood the Walls of Petelia, a City which though less powerful than Tarentum, is yet more wisely governed. Lastly, we have near us the City of Metapontus, which the wise Nestor founded with his Pilians.  
What! replied Mentor, is Nestor in Hesperia, and could not you engage him in your Interest? Nestor who saw you so often fight against the Trojans, and who professed a Friendship for you? I lost that Friend, answered Idomeneus, by the Artifice of those People, who are barbarous only in Name; for they were so cunning, as to persuade him, that I designed to make myself master of all Hesperia. We will undeceive him, answered Mentor: Telemachus saw him at Pilos before he came to settle his Colony in this Country, and before we undertook our long Voyages in quest of Ulysses; undoubtedly he will still remember that great Hero, and the Marks of Tenderness and Affection he gave his Son Telemachus: But the chief Business is to remove his Distrust. Those Suspicions you created in the Minds of all your Neighbours, 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 embracing Mentor, felt a shivering mixed with Tenderness, and remained Speechless for a while. At last, with a broken Voice, he uttered 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 resolved either to die, or overcome all my Enemies, but it is reasonable to believe your wise Counsels, rather than my Passion. Oh! Telemachus, how happy you are in having a Guide, that will never suffer you to go astray! Mentor, you may do whatever you think fit; all the Wisdom of the Gods is in you; Minerva herself could not give more wholesome Advice: Go, promise, and give any thing that is in my Power; conclude a Treaty upon what Terms you please; Idomeneus will ratify all you do.  
Whilst they were thus discoursing together, there was heard on the sudden a confused Noise of Chariots, neighing of Horses, hideous Shrieks and Howl of Men, and loud Trumpets which filled the Air with martial Clangors: The general Cry is, The Enemy are come; they have gone a great way about to avoid the narrow Passages guarded by Towers; here they are, ready to besiege Salanta. The old Men and the Women are under a deep Consternation: Alas! said they, why did we forsake our dear Country, the fruitful Isle of Crete, and follow an unhappy Prince through so many Seas, to founda a City which is now going to be destroyed and devoured by Flames like Troy? They saw from the Top of their new-raised Walls, the Headpieces and Shields of the Enemy shine with so much brightness, that their Eyes were dazzled with it; they saw likewise the bristling Pikes which ccvered the Ground as thick as a plentiful Harvest which Ceres ripens in Sicily during the scorching heat of Summer, to recompense the Labour of the Husbandman. And now they perceived the Chariots armed with sharp Sythes, and easily discerned the several Nations that made up their Army. Mentor, the better to discover them, went up to the Top of a high Tower, whither Idomeneus and Telemachus soon followed him. He was hardly come there, when he espied Philoctetes on one side, and Nestor with his Son Pisistrates on the otehr; for Nestor was easily distinguished by his venerable old Age. What! cried Mentor, you thought, Oh! Idomeneus, that Philoctetes and Nestor would be contented to remain Neuter, but now you see they have taken up Arms against you; and if I am not mistaken, the other Troops which march in such good order, and with so fierce a Look, are a Body of Lacedæmonians 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, whilst Idomeneus, surprised with the noble Majesty which accompanies all he does, dares not so much as to ask him what he means to do. Mentor beckons with his hand, that no Body should follow him; then makes toward the Enemy, who wondered to see a single Man coming to them; shows them afar off an Olive Branch, as a sign of Peace; and being come so near them, that he might convenienly be heard, he required them to assemble all the Captains; who being met in an instant, he thus spoke to 'em.  
Oh! generous Men, assembled out of so many Nations which flourish in rich Hesperia: I know 'tis the common Interest of your Liberty that summoned you together to this Place; I do highly commend your Zeal, but suffer me to tell you an easy way to preserve the Liberty and Honour of all your several Nations without spilling human Blood. Oh! Nestor, Oh! wise Nestor, whom I perceive in this Assembly! You are not ignorant how fatal War is even to those who undertake it with Justice, and under the Protection of the Gods; War is the greatest Evil with which the Gods afflict Mankind; you can never forget how much the Greeks have suffered during ten Years before unhappy Troy. How many Divisions have they seen among their Chiefs? What Caprices of Fortune have they been exposed to? How many of them have fallen by Hector's Sword? What a desolation has been occasioned in the most powerful and flourishing Cities upon account of the War, by the long absence of their Kings? At their return 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 reduced to Ashes; but it were better for the Grecians, if she was still in her full Glory, and if base Paris should still gratify his infamous Love with Helena. Oh! Philoctetes, you, who have been so long unhappy, and abandoned 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 occasioned 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.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. III.  
WHen Mentor had thus spoken he made up towards the Pilians, and Nestor (who by that time begun to know who he was) advanced to meet and salute him. Oh! Mentor, said he to him, 'tis now a long time since I first saw you in Phocis; but tho' you were at that time but fifteen Years of Age, yet even then I foresaw you would be as wise as you have proved to be in your riper Years. Pray, acquaint me what strange Adventure brought you hither? And what Expedient you design to propose in order to prevent this War which Idomeneus has brought upon himself? We are all for Peace; 'twas our common Interest to desire it, but we could no longer live secure with him; he has broke his most solemn Promises with his next Neighbours; he has shown to all the rest his ambitious Design of bringing them under Slavery, and has left us no other Means to defend our Liberty, than the using our utmost Endeavours to overthrow his new Kingdom. However, if you can find a way to remove our just Fears, and settle a firm and lasting Peace, all those Nations whom you see here assembled, will gladly lay down their Arms, and confess that you surpass us in Wisdom.  
Mentor answered: Wise Nestor, you know Ulysses committed his Son Telemachus to my Charge; this young Man, impatient to know what was become of his Father, went first to Pylos, where you gave him all the kind Entertainment he could expect from one of his Father's constant Friends, and then ordered your Son to conduct him in his Travels through your Country; He afterwards undertook great Voyages; he saw Sicily, Egypt, and the Isles of Cyprus and Crete; at last the Winds, or rather the Gods, cast him on this Shore, as he endeavoured to return to Ithaca, and we came here in time to prevent the horrors of a cruel War; 'tis not Idomeneus, but the Son of Ulysses and myself, who will answer for the Performance of all Promises that shall be made to you.  
While Mentor was thus discoursing with Nestor, in the middle of the confederate Troops, Idomeneus and Telemachus, with all the Cretans in Arms, kept their Eyes fixed on them from the top of the Walls of Salenta; they observed with great Attention how Mentor's Proposals would be received, and wished they might have heard the wise Speeches of those two venerable old Men. Nestor ever had the Reputation of the most Prudent, and most Eloquent of all the Grecian Princes: 'Twas he, who during the Siege of Troy, allayed and checked the Passion of fierce Achilles; the haughty Ambition of Agamemnon; the Pride of Ajax, and the boisterous Courage of Diomedes; soft Persuasion flowed from his Lips like a stream of Milk and Honey; all those Heroes were attentive to his Voice, and were silent assoon as he begun to speak: He alone knew how to appease fierce Discord in the Camp, and though he began to feel the Infirmities of feeble old Age, yet his Words were still full of Strength and Sweetness. He related Things passed in order to instruct Youth by his consummate Experience, and tho' he was slow of Speech, yet he had a most graceful way of telling a Story. This old Man, admired by all Greece, seemed to lose all his Majesty and Eloquence assoon as Mentor appeared with him; he looked decayed and overborn by Years, whereas Age seemed to bear Respect to Mentor's strong and vigorous Constitution. The Speech of Mentor, though plain and grave, carried with it an Air of Authority which Nestor's Words begun to want; whatever he spoke was Concise, Pithy, Nervous and to the Purpose; he never used vain Repetitions, nor related any thing foreign to the Point in Question. If he was obliged to speak often of the same thing, in order to inculcate it, or to persuade others, he did it with a new Turn, and enforcing Similes; and accompanied the whole with kind and complaisant Expressions, adapted to the Wants of others, and fit to insinuate the Truth of what he said. Those two venerable Men yielded a very moving Sight to so many assembled Nations; and while the confederate Army that besieged Salenta, crowded to see them at close view, and endeavoured to hear their wise Speeches, Idomeneus and those about him, with greedy and attentive Looks strove to discover what their Gestures and Countenance meant. In the mean time Telemachus, full of Impatience, steals away from that Multitude of People that surrounded him, and running to the Gate through which Mentor was gone out, commands it to be opened with an Air of Authority. Soon after Idomeneus, who thought he was still by his Side, wondered to see him running cross the Fields, and making towards Nestor. Nestor knew him again, and hastened, though with slow Steps, to receive him. Telemachus presently flew to embrace him, and hugged him a long time without speaking a Word; at last he cried out: Oh! Father, for I scruple not to call you so, since my Misfortune of not finding my true Father, and the Kindnesses I have received from you, entitle me to use that endearing Name. My Father, my dear Father, how blessed am I to see you! And oh! That I might see Ulysses also! Yet if any thing could alleviate my Sorrow in being deprived of him, 'tis certainly the finding in you another Self. At these Words Nestor was not able to forbear Weeping, and he felt a secret Joy when he perceived those Tears, which, with a wonderful Grace, trickled down Telemaehus' Cheeks. The Beauty, Gentleness, and noble Assurance of this unknown Youth, who without any Precaution, went through so many Enemies, struck all the Allies with Astonishment. Is not this, said they, the Son of that old Man who came to speak with Nestor? Yes, without doubt; for they have both the same Wisdom, though with the different Characters of Age; in the one she does but begin to Blossom, whereas in the other she bears a plentiful Harvest of ripe Fruits. Mentor who saw with Pleasure, with what a tender Affection Nestor had received Telemachus, made use of that happy Disposition. This is, said he to him, the Son of Ulysses, so dear to all Greece, and to yourself. Oh! Wise Nestor, I deliver him up to you as the best and surest Hostage for Idomeneus' Promises. You may easily imagine that I should be loath if the lose of the Son should follow that of the Father, and that the wretched and disconsolate Penelope should reproach Mentor with having sacrificed her Son to the Ambition of the new King of Salenta. With this Surety, who offers himself of his own accord, and whom the Gods, who are lovers of Peace, have sent to you, I begin to offer to all these assembled Nations, such Proposals as will establish for ever a solid and lasting Peace.  
At this Word of Peace, a confused Noise began to spread from Rank to Rank; all those different Nations murmured with Anger and Indignation, thinking so much time lost, while they delayed Fight, and that all those Speeches tended only to allay their Fury, and rob them of their Prey. Among the rest, the Manducians' bore with great impatience, that Idomeneus should ever be in a condition to deceive them again. Therefore they often attempted to interrupt Mentor, for they feared lest his wise Discourse should slacken their Allies; nay, they began to grow Jealous of all the Grecians who were in the Assembly. Mentor perceiving this, made it his Business to fortify their Jealousy, the better to divide the Minds of those different Nations.  
I confess, said he, that the Manducians' have just reason to complain, and to demand reparation for the Wrongs they have suffered; but at the same time, it is not reasonable that the Grecians, who make up the best governed Colonies, should be suspected and odious to the Natives. On the contrary, the Grecians ought to be united together, and make themselves respected by others; the only Thing they must observe, is to be contented with what they enjoy, and never to encroach upon their Neighbour's Territories. I know Idomeneus has been so unhappy as to create Jealousies among you, but 'twill be an easy matter to remove all your Suspicions. Telemachus and myself will become your Hostages: We'll answer for Idomeneus' Fidelity, and will remain in your power till he has faithfully performed all his Promises to you. You are provoked, Oh! Manducians', because the Cretan Troops have made themselves Masters of your Mountains by surprise, and that by that means they are able to make Incursions whenever they please into the Country, whither you did retire, to leave them the open Country near the Seashore. Upon the whole Matter, those narrow Passages which the Cretans have Fortified with high Towers full of armed Men, are the true occasion of this War. Pray, answer me, can you allege any other? Thereupon the chief of the Manducians' advanced and thus spoke.  
What Means have we not used to avoid this War? The Gods themselves can Witness that we renounced Peace, only because it was no longer in our Power to live in Peace, through the stirring Ambition of the Cretans, and the impossibility of trusting to their Oaths again; a senseless Nation, who drove us to the hard necessity of running all Hazards, and seeking our safety in their Ruin; as long as they keep those narrow Passages, we shall ever be afraid of their Designs of encroaching upon our Lands, and bringing us under subjection. Had they no other Thoughts than to live in Peace with their Neighbours, they would be contented with what we yielded up to them of our own accord, and would not desire to keep an Entrance into a Country upon which they have no ambitious Design. You are little acquainted with them, oh! wise old Man, but it has been our Misfortune to know them too, too well. Cease, cease for the future, oh! thou beloved by the Gods, cease to put a stop to a just and necessary War, without which a constant Peace can never be settled in Hesperia. Oh! Ungrateful, treacherous, and cruel Nation, whom the angry Gods have sent among us to trouble our Repose, and punish us for our Faults. Yet after you have punished us, Oh great Gods! You will revenge us too, neither will you be less just to our Enemies than to ourselves.  
At these Words all the Assembly was in an Uproar: It seemed as if Mars and Bellona went from Rank to Rank to kindle in every one's Breast the raging fury of War, which Mentor endeavoured to quench. Whereupon Mentor thus resumed his Discourse: Had I nothing but Promises to make to you, you might choose whether you would accept or reject them; but what I offer is real and certain. If you are not contented to have Telemachus and myself for Hostages, I will cause Twelve of the most noble and valiant Cretans to be delivered up to you. But at the same time it is but just that you should give us Hostages also: For tho' Idomeneus have a sincere desire for Peace, yet he desires it without Fear or Weakness; he seeks Peace just as you seem to desire it, out of Wisdom and Moderation, and not out of a fond Love for a soft and effeminate Life, nor out of fear at the impending Dangers of War. He is ready either to Conquer or to Die, but he prefers Peace to the most glorious Victory; he would be ashamed of being overcome, but he fears the being unjust, and is not ashamed to make amends for what he has done amiss. Tho he offers Peace with Sword in Hand, he would not be thought to impose its Conditions with Imperiousness; for he sets no value upon a forced Friendship. He would have a Peace, wherein all Parties concerned may find their mutual Satisfaction; a Peace that may remove all Jealousies, stifle all Feuds and Resentments, and reconcile all Distrusts. In a Word, Idomeneus has all the Sentiments which, I am sure, you desire he should have; my chief Business now is to persuade you of his real Intentions, which I may do with ease, if you will but hear me with animpartial and unprejudiced Mind. Hear me, Oh! Warlike People; and you, Oh! Wise and united Captains, hear what I offer to you from Idomeneus: As it not just that he should have a free Entrance into his Neighbours' Territories, so it were unreasonable that he should be exposed to the Inroads of his Neighbours; therefore he consents that those straits which he has fortified with high Towers, may be guarded by Troops that shall stand neuter. You Nestor, and you Philoctetes, are born Grecians, yet upon this occasion you declared against Idomeneus, and so cannot be suspected of being too favourable to his side. You are moved and animated by the common Interest of the repose and liberty of Hesperia, and therefore 'tis fit you should be the trusties and Keepers of those narrow Passages which have occasioned this War. You are as much concerned in hindering the old Inhabitants of Hesperia from destroying Salenta, which is a new Greek Colony, like one of those you have founded, as in hindering Idomeneus from encroaching upon his Neighbours. You ought to keep an equal Balance betwixt both Parties; and instead of destroying with Fire and Sword, a People whom you ought to Love, reserve to yourselves the Honour of being Judges and Mediators. I know you would like these Proposals, if you could be sure of the Performance on Idomeneus' part; as to this, I will give you full Satisfaction: For the security of both Parties, there will be those Hostages I mentioned before, till all the narrow Passes be deposited into your Hands. Now when the safety of all Hesperia, and even that of Salenta and Idomeneus shall lie at your Mercy, will you not then be contented? Of whom can you be afraid, unless it be of your own selves? You dare not trust Idomeneus; and yet Idomeneus is so free from any design of deceiving you, that he is willing to trust you. Yes, he will commit to your Charge both the Repose, Lives and Liberty of all his People and himself. If it be true that you only desire an honourable and lasting Peace, how can you now reject her, when she courts you to embrace her? Once more do not think that 'tis Fear that forces Idomeneus to offer you these Proposals; no, 'tis Wisdom and Justice which engage him to take these Measures, without regarding whether you impute to his Weakness what is the effect of his Virtue. In his first attempts he is to blame, and he glories in acknowledging his Faults by obviateing your Demands. 'Tis Weakness, 'tis ridiculous Vanity, 'tis absolute Ignorance of a Man's own Interest, to hope to conceal his Faults, by endeavouring to maintain 'em by a fierce Haughtiness. He who owns his Faults to his Enemy, and who offers to repair 'em, shows by that, that he is become uncapable of committing 'em; and an Enemy cannot be too fearful of so wise and so firm a Conduct, at least if he does not make Peace: Besure you take good heed, that in his turn, he does do you no Injury. If you slight Peace and Justice, which now offer themselves to you, Peace and Justice will take their Revenge. Idomeneus, who ought to have feared that he should have found the Gods provoked against him, will now find 'em on his side against you. Telemachus and myself will Fight for the true Cause; and I call all the Gods both Celestial and Infernal to witness the Justice of those Proposals that I have now made to you.  
At these words Mentor raised his Arm on high to show to that great multitude of People the Olive-Branch, the Signal of Peace, which he had in his Hand. The Commanders, who nearly beheld him, were dazzled with the divine Light that sparkled in his Eyes; he appeared with such an Authority, and so awful a Majesty, as is never seen in the greatest and most illustrious among Mortals. The Charm of his soft, yet powerful Words, stole away their Hearts: They were like those enchanting Words, which in the deep silence of the Night, do in a moment stop the Motion of the Moon and Stars, calm the raging Seas, hush the Winds and the Waves, and stay the Course of the most rapid Streams. Mentor seemed in the middle of these furious People, like Bacchus when he was surrounded by Tigers, which forgetting their fierceness, by the power of his sweet Words, came and licked his Feet, and owned their Subjection by their fawning. All this while there remained a profound silence through all the Army: The Commanders stood gazing on one another, and durst not oppose this single Man, nor imagine who he was. All the Troops stood motionless with their Eyes fixed on him, and durst not make the least noise, lest he should have something more to say, which that might hinder, tho' they could not imagine that any thing could be added to what he had said: His Discourse seemed short, and they wished he had spoken longer. All he had said, remained as it were Engraven in their Hearts; his Speech made him be loved; his Speech made him believed; every one was greedily attentive both with their Ears and Eyes, to catch the least Syllable that came out of his Mouth.  
After a pretty long silence, a kind of a soft noise began to spread itself by little and little on every side, not like the confused noise of People that begin their Anger with harsh Whispers; but on the contrary, it was a kind and gentle Murmur. Every one's Face appeared with a pleasant Serenity and a delightful Softness. The Manducians', so highly enraged, let their Weapons fall out of their Hands. The rugged Phalantus, and the Lacedæmonians, were amazed to find their Hearts so softened; and the rest began to look for that haypy Peace which lately was in view. Philoctetes, whom his own Misfortunes had made more sensible than the rest, could not restrain his Wars. Nestor not being able to speak for the transport into which this Discourse had thrown him, tenderly embraced Mentor, being wholly incapable of uttering one Syllable; and all the People at once, as if it had been a Signal, cried out, Oh, wondrous wise old Man! You alone have disarmed us; Peace, Peace, 'tis Peace we wish for. Presently after this, Nestor would have harrangued 'em; but the Troops were impatient, and feared that he would only start some difficulty: Once again, they cried out, Peace! Peace! And they were no way to be silenced, but by obliging all the Officers of the Army to cry out with them for Peace. Nestor perceiving that he had not then the liberty to make a regular Discourse, was contented only to say; You see, Mentor, what the word of a good Man can do: When Wisdom and Virtue speak, they still all the Passions; our just Resentments turn into Friendship, and desires of a lasting Peace. We accept the Peace you offer us; at which all the Commanders held up their Hands in sign of Agreement. Mentor hasted to the City-Gate to cause it to be opened, and to speak to Idomeneus to come out of the City without any Precaution. Mean while Nestor embraced Telemachus with these words; Thou aimable Son of the wisest of all the Greeks, can you be wiser and happier than He! Have you learned nothing of his Fate? The Memory of your Father, whom you so much resemble, has helped to extinguish our Rage. Phalantus, tho' hard and severe, tho' he has never seen Ulysses, can't but be concerned for his and his Son's Misfortunes. Here Telemachus was pressed to recount his Adventures, till Mentor returned with Idomeneus and all the Cretan Youths which attended him. At the sight of Idomeneus, the Allies felt their Animosity rekindled, but Mentor's words stifled this Fire, just ready to break out. Why do we delay, said he, the Confirmation of this sacred Alliance, of which the Gods will be both Witnesses and Guarantees? May they avenge it, if any impious Wretch dare to violate it; and may all the horrible Plagues of War (not involving the Faithful and Innocent) fall on the perjured and execrable Head of that ambitious Man who shall break the holy Sanctions of this Alliance! May he be hated of Gods and Men! May he never reap the Fruit of his Perfidy! May the infernal Furies, in the most hideous Forms, appear and increase his Rage and Despair! May he be struck dead without any hope of Burial! May his Body be a Prey to Dogs and Praetors! May he be in the deep Abyss of Hell for ever, more severely tormented than Tantalus, lxion, or the Danaid's! But no; rather may this Peace be as firm as the Mountain of Atlas, that supports the Heavens! May all these People preserve and enjoy the Fruits of it from Generation to Generation! May the Names of those who shall swear to it be ever mentioned with Love and Reverence, by the last of of our Race! May this Peace, founded upon Justice and Integrity, be the Pattern of every Peace hereafter to be made among all the Nations of the Universe! And may all the People who would make themselves happy by reuniting, take Example by those of Hesperia!  
At these words, Idomeneus and the other Kings swore to maintain the Peace on the forementioned Articles. Hostages were given on each side, and Telemachus would needs be one of the Hostages for Idomenus; but Mentor could not be one of that Number, because the Allies desired he should continue with Idomeneus, to give an account of his Conduct, and of that of his Counsellors, till the entire execution of the Articles sworn to. An hundred Heifers as white as Snow were sacrificed between the Enemy's Camp and the Town, together with as many white Bulls whose Horns were gilded and adorned with Garlands. The frightful Bellow of the Sacrifices that fell under the sacred Knife, resounded over all the neighbouring Mountains; the reaking Gore streamed on all sides; a great abundance of the richest Wine was poured out for the Libations; the Aruspices consulted the Entrails yet panting. In these Sacrifices was burned on the Altar an Incense that ascended like a large Cloud, whose Odour perfumed the whole Country. While the Soldiers on both sides throwing off the unkind Aspects of Enemies, began to entertain one another with their Adventures, and already had left off their Labour, and by degrees tasted the sweetness of Peace: Many of those who had followed Idomeneus to the Siege of Troy, knew those who belonged to Nestor which had been engaged with them in the same War, and very kindly embracing each other, mutually related what had befallen 'em, after they had ruined that lofty City, the Ornament and Glory of all Asia: And now they lay down on the Grass, crowned with Flowers, drinking Wine together that was sent 'em out of the Town in large Vessels, to celebrate so happy a day.  
Then said Mentor to the Kings; O ye Captains, assembled under several Names and several Leaders, you shall now be but one People: For thus the just Gods, Lovers of Mankind, have decreed the eternal Tie of their Concord. The entire human Race is but one large Family dispersed over the Face of the whole Earth: All Men are Brothers to each other, and aught to love as such. Cursed are those wicked Men who seek a cruel Glory in the Blood of their Brethren, which is, indeed, their own. 'Tis true, War is sometimes necessary; but it is a shame to Humanity, that it is inevitable on some occasions. Oh Princes! think not that it ought to be desired for the acquisition of Glory! True Glory is not to be found void of Humanity; whoever prefers his own particular Glory to the Sentiments of Humanity, is a Monster of Pride and no Man, and can never obtain any other than a false Glory: For true Glory consists only in Moderation and Goodness. He may be flattered, indeed, to satisfy his foolish Vanity; but if Men went to speak their real Opinion of him in private, it ought justly to be said, That he has so much the lefs deserved Glory, as he has sought it with an unjust Passion: Men ought not to esteem him, because he has so little valued Men, and has been so prodigal of their Blood through a brutish Vanity. Happy's that King who loves his People, and is beloved by them; who dare trust his Neighbours, and who is trusted by them; who, far from making War against them, prevents any War between them, and giveth occasion to all Foreign Nations to wish themselves as happy as his Subjects in having him for their King! Resolve then to meet from time to time, O ye Princes of the powerful Cities of Hesperia, and hold a general Assembly once every three Years, where all the Kings here present shall concur to continue this Alliance by a new Oath, to confirm this promised Friendship, and to concert all your common Interests. As long as you are united, you will enjoy at home in this fine Country both Peace, Honour and Plenty; abroad you will ever be invincible. 'Tis only Discord, the Daughter of Hell, that torments poor distracted Mortals, that has Power to interrupt the Happiness the Gods do design you. Nestor replied, You see by the readiness with which we make Peace, how far we are from making War through any Vainglory, or by the unjust greediness of advancing ourselves by the depression of our Neighbours; but what can we do when we find ourselves near a violent Prince, who knows no Law but his Interest, and who takes all occasions to invade the Territories of other States? Think not that I speak of Idomeneus: No; I have no longer such a Thought of him: 'Tis Adrastus' King of the Daunians from whom we ought to fear all Mischiess: He contemns the Gods, and thinks that all Men upon the Face of the Earth were born only to promote his Glory by their Slavery: He will have no Subject of whom he may be both King and Father: He must have Slaves and Adorers, and will be worshipped as a God. Hitherto the blind Goddess, Fortune, has favoured his unjust Erterprises: We hasted to attack Salanta to defeat the weakest of our Enemies, who only began to establish himself on this side, at last to turn our Forces against that other more powerful Enemy: He has already taken several Towns from our Allies: He has defeated the Cretonians in two Battles, using all Means whatever to satisfy his Ambition; Force and Cunning are alike to him, so he can but weaken his Enemies: He has heaped up a great mass of Treasure, and his Troops are disciplined and inur'd to War; his Commanders are Experienced; he is well obeyed, watching himself continually over all those who act by his Order; he punishes the least Faults with Severity, and largely rewards the good Services done him; his Valour sustains and animates the Courage of all his Troops, and he would be an accomplished King if Justice and Honesty guided his Actions: But he neither fears the Gods nor the Checks of his Conscience; nor does he value Fame itself, but looks on it as a vain Phantom, which can affect none but poor spirited Men; he esteems nothing as a real and solid Good, but the advantage of possessing great Riches, to be feared and to prostrate all Mankind at his Feet. Shortly you'll find his Army upon our Confines, and if the union of so many People do not enable us to resist him, we have certainly lost all hopes of Liberty. 'Tis therefore the Interest of Idomenus as well as ours to oppose this haughty Man, who can suffer nothing free in his Neighbourhood. If we had been overcome, Salenta would have been threatened with the same Misfortune. Let us make haste then all together to prevent it.  
Whilst Nestor spoke thus, they advanced toward the Town: For Idomeneus had invited all the Kings and principal Commanders to enter and pass the Night there: ' Mean while all the Army of the Allies set up their Tents, and all the Field was already covered with rich Pavilions of all sorts of Colours, wherein the wearied Hesperians expected refreshing Sleep. When the Kings and their Retinue were entered the City, they were amazed to see, how in so little a time so many magnificent Structures could be raised; and that the hurry of so great a War had not hindered this growing City from increasing, and from being beautyfied all at once.  
They admired the wisdom and vigilance of Idomeneus, who had founded so brave a Kingdom, and every one concluded that having made Peace with him, the Allies would be very powersul, if he entered into a League with them against the Dauneans. It was therefore proposed to Idomeneus to join with them in it, who could not reject so just a Proposal, promising'em assistance: But as Mentor was not ignorant of any thing that is necessary that may make a State flourish, he was assured that the Forces of Idomeneus could not be so great as they seemed, wherefore, taking him apart, he thus spoke to him.  
You see our care has not been altogether unprofitable to you: Salenta is guarded from the Misfortune that threatened it: 'Tis now only in your power to raise its Glory high as the Heavens, and to equal the Wisdom of your Grandsire in the Government of your People. I proceed to speak freely to you, believing you would have me do so, and that you hate all manner of Flattery. Whilst these Kings were praising your Magnificence, I was thinking to myself on the Rashness of your Conduct:— At this word Rashness Idomeneus changed Countenance; his Eyes looked wildly, he coloured and was going to interrupt Mentor, who said to him in a modest and respectful Tone, but free and bold; I see plainly this word Rashness chokes you, and confess, any one but myself would hardly have used it; for we ought to respect Kings and humour their nicety, especially when we reprove'em: Truth alone is enough to offend 'em, without adding rough Expressions; but I was in hopes that you could have permitted me to have spoken to you without Lenitives, to let you see your Error: My Design has been to accustom you to understand how to call Things by their Names, and to perceive, that when others give you their Advice upon your Conduct, they never dare tell you all that they Think; and, if you would not be deceived in it, you should always apprehend more than they will say to you, of what relates to your disadvantage. For my part, I shall willingly soften my Words according to your Business. At these Words Idomeneus, who by this time had recovered of his passionate Disorder, seemed ashamed of his Nicety: You see, said he to Mentor, what the Custom of being Flattered does. I desire the welfare of my Kingdom, and there is no Truth, how ungrateful soever, but what I shall think myself happy to hear from your Mouth: But pity a Monarch, whom Flattery had poisoned, and who even in his Misfortunes could not, find a Man brave enough to tell him the Truth. No, I have never found any Body who has loved me so well as to displease me in telling me the whole Truth. Here the Tears stood in his Eyes, and he tenderly embraced Mentor. Then said the old wise Man, 'tis with Grief that I see myself constrained to tell you some hard Things; but can I betray you in telling you the Truth? I suppose yourself in my Place; if you have hitherto been deceived, 'twas because you were very willing to be so; 'twas this made you fear to be advised. Have you sought for the most disinteressed People, and who were most likely to contradict you? Have you made it your Business to choose Men the least found to please you? The most unbiass'd in their Conduct, and the most capable to condemn your unjust Sentiments and Passions? When you have found Flatterers, have you discarded 'em? Have you disinherited yourself? No, no; you have not done as those do who love Truth, and who deserve to know it. Let us see if you will henceforward have the Courage to act better, and to suffer yourself to be humbled by the Truth that condemns you. I said, that what acquires you so great praise, deserves to be blamed. While you had so many Enemies abroad, who threatened your Kingdom, yet but ill established, you thought on nothing within your new City, but to raise stately Buildings in it: 'Tis this has caused you so many restless Nights, as you yourself have owned to me. You have consumed your Wealth; you neither thought of increasing your People, nor of Cultivating the fertile Lands of this side. Should you not have looked upon these two Things as the two essential Foundations of your Power? To have a great number of able Men, and Lands well Cultivated to Feed 'em? There aught to have been a long Peace in these beginnings to favour the increase of your People. You should have thought of nothing but Husbandry, and the establishment of the most wise Laws. A vain Ambition has pushed you on to the very brink of a Precipice; and by labouring to appear Great, you had like to have ruined your true Greatness. Make haste now to repair these Faults; Leave off all your great Works; throw off all Pride which would ruin your new City: Let your People take their Ease, and apply yourself to settle 'em in Plenty, to facilitate their Marriages. For, know that you are no longer a King than you have a People to govern; and that you should not measure your Power by the extent of the Lands you possess, but by the number of Men, who inhabit 'em, and who are bound to obey you: Make choice of good Ground, though but indifferent in extent, and fill it with a numerous People, Laborious and Disciplined; endeavour to be loved by these People, and then you will be more Powerful, more Happy, and more Glorious than all the Conquerors who lay waste so many Kingdoms.  
How shall I deport myself then, said Idomeneus, to these Kings? Shall I own my Weakness to them? 'Tis true, I have neglected Husbandry and Commerce too, which is so convenient for me in these Parts, having thought on nothing but to build me a stately City. Must I, my dear Mentor, dishonour myself before so many Kings, and discover my want of Power? If I must, I will without any scruple, whatever it costs me: For you have taught me that a true King, who is made for his People, and who owes himself wholly to them, aught to prefer the welfare of his Kingdom to his own Reputation. This Sentiment, replied Mentor, becomes a Father of the People; 'tis by this Goodness, and not by the magnificence of your City, that I perceive the Soul of a true King in you: But your Honour must be maintained as well for the Interest of your Kingdom: That shall be my Province, I will therefore go tell these Kings, that you have engaged yourself to re-establish Ulysses, if he be yet Living, or at least his Son, to Ithaca; and that you will drive thence by force all the Lovers of Penelope. They must needs consider that this War will require a grcat number of Troops, and so they will agree that you can afford 'em but small supplies against the Daunians.  
At these Words Idomeneus appeared like a Man eased of a Burden not to be born. My dear Friend, said he to Mentor, you will thus save my Honour, and the Reputation of this growing City, whose Weakness you will hide from all my Neighbours: But what probability is there that I will send forces to Ithaca, to re-establish Ulysses there, or at least his Son Telemachus, since Telemachus himself is engaged to go to the War against the Daunians? Don't trouble yourself, Sir, replied Mentor, I'll tell 'em nothing but Truth: The Vessels that you send to establish your Trade, shall go to the Coast of Epirus, which will do two Things at one time; one in recalling the foreign Merchants, whom too great Imposts do estrange from Salenta, to your Coast; and t'other in enquiring News of Ulysses; who, if he be yet alive, can't be far from those Seas that part Greece and Italy; and it is certainly reported that he was seen among the Pheocians: But, if there be no hope of seeing him again, your Fleet will however do a signal Piece of Service to his Son; for they will spread through Ithaca, and all the neighbouring Countries, a terror of the Name of young Telemachus, who was thought to be dead as well as his Father: The Lovers of Penelope will be astonished to hear that he is ready to return with the Succours of a powerful Ally; The Ithacans will not dare to shake off the Yoke; Penelope will be comforted, and will ever refuse to make choice of a Husband. Thus you will serve Telemachus whilst he is in your place, with the Allies on this Coast of Italy against the Daunians. At these words, Idomeneus cried out, Happy's the King who is supported by wise Counsels! A wise and faithful Friend, is more worth to a King than victorious Armies. But doubly blessed is the King who is sensible of his Happiness, and knows how to profit himself by the use of wise Counsels: For often it happens, that wise and honest Men, whose Virtue is feared, are far removed from his trust, that he may give an ear to Flatterers, whose Treason is never feared. I am myself fallen into this Error, and I will relate to you all the Misfortunes that have befallen me by a false Friend, who flattered my Passions, in hopes, that in return, I would flatter his.  
Mentor easily made the Confederate Kings understand that Idomeneus ought to take care of the Affairs of Telemachus, whilst that young Prince went with them. They were very well satisfied that they had in their Army the Young Son of Ulysses, and an hundred of the Cretan Youth, whom Idomeneus gave him to accompany him; they were the Flower of the young Nobility which the King brought along with him from Crete. 'Twas Mentor who advised him to send 'em to this War. You must take care, said he, to increase the People during this Peace; but lest all the Nation should grow soft and effeminate, and be ignorant of the Art of War; you must send the young Nobility to the Wars abroad, who will be sufficient to set the whole Kingdom on an Emulation of Glory, or the Love of Arms, on the Contempt of Fatigues, and of Death itself; in short, on the Experience of the Military Art.  
The Confederate Kings left Salenta, very well satisfied with King Idomeneus, and charmed with the Wisdom of Mentor. They were very glad that they had got Telemachus along with 'em; who could not master his Grief when he was to part with his Friend. Whilst the Consederat Kings took their leaves, and swore to Idomeneus that they would keep an eternal Alliance with him, Mentor holding Telemachus locked in his Arms, felt himself bedewed with that young Prince's Tears. I am insensible, said Telemachus, of the Joy that I am going in quest of Glory, nothing now fills my Soul but the Grief that I must part from you. Methinks I see again that unfortunate time when the Egyptains snatched me from between your Arms, and carried me away from you without giving me the least hope of seeing you any more. Mentor returned an answer to these words, sweet and obliging, the better whereby to comfort him: This, said he, is a Separation far different, this is voluntary and will be short; you go to seek Victory. My Son, you should love me less tenderly and with a more manly Love. Accustom yourself to my absence; you will not always have me with you: Wisdom and Virtue rather than the Presence of Mentor, should inspire you with what you ought to do. Saying this, the Goddess, concealed under the Person of Mentor, covered Telemachus with her Eyes, and breathed into him the Spirit of Wisdom and Foresight, undaunted Valour and a sweet Moderation, which are so rarely found together. Go, said Mentor, into the midst of the greatest Dangers as often as it is convenient you should go. A Prince dishonours himself much more in shunning the Dangers of War, than in never going to 'em at all. The Courage of him who commands others, ought never to be doubtful. If it be necessary that a People should preserve their General and King, it is the more necessary to 'em not to see him in an uncertain Reputation of Valour. Remember, that he who Commands, aught to be a Pattern to all the rest; and his Example ought to encourage the whole Army. Expose yourself then, O Telemachus, and perish in the Combat rather than expose yourself to the Malice of those who could doubt your Courage! But, on the other hand, seek not for Dangers without advantage; for Valour can no longer be a Virtue than it is guided by Prudence; otherwise it is a mad contempt of Life and a brutish Heat. Desperate Valour is ever uncertain. He who does not command himself in Dangers, is rather Wild than Brave; 'tis necessary that he should be beside himself to put himself above Fear; because he can't surmount it by the natural Situation of his Heart: In this Case, if he does not fly, at least he is troubled that he loses the freedom of his Mind, which would be necessary to him in using opportunities to rout the Enemy, or to serve his Country; if he has all the Fire of a Soldiet, he has nor the Discretion of a Captain; and yet more, he has not the true Courage of a private Soldier; for a Soldier ought to preserve a Presence of Mind in the Fight, and a Moderation necessary to Obedience. He who rashly exposes himself, disturbs the order and discipline of Troops; gives an Example of Rashness, and often exposes the whole Army to great Misfortunes: Those who prefer their vain Ambition to the safety of the common Cause, deserve Punishments, not Rewards. Take good heed then, my dear Son! not to seek Glory with too much impatience! The true Means to find it, is quietly to wait a favourable Opportunity: Virtue causes herself the more to be feared, by how much she appears more plain, more modest, and more an Enemy to all Pride. 'Tis by degrees that the necessity of being exposed to Danger is increased, and that new Succours of Foresight and Courage are requisite, which always go together. For other Matters, remember that you ought never to draw on you the Envy of any Body. On t'other side, be not jealous of the success of others; be sure first to praise whatsoever merits any thing of Praise; but praise with discretion, repeating the Good with Pleasure; and think no more of it but with Sorrow. Bened positive before the old Commanders, who have gained by Experience that which 'tis impossible you should have; hearken to 'em with Deference; consult 'em; desire the most able to instruct you, and be not ashamed to own how far you have improved by their Instructions: In short, never give ear to Discourses by which your Distrust or Jealousy may be raised against the other chief Officers; but speak to 'em with frankness and ingenuity: If you think they have not born themselves well to you, open your Heart to 'em, and explain all your Reasons to 'em: If they are capable of understanding the Generosity of this Conduct, you will charm 'em, and you will draw from 'em all that you have occasion to expect: On the contrary, if they have not sense enough to apprehend your meaning, you will be informed by yourself how unjust they are, and how to suffer it; and will thence take your Measures to trust 'em no more as long as the War lasts, and thus will have nothing to accuse yourself of: But, above all things, never tell any Flatterers, who sow Division, the occasions of Complaints which you believe you have against the Commanders of the Army to which you belong.  
I will stay here, continued Mentor, to help Idomeneus in his Business, to labour for the Happiness of his People. I will stay for you, O my dear Telemachus! Remember, that those who fear the Gods have nothing to fear from Men! You will be present to yourself in the greatest Dangers; but know! that Minerva will never forsake you.  
At these words Telemachus thought that he saw the Goddess herself; and he had certainly known that 'twas she who spoke to him, to inspire him with Bravery, if the Goddess had not recalled the Idea of Mentor; saying, Forget not, my Son, the unwearyed Care I have taken of you in your Infancy, that you might be as wise and valorous as your Father; do nothing therefore unworthy his great Example, and of the Principles of Virtue with which I have endeavoured to inspire you!  
The Sun was already risen, and gilded the Tops of the Mountains, when the King came out of Salenta to re-join the Troops. These Troops encamped round the City, began to March under their Commanders; on every side were seen the bright Steel of bristling Pikes; the glittering Shields dazzled their Eyes. A Cloud of Dust mounted up to the Skies. Idomeneus and Mentor conducted the Confederate Kings into the Camp, which was at a good distance from the Walls of the City. At last they parted, after having given the Marks of a true Friendship on each side. The Allies no longer doubted that the Peace would last, now they knew the sincerity of the Mind of Idomeneus, which was represented to 'em very different from what it was; for he was Judged of, not by his own natural Inclinations, but by the Flatteries and unjust Counsels to which he had given himself over.  
After the Army was gone, Idomeneus led Mentor into every part of the City, and the neighbouring Country; but Mentor would first see his Naval Forces. Let us (said he) number your Vessels; let us take an exact account of their Burden, and how many Sailors you have to Man 'em, either to maintain a War, or to carry on the Trade of your Subjects, by which your Power is to be measured. Then he went to see the Port, and aboard every Vessel, informing himself of the Country, where each of 'em went to Traffic; what Merchandise it carried, what Goods they took in return; what was the Charge of the Ship during the time she was at Sea; the Loans that the Merchants made one to another; the Companies they set up among themselves, to see if they were equitably and faithfully observed. Finally, the hazards of Ship-wreck, and other Mischances of Trade, in order to prevent the Ruin of Merchants, who, out of a greedy desire of Gain, do often undertake more than they know how to manage. He ordained severe Punishments for all Bankrupts, because their Breaking is always owing to their Rashness, if not to their Dishonesty: At the same time he made several Regulations in order to prevent Bankrupts; and to that end he created Magistrates, to whom the Merchants were to give an Account of their Effects, Profits, Expenses, and Ventures. They were never suffered to venture another Man's Estate, nor above half of their own. Moreover they carried on by Joint-stock, those Undertake which they could not have managed singly; and the By-laws of their respective Companies became inviolable, through the severe Punishments inflicted on the Infringers of the same. Besides, every one had full liberty of Trading, and instead of overcharging them with Taxes and Duties, there was an Encouragement proposed to all Merchants that could engage any other Nation to trade to Salenta. By this means there was a general resort of People from all Parts; the Commerce of that City was like the flux and reflux of the Sea; Riches continually entered into it like rolling Waves, which are pushed forwards by those succeeding: All manner of Wares were freely Imported and Exported; whatever they brought in was good for something or other; and nothing was Exported that did not introduce other Riches in its Room. Justice alone reigned in the Port among so many different Nations; upright Dealing, Honesty and Candour, from the tops of those high Towers, seemed to invite all Merchants from the remotest Parts of the Universe. Every one of those Merchants, whether he came from the Eastern Shore, where the Sun rises each Day out of the Bosom of the watery Deep; or whether he came from that great Sea, where that radiant Planet, weary of its Course, extinguishes its Fires and goes to rest; every one, I say, lived in Peace and Safety in Salenta, as if it had been his own Country. As for the inside of the City, Mentor viewed all Storehouses, Tradesmens Shops, and public Places; prohibited all Foreign Goods that might introduce Luxury and Effeminacy; and regulated the Apparel, Food, Householdstuff, State, and Ornament of Houses, according to the different Conditions and Degrees: He forbade the making and wearing of all Ornaments of Gold and Silver; and told Idomeneus, I know but one way to make your People moderate in their Expenses, which is your own Example of Moderation; 'tis requisite you should be distinguished by an outward show of Majesty; but your Guards, and the chief Officers which are about you, will be a sufficient Mark of your Authority. Be contented to wear a Garment of super-fine Wool died in Purple; let the Chief Men of your State be clad of the same Wool, and that all the difference be in the Colour; and a thin Embroidery of Gold on the Skirts of your Robe. Those different Colours will serve to distinguish the different Degrees, without the expensive help either of Gold, Silver, or Precious Stones. Regulate those Degrees by Birth and Extraction, and let those be placed in the first Rank, whose Descent is most Noble, Ancient, and Conspicuous. Those, who by their Merit shall be advanced to Places of Trust and Authority, will be contented to come after those Ancient and Illustrious Families, which for a long time have been in possession of Honour: And such, whose Extraction is not so Noble as theirs, will easily give place to them, if so be you do not suffer them to forget themselves in a high and sudden Preferment, and bestow new Honours and Commendations on those who know how to be moderate in Prosperity. That distinction which proceeds from a long continuation of Noble Ancestors, is the least exposed to Envy; next to that, Virtue must be excited and encouraged, and Men will be ready to serve the State, provided you bestow Crowns and Statues upon great Actions, which will be a Spring of Nobility for the Sons of those that have achieved them. Persons of the first Rank, next to you, shall be clad in White, with a Gold and Silver Fringe on the lower Border of their Garment, and shall wear a Gold Ring on their Fingers. Those of the second Rank, shall be clad in Blue, with a Silver Fringe and a Ring, but no Medal. The Third in Green without Fringe, but with a Medal. The Fourth in deep Yellow. The Fifth in a pale Red. The Sixth in Grisdelin. The Seventh who shall be the meanest of the People, in Yellow mixed with White. These are the Colours for the seven different Degrees of Freemen. The Slaves shall be clad in Dark-brown. Thus without any expense, every one's Condition shall be distinguished, and all those Arts shall be banished from Salenta, which serve only to keep up a vain Pomp, and foment Luxury. All the Artificers who are now employed about those pernicious Arts, shall either betake themselves to necessary Arts, which are but few, to Merchandise, or to Agriculture. It shall never be lawful to change either the Manufactory of Stuffs, or the Fashion of clothes; for 'tis a shameful Thing for Men destined to a serious and noble Life, to spend their time in inventing affected Ornaments; or to suffer their Wives, in whom those tristing Amusements are less disgraceful, to be guilty of those Extravagancies.  
Mentor, like a skilful Gardiner, who lops the useless Branches off the Trees, endeavoured to retrench vain Pomp and Luxury, which depraved good Manners, and to introduce a noble and frugal Plainness in every thing. He likewise regulated the ordinary Food both of Citizens and Slaves. What a shame, said he, it is for the most eminent Men to make their Grandeur to consist in Ragoos and Kickshaws, by which they effeminate their Minds, and continually impair the health of their Bodies? Whereas they ought to place their Happiness in Moderation; in their Authority, which gives them an occasion of doing good to other men; and in the Fame and Reputation they acquire by their good Actions. Sobriety and Temperance make the most ordinary Food the most palatable; and with a vigorous Constitution of Body. procure the most constant Pleasures. Therefore let your Tables be furnished with the best sort of Meats, dressed without any Ragoos; for the provoking men's Appetites beyond the regular craving of their Stomaches, is but a more refined Art of Poisoning: By that Idomeneus easily understood how ill he had done, in suffering the Inhabitants of his New City, to soften and corrupt their Manners, through the Violation of the Laws of Minos about Sobriety: But wise Mentor put him in mind, That the reviving of those very Laws would signify nothing, unless his own Example gave them that Vigour and Authority, which nothing else could procure them. Thereupon Idomeneus regulated his Table, and ordered that nothing should be served to him besides excellent Bread, delicious Wine of the growth of that Country, but in small quantities, with Meat plainly dressed, and such as he used to eat with the other Grecians at the Siege of Troy. No Person durst to complain of a Law which the King imposed upon himself, and by that means every body retrenched the profuseness of Dainties and Delicacies, which they began to introduce in their Meals.  
Next to that, Mentor silenced soft and effeminate Music, as tending to corrupt Youth; and likewise condemned Tavern-Musick, which inebriates the Mind no less than Wine itself, and is often the cause of Riot and Impudence in Men's Manners. Thus he confined Music to Festivals within the Temples, to celebrate the Praises of the Gods, and of those Hero's, who have left us Patterns of the most excellent Virtues. Nor did he permit any of the great Ornaments of Architectures, such as Pillars, Pedestals, and Porticoes, to be used any where but in Temples. He made himself new Draughts of a plain and graceful Architecture, whereby on a small piece of Ground one might build a pleasant and convenient House for a numerous Family, in such a manner, that it was exposed to a wholesome Air; that its several Lodgings were independent upon one another; and that it might easily be kept in Order and Repair at a small charge. These different Draughts of Houses, according to the number of Persons in each Family, served to embellish part of the City with little Expense, and to make it regular; whereas the other Part, which was already built up according to the Caprice or Vanity of private Persons, tho' more magnificent, was yet less pleasant and convenient.  
Painting and Carving were Arts which Mentor did not think fit to be laid aside; however he allowed but few Men in Salenta to profess 'em. He settled a public School to teach those Arts, and appointed most skilful Masters to examine the young Prentices. Those Arts, said he, which are not absolutely necessary, ought not to admit of any thing that's mean or indifferent; and therefore no young Men should be suffered to learn them, but those whose promising Genius seems to tend to Perfection: As for others who are Born for less noble Arts, they will be usefully employed about the ordinary Occasions of the Commonwealth. The only thing, added he, wherein Carvers and Painters ought to be employed, is in preserving the Memory of great Men, and their noble Actions; and for that purpose, Representations and Memorials of what has been Achieved with an extraordinary Industry, aught to be used in public Buildings and Tombs. Moreover Mentor's Moderation and Frugality did not go so far, but that he allowed these great Buildings designed for Horse, or Chariot-Races, Wrestling, Fights with Cestus, and all other Exercises, which render the Body both more supple, active, and vigorous. He suppressed a vast number of Merchants and Shopkeepers, who sold figured Stuffs of remote Countries; Embroidered Works of an excessive Price; Gold and Silver Vessels with embossed Figures of the Gods, Men, and Animals; and lastly refined Liquors and Perfumes. He ordered likewise that the Furniture of every House should be plain, strong, and lasting. Thus the Salentines who loudly complained of their Poverty, began to be sensible how many superfluous Riches they enjoyed; but those were deceitful Riches, which made them really poor; and they only became truly Rich, as soon as they had the Resolution to dispossess themselves of them. 'Tis the best way, said they, to grow Rich, by despising such Riches as exhaust the Nation, and the reducing all our Wants to the true and necessary occasions of Nature.  
Mentor was diligent in viewing the Arcenals and public Magazines, to see that Arms and all other Things necessary in War were in Order. For, said he, we always must be in readiness to make War, the better to prevent the Misfortune of being first Attacked. Now hawing found a great many Things wanting every where, he presently assembled Artificers to work Iron, Steel and Brass: You might have seen burning Furnaces, and Clouds of Fire and Smoak mounting on high like those substerranean Fires which are vomited up by Mount AEtna. The study Hammer resounded on the Anvil which groaned under the repeated Strokes; the neighbouring Mountains and Seashore echoed to 'em; one would have thought himself to be in that famous Island where Vulcan cheers up his Cyclopes, and forges Thunderbolts for the Father of the Gods: And by a wise forecast all the Preparations for a War were making in a profound Peace. Afterwards Mentor went out of the City with Idomeneus, and found a great Tract of fertile Lands lying waste and uncultivated; others were manured but by halves through the Negligence and Poverty of the Husbandmen, who wanted more Hands, and bodily Strength to bring Agriculture to Perfection. Mentor beholding those desolate Fields, said to the King: This Land is willing to enrich the Inhabitants, but the Inhabitants are wanting to the Land, and to themselves. Let us therefore take all the useless Artificers who are in the City, and whose Trade tends only to debauch Manners, in order to make them till and manure these Plains and high Grounds. I own its a Misfortune that all those Men who have practised Arts which require a sedentary Life, are not inur'd to hard Labour; but here is a Remedy for it: We must divide among them all the Lands void of Inhabitants, and call to their assistance some of the Neighbouring People who will undertake the hardest Work under 'em, provided they allow them a reasonable share in the Profits of the Lands they shall begin to Blow. Nay, in time they may enjoy a proportion of those Lands, and being thus incorporated with your People, provided they be laborious and submissive to the Laws, they will increase your Power, and prove the best Subjects. Your City-Tradesmen, now transplanted into the Country, will train up their Children to Labour, and enure them to the Yoke of a rural Life, and in process of Time, all the Country round about shall be stocked with strong, vigorous Men, addicted to Husbandry. Now you need not be solicitous about the increase of your People; for they will soon multiply to a Prodigy, if you encourage Matrimony, which you may do with great ease. Most Men have an Inclination to Marry, and 'tis generally Want that keeps them from it. If you do not over-charge 'em with Taxes, they will live at ease with their Wives and Families; for the Earth is never ungrateful; She always yields Fruits to sustain those who cultivate her with Care and Diligence, and only denies her Benefits to those who refuse to bestow their Labour upon her. The more Children Husbandmen have, the richer they are, provided the Prince study not to make them Poor; for their Children, even from their tenderest Youth, begin to be a help to 'em; the youngest tend the Flocks while they are Feeding; those of riper Years begin to drive the great Droves of Cattle; and the most aged guide the Plough-handle with their Father: In the mean time the Mother and all her Family Dress a course Meal for her Husband, and her dear Children, against they come home spent with the Toil of the Day. She takes care to Milk her Cows, and Streams of sweet Liquor fill her cleanly Pails; she lights a great Fire, round which the innocent and peaceful Family divert themselves with Singing merry Lays before they go to rest; she gets ready Cheese, Chestnuts, and Fruits that look as fresh as if new gathered. In the mean time the Shepherd comes home with his Flute, and Sings to the Family such new Songs as he learned in the Neighbouring Villages. The Husbandman comes in with his Plough, and goads along his wearied Oxen, which walk with slow Steps, and bending Necks. All the Hardships of Labour end with the Day: The kind Poppies which Morpheus, by the Command of the immortal Gods, scatters all over the Earth, quiet all black Thoughts, charm and lull Nature into a soft Enchantment, and every one falls asleep without forecasting the Labours of the next Day. Happy are those Men who live without Ambition, Distrust, or Disguise, provided the Gods vouchsafe to give 'em a good King, who never disturbs their innocent Joys. But what a horrid piece of Cruelty it is, the wresting from their Hands the sweet Fruits of the Earth, which they owe to the Bounty of Nature, and the sweat of their Brows, only to gratify the Pride and Ambition of one single Man! Nature alone, out of her fruitful Bosom is able to maintain an infinite number of thrifty and laborious Men; but 'tis the Pride and luxurious Effeminacy of some Men who reduce so many others to the dreadful pressures of Poverty.  
But what shall I do, said Idomeneus, if those Men whom I disperse about a fruitful Country, neglect to Cultivate it? Follow, answered Mentor, a Method entirely opposite to that which is generally used by others. Greedy Princes, who have no Forecast, make it their Business to lay heavy Taxes on such among their Subjects, who are most Diligent and Industrious in the improving of their Estates, because they think they can raise those Duties with more ease; and at the same time they favour and excuse those whom Sloth and Idleness have Impoverished. Invert that bad Method, which over-burdens the Good, encourages Vice, and introduces a supine Negligence no less fatal to the King, than to the whole State. Impose Taxes, Fines, nay if need be, more rigorous Penalties on those who neglect the Culture of their Lands; just as you would inflict Punishments on those Soldiers who quit their Post in War: Grant Favours and Exemptions to such Families as multiply; and augment in proportion the extent of their Possessions. By this means their Families will soon increase, and every Body will be encouraged to Labour; nay, Husbandry being no longer attended by so many Hardships, will be so far from being despised, that it will become Honourable; the Plough, now in esteem, shall be guided by those very Hands that gained Victories over the Enemies of the Country; and the Cultivating ones own Lands will be no less creditable, during a happy Peace, than the securing of the same during the Troubles of War. All the Country will flourish and smile again; Ceres will be crowned with golden Ears of Corn; Bacchus stamping the Grapes with his Feet, shall cause Streams of Wine more delicious than Nectar, to glide down the shelving Hills; the hollow Valleys shall echo to the rural Consorts of Shepherds, who along the grassy Banks of purling Brooks shall Sing to their Pipes, both their amorous Pains and Pleasures, whilst their Flocks dancing to the Harmony, shall crop the Grass enamell'd with Flowers, secure from the ravenous Wolves. Will it not be a great happiness for you, Oh! Idomeneus, to be the Spring of so many Blessings, and to make so many People live in soft repose under the Shadow of your auspicious Name? Is not this Glory more affecting and more to be coveted, than that of laying the World waste, and spreading every where (nay even at home, in the midst of one's Victories, as well as among the Vanquished abroad) Slaughter, Destruction, Horror, Conesternation, cruel Famine, and Despair? Oh! Happy the King, who is so beloved of the Gods, and has so large a Soul as to undertake to make himself the Delight of his People, and show to all Ages the charming and wondrous Spectacle of his Reign! The whole Earth, instead of shunning his Power by Fights and Battles, would prostrate herself at his Feet, to beg him to Rule over her.  
But, replied Idomeneus, when my People live thus in Peace and Plenty, Pleasures will soon corrupt them, and they will bend against me that very Power I have put into their Hands. Fear not, said Mentor, any such Inconvenience: That's but a vain Pretence to flatter the Prodigality of those Princes, who over-charge their People with Taxes. Besides, there's a Remedy at hand: Those Laws we have made for Husbandry, will inure them to a laborious Life; and even in Plenty, they shall have only Necessaries, because we retrench all Arts which introduce Superfluities. Nay, that Plenty shall be lessened by the freqent Marriages, and the great increase of Families: For every Family being grown Numerous, and possessing but a competent Portion of Land, shall be forced to bestow continual labour upon the Culture of it. 'Tis Effeminacy and Sloth which make the People insolent and rebellious. They shall have Bread, I confess; and Bread in abundance: But then they shall have nothing but Bread, and the Fruits of their own Land, gotten by the Sweat of their Brows. To keep your People within that just Moderation, you must at this very time regulate the extent of Ground which every Family shall be allowed to possess. You know we distributed all your People into seven Ranks, according to their different Conditions: Now you must not suffer any Family, of any Degree, to enjoy more Land than is absolutely necessary for the Maintenance of those Persons who depend upon it. This being a standing inviolable Rule, the Nobles shall not be able to purchase from the Poor: All shall have Lands; but every one shall have but a small Share, and by that means shall be excited to Cultivate it well. If in long process of time Lands should grow short here, you might send Colonies abroad, which would increase the Power of this State. Moreover, I think you never ought to suffer Wine to be too plentiful in your Dominions; if they have planted too many Vines, command them to be destroyed; for Wine is a main source of the greatest Mischiefs among the People; it causes Diseases, Quarrels, Seditions, Idleness and Sloth, and Disorders in Families. Therefore let Wine be preserved as a kind of Remedy, or as a choice Liquor, to be emply'd only in Sacrifices, or extraordinary Festivals; yet think not that you can bring so important a Rule into Practice, unless you recommend it by your own Example. Furthermore, you must cause the Laws of Minos, concerning the Education of Children, to be inviolably observed: To which purpose, public Schools ought to be erected, where they may be taught to fear the Gods, to love their Country, to reverence the Laws, and to prefer Honour before Pleasures, and Life itself. You must appoint Magistrates to oversee the Families and Manners of private Persons: Nay, oversee them yourself, since you are King; that is, the Shepherd of the People, only to watch Night and day over your Flock. By that means you will prevent a thousand Crimes and Disorders; and what you cannot prevent, you ought to punish at first with great Severity; for 'tis a piece of Clemency, by early and exemplary Punishments, to stem the Tide of Wickedness. A little Blood spilled in time, saves the Lives of Thousands, and makes a Prince feared without using Rigour too often. But what a detestable Maxim is it, to make one's Safety consist in the oppressing of the People? How barbarous is it, not to instruct them; not to lead them into the Path of Virtue; not to do any thing to get their Love; to drive them by Terror to Despair; and finally, to impose this dreadful Necessity upon 'em, either never to breathe in sweet Liberty, or to shake off a Tyrant's Yoke? What Name can one give to such a Government? Is this the Way that leads to Honour? Remember, that where ever the Command of the Prince is most absolute, there the Prince is least powerful. He takes all, consumes all, and enjoys alone the whole State; but then the whole State is in a languishing Condition; the Country is uncultivated and desolate; the City's decrease, and Trade decays every day. The King, who cannot be a King by himself, and who is only so by his Subjects, annihilates himself by degrees, while he annihilates his People from whom both his Riches and Power are derived; his Kingdom is exhausted of Money and Men, and the loss of these is the greatest and the most irreparable. His despotic Power makes as many Slaves as he has Subjects; they all seem to adore him, whereas they only tremble at his dreadful Looks. But see what will happen at the least Revolution; this monstrous Power, screwed up to a violent Excess, can hold out no longer, she finds no Supplies in the Affections of the People, she has wearied and provoked all the different Ranks of Men in his State, and by that means forces every Member of that Body to sigh with equal earnestness after a Change. At the very first blow which is made at her, the Idol is thrown down, and trampled under Foot: Contempt, Hatred, Fear, Resentment, Distrust; in a word, all the Passions unite themselves against so odious an Authority. The King, who during his vain Prosperity, could find no Man that durst speak the Truth to him, shall not find in his Misfortune any one Man that will either excuse his Follies, or defend him against his Enemies.  
These and the like Discourses of Mentor, having prevailed upon Idomeneus, he presently distributed the waste Lands among the useless Artificers, and put in execution what had been resolved before. And now the Fields which had long been o'erspread with Briars and Thorns, begin to promise plentiful Harvests, and Fruits till then unknown. The Earth opens her Bosom to receive the cutting Ploughshare, and prepares her Riches to recompense the Labour of the Husbandman. Hope revives and smiles on every side: You might see both in the Valleys, and on the Hills, numerous Flocks of Sheep, skipping and bleeting on the Grafs, and great Herds of larger Cattle, which make the high Mountains resound with their Bellow. Those Flocks and Herds fatten in the Fields and Meadows; 'tis Mentor who has found the way to procure them, by advising Idomeneus to exchange with the neighbouring Nations all the superfluous Things, which are now prohibited in Salenta, for those Sheep, Cows, and Oxen, which the Salentines wanted.  
At the same time both the Cities and Villages round about were full of fine sprightly Youths, who for a long time had languished in Misery, and were afraid to marry lest they should aggravate their Woes: But when they saw that Idomeneus began to embrace Sentiments of Humanity, and was willing to become their Father, they were no more afraid of Hunger, nor of the other Plagues with which Heaven afflicts Mankind. There were heard every where great Shouting for Joy; the Shepherds and Ploughmen celebrated the Hymeneal Pleasures in their rural Songs; so that one would have thought, that the God Pan with a Chorus of Satrys, Fauns, and Nymphs danced to the soft sound of the Flute in the Shady Woods. All was peaceful and smiling; but 'twas a moderate Joy; and as those Pleasures served obly to allay the Hardships of daily Labour, so they were more quick, and more sensible. The Old Men surprised to see what they did not so much as hope for, during the long series of their Years, wept through an excess of Joy mixed with Tenderness; and lifting up their trembling Hands towards Heaven: Bless, said they, Bless, Oh! great Jupiter! the King who resembles thee, and is the greatest King thou ever madest. As he is born for the good of Mankind, return him all the good we receive from him. Our Great-grand-sons sprung from those happy Marriages which he encourages, shall be indebted to him, even for their very Birth; and he will truly be the Father of all his Subjects. The young Men and Maidens who married together, expressed their mutual Joys, in singing the Praises of him who was the Fountain of those Joys ' every Mouth, every Heart were continually filled with his Praises. The sight of him was accounted a great Happiness; his absence a Misfortune; and the losing of him, had been the Desolation of all Families.  
Thereupon Idomeneus confessed to Mentor, that he never felt so trus and sensible a Pleasure, as that of being beloved, and making so many People happy. I could not, said he, have believed what I now see: I thought all the Greatness of Princes consisted only in making themselves to be feared; that the rest of Mankind were all made for them: And I looked upon it as a mere Fable, whatever I had heard of those Kings, who were the Delight and Darlings of their People: I now find the Truth of it, but I must relate to you how, from my tenderest Infancy, my Mind was intoxicated with the Authority of Kings, which was the cause of all the Misfortunes of my Life.  
Protesilaus, who is something older than myself, was, of all others, the young Man whom I loved most; his lively and bold Temper suited with my Inclinations; he insinuated himself into my Pleasures and Diversions; flattered all my Passions, and gave me a distrust of another young Man, whom I loved also, and whose Name was Philocles. This Philocles feared the Gods, and had a great Soul, but full of Moderation: He placed Greatness not in raising, but in conquering himself, and doing nothing that's Base and Ungenerous. He told me of my Faults with freedom; and even when he durst not speak to me, his very Looks, and said Countenance, gave me susficiently to understand what he had a mind to reproach me with: I was well enough pleased at first with his Sincerity; and I often assured him, that I would ever hear him in Confidence as long as I lived. To secure me against Flatteries, he told me all I ought to do, to tread in the Footsteps of Minos, and to make my Subjects happy; his Wisdom was not so deep as yours, Oh Mento! but I now find by degrees, that his Maxims were good. The cunning Insinuations of Protesilaus, who was Jealous and full of Ambition, gave me a disgust for Philocles: Philocles being indifferent, and free from towering Thoughts, suffered the other to get the Ascendant, and contented himself with telling me the Truth, when I was willing to hear it; for 'twas my Good, and not my Fortune that he sought. Protesilaus made me insensibly believe, that Philocles was a morose and proud Censurer of all my Actions; who asked no Favours of me, because his Pride would not suffer him to be beholden to me; and that he courted the Reputation of one that is above all Honours that I was able to bestow. He added, that he spoke as freely about my Faults with other People, as he did with myself; that he gave sufficiently to understand, what a small Esteem he had for me; and that his lessening my Reputation, was a Design to open himself a Way to the Throne, by the show of a rigid Virtue. At first I was unwilling to think, that Philocles designed to usurp my Crown; for there is a certain Candour and Ingenuity in true Virtue, which cannot be counterfeited, and which cannot be mistaken, if considered with attention: Yet I begun to grow wary of Philocles' Obstinacy in condemning my Weakness. The soft complaisance of Protesilaus, and his unexhausted Industry in inventing new Pleasures to entertain me, made me feel more impatiently the Austerity of his Rival. In the mean time Protesilaus being vexed that I did not believe all he told me against Philocles, resolved to speak no more to me about him, and to use something stronger than all his Words to persuade me. Take notice how he completed his Treachery. He advised me to give Philocles the Command of the Ships which I sent out to attack those of Carpathia; and to induce me to it, he told me: You know my Commendations cannot be suspected of Partiality: I own he has Courage, and understands the War; he will serve you best of any Man, and I easily forego my Resentments against him, when your Service lies at stake. I was glad to find somuch Honesty and Justice in Protesilaus, whom I had entrusted with the Administration of my Affairs of the greatest importance: I embraced him transported with Joy, and thought myself too happy, in having reposed all my Confidence in a Man, who seemed to be so much above Passion and Interest. But alas! How much Princes are to be pitied! This Man knew me better than I do myself. He knew that Kings are generally distrustful, and unattentive: Distrustful by their continual experience of the Artifice of those corrupt Men that are about them; Unattentive, because they are hurried away by the Torrent of Pleasures, and used to have Men, whose Business it is to make Reflections and Observations for them, without being at the trouble of it themselves. Therefore Protesilaus easily understood that it would be no hard matter for him to make me jealous of a Man who would undoubtedly perform great Actions, especially while his Absence gave him so fair an Opportunity of undermining him.  
Before Philocles put to Sea, he foresaw what was like to befall him. Remember, said he to me, that it shall be no longer in my Power to justify myself; that my Enemy alone shall have your Ear, and that while I expose my Life for your Service, I run the hazard of being recompensed with your Indignation. You are mistaken, said I to him, Protesilaus speaks not of you, as you do of him; nay rather, he commends you, he has a value for you, and thinks you worthy of the most important Employments; if ever he offers to speak against you, he shall lose that Trust I repose in him, therefore fear him not, and only take care to serve me well. He went away, and I must now confess, he left me in a strange disorder: I plainly saw how necessary it was for me to have several Persons to consult with; and that nothing was more prejudicial, either to my Reputation, or the success of my Undertake, than the trusting one single Man. I found that the wise Counsels of Philocles had kept me from committing many dangerous Faults, into which the Haughtiness of Protesilaus would have hurried me. I was sensible that Philocles' Mind was adorned with Honesty and equitable Principles, which I did not find in Protesilaus, whom by this time I had suffered to assume so peremptory a Tone with me, that I was no more able to contradict him almost in any thing. I was weary of being continually betwixt two Men, whom I could not bring to agree together; and this Lassitude and my Weakness made me choose to hazard something at the Expense of my affairs, that I might enjoy myself at liberty. I would have concealed from my very self, the shameful Reason of that Course I had embraced; but that same shameful Reason, which I was afraid to discover, worked secretly in the bottom of my Heart, and was the Motive of all I did. Philocles defeated the Enemy, gained a full Victory, and hastened his Return, in order to prevent the Ill Offices he feared from his Rival; but Protesilaus, who had not yet deceived me, wrote to him, that my Desire was, he should follow his Victory, and make a Descent into the Island of Carpathia; for he persuaded me, I might easily make myself Master of that Island. But he ordered it so, that Philocles wanted many necessary things for his Undertaking; and tied him up with such Orders, as occasioned many Disappointments in the execution of it. In the mean time he made use of a corrupt and treacherous Servant of mine, who observed every thing I did, and acquainted him with it, altho' they seemed to speak seldom to one 〈◊〉 and ever to be at odds. This Servant (Timocrates by Name) came to me one day, and told me as a great Secret, That he had discovered a very dangerous Business. Philocles, said he, designs to make use of your Sea-Forces, to make himself King of the Isle of Carpathia; the Captains of those Troops are his Creatures, and all the Soldiers are corrupted by his Donatives, and much more by the pernicious Licentiousness which he allows in them. He is elevated with his Victory; here is a Letter he writ to one of his Friends, about his Project of making himself King; so evident a Proof puts the Thing out of all doubt. I perused the Letter, which seemed to be writ by Philocles; for Protesilaus and Timocrates, who made this Forgery, had perfectly imitated his Hand. That Letter cast me into a strange surprise; I read it over and over, and could not be persuaded it was writ by Philocles, whilst I reviewed in my distracted Mind, all the sensible Demonstratious he had given me of his 〈◊〉 he had given me of his Dsinterestedness and Honesty. However, what could I do? How could I contradict a Letter, which I acknowledged to be Philocles' Hand? When 〈◊〉 perceived I could no longer resist his Artifice, he still carried it on further: Shall I dare, said he to me, with a 〈◊〉 Voice, to put you in mind of a Word in this Letter? Philocles tells his Friends, that he may speak in confidence to Protesilaus, about a thing which he only marks by a cipher: Certainly Protesilaus must be privy to the Design of Philocles; 'tis Protesilaus who pressed you to send Philocles against the Carpathians; from a certain time he speaks no more to you against him as he used to do; nay, on the contrary, he cries him up, he encourages him upon all occasions, and they often pay one another civil Visits. Without doubt Protesilaus has taken his Measures with Philocles, in order to share with him the Conquest of Carpathia: You may see yourself how he put you upon this Enterprise against all Reason, and cares not to expose all your Naval Forces, to gratify his Ambition. Do you think he would thus be subservient to Philocles towering Thoughts, if they were still at odds? No, no; there's no question, but those two Men are reconciled, and have joined Interests to ascend the Throne together; nay, perhaps to dispossess you of your own. I know, by speaking thus freely to you, I expose myself to their Resentment, if, not withstanding my sincere Information, you still leave your Authority in their Hands; But what care I, as long as I tell you nothing but Truth?  
These last Words of Timocrates left a deep Impression in me: I called no more Philocles' Treachery into question, and begun to distrust Protesilaus, as one that was his Friend. In the mean time Timocrates told me continually, if you stay till Philocles has made himself Master of the Isle of Carpathia, it will then be too late to put a stop to his Designs; therefore make haste to secure him whilst he is yet in your Power. I shook with horror at the deep Dissimulation of Men, and knew no more whom to trust; for having discovered Philocles' Treachery, I did not see one Man upon the face of the whole Earth, whose Virtue was able to dispel my Fears. I was resolved to punish that perfidious Man without delay; but I was afraid of Protesilaus, and knew not what Measures to keep with him: I feared to find him guilty, and likewise I feared to trust him. At last, being in this disorder, I could not forbear telling him that I was grown Jealous of Philocles. He seemed surprised at it, and represented to me how honest, upright, and moderate his Conduct had been; he exaggerated his Services; in short, he managed the Matter so well, that I was persuaded of their Intelligence. On the other side, Timocrates improved every Circumstance to make me sensible of their good Understanding, and induce me to ruin Philocles, while it was yet in my Power to secure him. Mark, dear Mentor! mark the Unhappiness of Princes, and how they are exposed to be made the Property of other Men, even when they lie trembling at their Feet. I thought it was a piece of deep Policy, to break Protesilaus' Measures, sending privately Timocrates to the Fleet with Orders to dispatch Philocles out of the way. Protesilaus carried on his Dissembling to the last, and deceived me so much the better, as he looked like one who suffers himself to be deceived. Timocrates put to Sea, and found Philocles hard put to it at the intended Descent: He wanted every thing; for Protesilaus not knowing whether the supposed Letter was sufficient to ruin his Enemy, contrived at the same time another Plot, to wit, the ill success of an Enterprise which he had so much cried up, and which would not fail to provoke me against Philocles. This innocent Man maintained so difficult a War by his Courage, his Policy, and the Affection the Soldiers had for him. Although all the Army was sensible that this Descent was rashly undertaken, and would prove fatal to the Cretans; yet all endeavoured to carry it on, as if their Lives and Happiness had depended upon the success of it; and every one was contented to venture his Life upon all Occasions under so wise a General, and one who always studied to make himself beloved. Timocrates exposed himself to an eminent Danger, by attempting to make away with that Chief, in the middle of an Army who loved him so passionately; but being blinded by Ambition, he found nothing difficult whilst he endeavoured to please Protesilaus, with whom he expected to share the absolute Management of Affairs after the death of Philocles. Protesilaus could not endure a good Man, whose very sight secretly reproached him with his Crimes; and who, by opening my Eyes, might frustrate all his ambitious Designs. Timocrates engaged two Captains who were continually near Philocles' Person, and promised them great Rewards from me: Afterwards he told Philocles, That he came to deliver to him a secret Message from me, which he was ordered not to disclose but in the Presence of those two Captains. Philocles having locked himself in with them, Timocrates pulled out a Dagger and stabbed him; but, as Fortune ordered it, the Blow was slanting, and did not go deep. Philocles, with undauneed Courage, wrested the Dagger out of his Hand, and used it against him, and the other two: At the same time he cried out for help; those without run to the Door, and having broke it open, disengaged Philocles from the Hands of those three Men, who being presently disordered, had attacked him but faintly. They were disarmed and seized; and such was the Fury and Indignation of the Army, that they would have torn them in pieces in an instant, had not Philocles stopped the Multitude. Afterwards he took Timocrates aside, and asked him calmly, Who had engaged him to commit so black a Deed? Timocrates, who feared Death, showed him instantly the Order I gave him in writing to dispatch Philocles; and as all Traitors are Cowards, he bethought himself of saving his Life by revealing to Philocles Protesilaus' Treachery. Philocles amazed and frighted to find so much Malice in Men, followed a wise Resolution; he declared to the Army, That Timocrates was innocent; and having secured him from their Violence, sent him back to Crete. Afterwards he resigned the Command of the Army to Polimenes, whom I appointed in my written Order, to Command after Philocles was killed. Last of all he exhorted the Troops to remain faithful to their Duty to me, and in the Nighttime went over to the Isle of Samos in a small Bark. There he lives retired in peaceful Poverty, making Statues to get his Sustenance, and abhorring to hear any Body speak of unjust and treacherous Men, especially Princes, who of all Mortals are the most unhappy and most blind. At these words, Mentor stopping Idomeneus, Well, said he, Was it long before you discovered the Truth? No, answered Idomeneus; I found out by degrees the Artifices of Protesilaus and Timocrates: They fell out a little while after; for wicked Men are seldom long united. By their Division, I perceived the Abyss into which they had precipitated me. Well, said Mentor, did you not then resolve to rid yourself of either of them? Alas! Dear Mentor, are you ignorant how weak and perplexed Princes are? When they have once given up themselves to Men who have the Art of making themselves necessary, they can no longer hope for Liberty. Those whom they despise most, are those whom they use best, and on whom they bestow their Favours; I abhorred Protesilaus, and yet I left all my Authority in his Hands. Oh! unaccountable Illusion! I was pleased with myself, because I knew him, but my Weakness would not suffer me to re-take my Power from him. Besides, I found him easy, complaisant, industrious in gratifying my Passions, zealous for my Service; in short, I found Reasons to excuse my Weakness to myself. My being unacquainted with true Virtue, (for want of choosing good Ministers to manage my Affairs) made me believe there was no such thing on Earth, and that Honesty was but a mere Chimaera. Why, said I to myself, should I be at the Pains of getting out of the Hands of one corrupt Man, to fall into those of another, who shall be neither more free from Self-Interest, nor more sincere than he?  
In the mean time the Fleet commanded by Polimenes, returned: I laid aside the Thoughts of conquering the Island of Carpathia; and Protesilaus could not dissemble so well, but that I did discover how much he was vexed to hear that Philocles was safe in the Isle of Samos. Mentor interrupted Idomeneus once more, and asked him, Whether after so black a Treachery, he had continued Protesilaus in the Administration of his Affairs? I was, answered Idomeneus, too great an Enemy to Business, and too much distracted by Pleasures, as to be able to get out of his Hands. I must have broke the Method I had established for my own Ease, and given Instructions to a new Minister; this I had not the Resolution to undertake, and so I chose to wink at the Artifices of Protesilaus; only I comforted myself, with letting some of my intimate Friends understand, that I was not unacquainted with his Dishonesty. Thus I thought I was cheated but by halves, as long as I knew I was cheated. Nay, I now and then made Protesilaus sensible of my being uneasy under his Yoke; I was often pleased in contradicting him, in blaming publicly some of his Actions, and in deciding Matters against his Opinion; but being acquainted with my Supinity and Sloth, he was little troubled at my Disgusts, and pursued his Point with Obstinacy. Sometimes he used pressing, imperious Ways, and sometimes supple and fawning Insinuations. But chiefly when he perceived I was angry with him, he redoubled his Endeavours to furnish me with new Amusements which he thought might soften me, or engage me in some Affair, wherein he might be necessary, and make his Zeal for my Reputation appear: And, tho' I stood upon my Guard against him, yet this way of flattering my Passions, did daily ensnare me. He knew all my Secrets, he comforted me in my Troubles: He made the whole Nation tremble by the Power he usurped from me: In fine, I could not think of ruining him, but rather of maintaining him in his Post; I put all honest Men out of capacity of showing me my true Interest; and after that very moment no Man durst freely give me his Advice. All Truth was fled far from me; but Error, which is the forerunner of the fall of Princes, stared me in the Face, and I plainly saw how much I was to blame to sacrifice Philocles to the cruel Ambition of Protesilaus: Those very Men who were most zealous for the Government, and my Person, did not think themselves obliged to undeceive me. After so dreadful an Example, I myself, dear Mentor, was afraid lest Truth should pierce through the Cloud, and reach my sight in spite of all my Flatterers; for wanting Resolution to follow it, its Light became troublesome to me; and I was sensible that it would have raised cruel Remorses within me, without freeing me from so fatal an Engagement. My Easiness, and the Ascendent which Protesilaus had gained over me, made me almost despair of ever recovering my Liberty. I was unwilling either to behold my wretched State, or to discover it to others; for you know, dear Mentor, that the vain Pride and false Glory, wherein Princes are brought up, will not suffer 'em ever to be in the wrong. To palliate a Fault, they make a hundred; rather than own they have been deceived, and give themselves the trouble of forsaking their Error, they'll suffer themselves to be deceived all their Lives long. This is the State of weak and inadvertent Princes; and it was exactly my own. When it was absolutely necessary that I should go to the Siege of Troy, at my departure I left Protesilaus my chief Minister of State, who in my absence ruled with Haughtiness and Inhumanity: The whole Kingdom of Crete groaned under his Tyranny; but no body durst tell me how the People were oppressed: They knew that I was afraid to know the Truth, and that I left all those to the Cruelty of Protesilaus, who durst attempt to speak against him. But the more it was concealed, the more violent was the Evil. He constrained me to throw off the valiant Merione, who had followed me with so much Honour to the Siege of Troy. At my return he grew jealous of him and of all those whom I loved, and in whom appearded any sign of Virtue. You must know, my dear Mentor, that thence all my Misfortunes had their rise. 'Twas not so much the death of my Son that caused the Cretans to revolt, as the Vengeance of the Gods irritated against my Weakness, and the Hatred of the People which Protesilaus had drawn upon me: When I spilt the Blood of my Son, the Cretans, now weary of a rigorous Government, had lost all Patience, and the horror of this Action did only openly show what had long lain hidden in the bottom of their Hearts. Timocrates followed me to the Siege of Troy, and by private Letters gave Protesilaus an account of all that he could pry into. I plainly perceived that I was in slavery, but I endeavoured not to think of it, despairing to remedy it. When the Cretans revolted at my Arrival, Protesilaus and Timocrates were the first who fled; and had doubtless left me, had I not been obliged to fly almost as soon as they. Know, my dear Mentor, that insolent Men in the time of Prosperity are ever weak, and in disgrace; they grow giddy and faint-hearted as soon as ever absolute Power forsakes 'em; they are then as abject as they are haughty, and, in one moment, they pass from one extreme to another.  
Said Mentor to Idomeneus, But how comes it then, that knowing these two wicked Men to the very bottom, you should still entertain 'em near you, as I see you do? I dont wonder that they followed you, since they could do no otherwise for their own safety; and I believe that you have been so generous as to give 'em a Refuge in your new Settlement; but why will you again betray yourself to 'em after such dear experience of'em? You don't know, said Idomeneus, how useless all Experiences are to easy and inadvertent Princes, who live without Reflection; they are discontented with every Thing, and yet have not the Courage to redress any Thing. The Habit of so many Years continuance, is as so many Iron-Fetters that chained me to these tow Men; they beset me every Hour; and since I have been here, they have put me upon all these excessive Expenses that you see: They have lost this growing State; they drew this War upon me, which had inevitably ruined me without you; I should soon have found the same Misfortunes at Salenta that I felt in Crete; but you have at last opened my Eyes, and you have inspired me with the Courage which I wanted to throw off this Slavery: I dont know what you have wrought within me, but since you have been here, I find myself quite another Man.  
Mentor then asked Idomeneus how Protesilaus had behaved himself in this change of Affairs. No Man with more artifice, replied Idomeneus, since your arrival here: He has not omitted the least occasion to fill any Soul with unjust Suspicions. 'Tis true he said nothing against you, but several others buzzed in my Ears that these two Strangers ought to be narrowly inspected: One of 'em, said he, is the Son of the grand Deceiver Ulysses, and t'other is a decrepit Man, and of deep Thought; they are used to wander about from Kingdom to Kingdom, and who knows but they have hatched some Design against this? These great Adventurers relate themselves that they have caused great Troubles in all the Countries they have passed through; and ours is but a growing State, and scarce yet settled, so that the least Commotion may overturn it. Protesilaus said nothing, but he endeavoured to make me perceive the Danger and Extravagance of all these Reformations that you make me attempt: He attacked me with my own proper Interest: If, said he, you let the People live in plenty, they'll work no more, but will grow Fierce, Indocile, and ever ready to Revolt; 'tis only Weakness and Misery that makes 'em humble, and that hinders 'em from disturbing the Government: He has often endeavoured to resume his former Authority, to hurry me away, covering it with your desire of easing the pretence of his Zeal to serve me. The People, said he, derogate from the Regal Power, and by that you will do the People themsemlves an irreparable Injury. For there is a necessity that they should always be kept low for their own quiet and safety. To all which I answered, That I knew how to keep the People in their Duty to me, by making myself beloved by 'em, and not remit any thing of my Prerogative, tho' I did ease 'em: In short, by giving the Children good Education, and an exact Discipline to all the People, to keep 'em in a plain course of life, sober and laborious. How! said I, are not the People to be kept in subjection without starving'em to death? What Inhumanity is this! what brutish Policy! How many People do we see governed with a gentle hand, and yet Loyal to their Princes? That which causes Revolts is the Ambition and Restlessness of the Grandees of a State, when once they have got too great a Liberty, suffering their Passions to pass all due Bounds. 'Tis the multitude of great and little, who live at Ease, in Luxury, and in Laziness: 'tis the too great abundance of Military Men, who have neglected all useful Employments, which they should take upon'em in the time of Peace: In short, 'tis the Despair of a People ill-treated; 'tis the Severity, the Haughtiness of Princes, and their Indulgence of themselves, that makes 'em uncapable of watching over every Member of the State to prevent any Truoble. See here now what causes Revolts? 'Tis not the Bread which the Labourer is suffered to eat in Peace, after he has got it by the Sweat of his Brow. When Protesilaus saw that I was unshaken in these Maxims, he took a quite contrary course to his former practices, and began to observe those Maxims he could not destroy: He seemed to Relish 'em, to be convinced by 'em, and to own himself obliged to me for making 'em so obvious to him; and obviates all my Wishes to ease the Poor: He is the first that represents their Grievances to me, and that cries out against extravagant Expenses; you know yourself he praises you, that he seems to have great confidence in you, and that he omits nothing that may please you. Timocrates indeed, begins not to stand so well with Protesilaus, and thinks to be independent on any body but himself: Protesilaus is jealous of him, and it is partly through their difference that I have discovered their perfidy.  
Mentor smiling, replied thus to Idomeneus: What then if you have been so weak as even to suffer yourself to be tyrannised over for so many Years, by two Traitors, whose Treasons you were acquainted with? Alas! (cried Idomeneus) you do not know what Men of Artifice can work on a weak Prince, who has delivered himself up to them, in the management of all his Affairs. I told you besides, that nevertheless Protesilaus approves all the Projects for the Public good. Mentor resumed the Discourse with a great deal of gravity, and said, I see but too well how much the Wicked prevail against the Good, especially among Princes, of which you are a sad Example: But you tell me, I have opened your Eyes as to Protesilaus, and yet they are so far shut, as to leave the management of the Government to this Man who is unworthy to live. Know, that wicked Men are not uncapable of doing good; 'tis equally the same thing to them as to do ill, when they can serve their Ambition. It costs 'em nothing to do ill; because no thought of Goodness, nor any Principle of Virtue does restrain 'em; but just so they do well, because the Corruption of their Nature leads 'em to it, that they may seem good, so to deceive the rest of Mankind. To speak properly, they are not capable of Virtue, tho' they seem to act by its Principles; but they are capable of adding to all other Vices the most horrible of all Vices, which is Hypocrisy. As long as you steadfastly resolve to do good, Protesilaus will be ready to do good with you, to preserve his Authority; but if he perceives the least lapse from it in you, he will forget nothing that may make you fall again into your Errors, and freely to resume his natural Deceit and Ferocity. Can you live in Honour and Quiet as long as such a Man haunts you Day and Night, and as long as you know the faithful Philocles, poor and disgraced in the Isle of Samos? O Idomeneus! you know well enough, that the Bold and Deceitful Men, when present, ensnare weak Princes: And you ought to add, That Princes have yet another Unhappiness no whit inferior, which is, easily to forget Virtue, and the Services of a Man at a distance. The Multitude of Men who crowd on Princes, is the Reason that there is not one among 'em who can make any deep impression on them; they are not touched but by what is present, and by that which flatters 'em; all the rest is soon defaced. Upon the whole, Virtue touches 'em but little; because, Virtue, far from flattering 'em, contradicts 'em, and condemns their weakness in them. Can we wonder that they are not beloved, when they do not deserve it, and love nothing but their Greatness and Pleasures?  
After having thus spoken, Mentor persuaded Idomeneus, that he should turn out Protesilaus and Timocrates, and recall Philocles. That which most stuck with the King as to this was, That he feared the Severity of Philocles. I must confess, said he, I cannot choose but be a little fearful of his return, tho' I love and esteem him; but I have ever since my Infancy, been accustomed to be praised. to Courtship, and to Complainsance, which I cannot hope to find from this Man. Whenever I did any thing that he disliked, his sorrowful Countenance sufficiently assured me that he condemned me. When he was in private with me, his Maxims were full of respect and moderation, but harsh.  
Don't you see, said Mentor, that Princes who are spoiled by Flattery, think every thing harsh and austere that is free and ingenuous; they are grown so nice, that every thing that is not Flattery offends and provokes 'em. But let us go yet a little further: I grant that Philocles is really Harsh and Austere; but is not his Austerity better than the pernicious Flattery of your Counsellors? Where will you find a Man without Faults? And ought not you to fear the Fault of one who tells you the Truth a little too freely? What do I say? Is not this a Fault necessary to the Correction of yours, and to cure the loathing of Truth which Flattery has begot in you? You want a Man who loves nothing but Truth, and who loves you better than you know how to love yourself; who dare, and will tell you unpleasing Truths; who will press upon all your Retirements; and this necessary Man is Philocles. Remember that Prince is too happy, when but only one Man of such greatness of Mind is Born in his Reign, who is the most valuable Treasure of his Kingdom; and that the greatest Punishment he ought to fear from the Gods, is to be deprived of him, if he renders himself unworthy, for want of knowing how to make use of him. As to the Faults of Good Men, he ought to be acquainted with 'em, and nevertheless make use of their Service: Redress those Faults, deliver not yourself blindly up to their indiscreet Zeal, but favourably hear 'em; honour their Virtue; show the Public that you know how to distinguish it; and above all, take great care that you be not like those Princes, who only despising corrupt Men, do not however fail to employ and intrust 'em, and to heap kindnesses on 'em; and who pretending to know virtuous Men, give 'em nothing but empty Praises, not desiring to trust 'em in any Employments, nor to admit 'em into their familiar Conversation, nor to bestow any Favours on them. Idomeneus than owned, that he was ashamed he had so long delayed the deliverance of oppressed Innocence, and the Punishment of those who had abused him: Immediately therefore he gave private Orders to Hegesippus, who was one of the principal Officers of the Household, to seize Protesilaus and Timocrates, and to carry 'em guarded to the Isle of Samos, and to leave 'em there, and to bring back Philocles from that place of Exile. Hegesippus, surprised at these Orders, could not forbear weeping for Joy. 'Tis now this moment, said he to the King, that you are going to charm your Subjects: For these two Men have caused all your Misfortunes as well as those of your People: These Twenty Years have all good Men groaned under 'em; and 'twas dangerous too to be heard to groan; so cruel is their Tyranny, they oppress all those who endeavour to go to you by any other way but by them. Afterwards Hegesippus discovered a great many Treacheries and Acts of Inhumanity, committed by these two Men, of which the King never had Information before, because no body durst accuse 'em: He gave him besides, an Account of what he had discovered of a Conspiracy against Mentor. The King heard all with Horror; in the mean while Hegesippus hastened to go take Protesilaus in his House: It was not so large, nor so commodious, nor so pleasant as the King's, but the Architecture was of a better Model; and Protesilaus had adorned it with a great deal of Cost, drawn from the Blood of those whom he had made miserable. Protesilaus was at that time in a Parlour of Marble near his Baths, lying carelessly on a Bed of Purple, embroidered with Gold: He seemed weary and spent with his Labours: His Eyes and Eyebrows discovered an unusual kind of disorder, and sullen Wildness: The Chief of the Kingdom sat ranged about him on Carpets, and composed their Looks to those of Protesilaus, which they observed, even to the twinkling of an Eye: Scarce could he open his Mouth, ere all of them were ready to extol with Admiration what he was going to say. One of the principal of the Company repeated to him with ridiculous Exaggerations, what he had done for the King. Another told him that Jupiter having deceived his Mother, gave Life to him, and that he was Son to the Father of the Gods. Among the rest a Poet sung Verses to him, wherein he recited that Protesilaus being Instructed by the Muses, equalled Apollo in every performance of Wit; another Poet more Fawning and Impudent, called him in his Verses the Inventor of the Liberal Sciences, and the Father of the People, whom he made happy; and described him holding the Horn of Plenty in his Hand. Protesilaus harkened to these Praises with a surly Look, distorted and disdainful, like one who knows well enough that he deserves them, and yet far greater, and who condescends too much in suffering himself to be praised. There was another Flatterer who took the liberty to tell him in his Ear some pleasant Thing against the Regulations Mentor endeavoured to establish, at which Protesilaus smiled; and then the whole Assembly fell a Laughing, though the greatest part could not yet know what was said; but Protesilaus resuming his severe and haughty Air, every one of 'em put on their former dread, and became Silent. These Noblemen often watched the happy Opportunity when Protesilaus would cast his Eye towards 'em and hear 'em, appearing mute and disordered, because they had some Favours to beg of him: Their dejected Postures spoke for 'em, and they seemed as submissive as a Mother at the foot of an Altar, when she begs of the Gods that her only Son may be restored to his Health. Every one appeared contented, full of Tenderness and Admiration of Protesilaus, though they all had entertained an implacable hatred of him in their Hearts. In this very Moment enters Hegesippus, seizes his Sword, and tells him that he is come to carry him to the Isle of Samos. At these Words, all the Loftiness of Protesilaus fell down like a Rock that breaks off from the top of a sharp-pointed Mountain: Now he throws himself trembling at the Feet of Hegesippus; he cries, he falters, he stammers, he quakes, he embraces the Knees of this Man, whom not an Hour since he would not vouchsafe to Honour so much as with a Look: All those who had but just now Worshipped him, seeing him irrecoverably lost, turned their Flatteries into bitter and pitiless Mockeries; and Hegesippus would not allow him so much time as either, to take his last Farewell of his Wife and Family, or to fetch some private Writings; but all were seized and carried to the King. At the same time too Timocrates was Arrested, to his great Amazement; for having fallen out with Protesilaus he thought he could not be involved in his Ruin. They set out then in a Vessel prepared for that purpose, and arrived at Samos, where Hegesippus left these two miserable Wretches, and to complete their Misery he left 'em together. There, with the greatest Rage, they reproached one another with the Crimes they had committed, which now were the cause of their Fall. They were now past hope of ever seeing Salenta more, condemned to live far from their Wives and Children, I can't say far from their Friends; for they had none. They were then in an unknown Land, where they had no means of Living but by their Labour: They who had passed so many Years in Delicacies and Pride, were now, like wild Beasts, always ready to tear one another a Pieces.  
In the mean time Hegesippus enquired in what part of the Isle Philocles dwelled: He was told that he lived a great way from the Town upon a Mountain, where a Cave served him for an House. All the Inhabitants spoke to him with Admiration of this Stranger: Never since he has been in this Isle, said they to him, has he offended any Body. Every Man wonders at his Patience, his Labour and Peace of Mind; since, having nothing, he seems always Contented; and though he be here far from Business, without Wealth and without Authority, he ceases not however to oblige those who deserve it, and finds a Thousand ways to do all his Neighbours some Service.  
Hegesippus went up towards this Grotto, which he found empty and and open; for the Poverty and plain Manners of Philocles, obliged him to no necessity of shutting his Door when he went out. A Matt of Rushes served him instead of a Bed: He seldom kindled a Fire, because he never eat any Thing dressed: All the Summer he lived upon Fruits newly gathered; and in the Winter upon Dates and dry Figs. A clear Spring of Water distilling from a Rock, served to quench his Thirst. He had nothing in his Grotto but Instruments necessary for Carving, and some few Books which he read at certain Hours; not to adorn his Mind, nor to satisfy his Curiosity, but to instruct him at his spare Hours, and to learn to be Good. He applied himself to this Art, only to exercise his Body, and to get a Livelihood, that he might not be beholding to any Person. Hegesippus entering the Grotto, could not but admire the Works that he had begun; he observed a Jupiter, whose serene Countenance was so full of Majesty, that he might easily be known for the Father of the Gods and Men; on another side appeared Mars with a dreadful and menacing Fierceness: But what was most livelily represented, was a Minerva, who gave Life to these Arts; her Countenance was noble and sweet, her Port lofty and free; she was in a Posture so nearly imitating Life, that one might believe that she would immediately Walk. Hegesippus having delighted himself with the sight of these Statues, came out of the Grotto, and at some distance off, under a large Tree, he saw Philocles Reading on the Grass. He went directly towards him; and Philocles who perceived him, knew not what to think. Is not that Hegesippus there, said he to himself, with whom I lived so long in Crete? But what should cause him to come to an Island so far distant? Perhaps 'tis his Ghost that after his Death comes from the Stygian Banks. Whilst he was thus doubting, Hegesippus came so near him, that he could not choose but know him again and embrace him. Is it then indeed you, my dear and old Friend? What Danger, what Tempest has thrown you on this Shoar? Why did you leave the Island of Crete? Is it a Disgrace like mine, which has forced you from your Country to our side? Hegesippus answered him, 'tis no Disgrace; but, on the contrary, the Kindness of Heaven that has brought me hither. Then presently he recounted to him the long Tyranny of Protesilaus and Timocrates, the Misfortunes into which they had precipitated Idomeneus, the Fall of that Prince, his Flight to the Coasts of Hesperia, the Founding of Salenta, the arrival of Mentor and Telemachus, the wise Maxims with which Mentor had inspired the King, and the Disgrace of those two Traitors; adding, that he had brought 'em to Samos, to suffer the same Banishment there, which they had caused Philocles to undergo, and so finished his Discourse in telling him that he was commanded to bring him to Salenta; where the King, who knew his Innocence, would trust the management of his Affairs to him, and heap Riches on him.  
Do you see this Cave, said Philocles to him, fitter to hide wild Beasts, than to be inhabited by Men? Here I have tasted for these many Years past, more Sweetness and Repose than ever I did in the gilded Palaces of the Island of Crete. Man deceives me no more, for I Converse with no Man; I hear no more their flattering and poisoning Discourses; I have no more need of 'em. My Hands inur'd to Labour, give me a wholesome Nourishment, sufficient and necessary; I need no more than this slight Stuff that you see, to cover me; I have no other Want; I enjoy an undisturbed Rest and a sweet Freedom, of which the Wisdom in my Books teach me to make a good use. What should I go to seek again among suspicious, deceitful and inconstant Men? No, no, my dear Hegesippus, envy not my good Fortune. Protesilaus has betrayed himself, designing to betray the King, and to ruin me; but, believe me, he has done me no hurt at all: On the contrary he has done me the greatest Kindness; he has delivered me from the noise and slavery of Business; to him I owe my dear Solitude, and all the innocent Pleasures that I have enjoyed here. Return, Hegesippus! Return to the King, help him to Support the Miseries of Greatness, and do for him what you would have me do. Since his Eyes, so long shut against Virtue, have at last been opened by this wise Man whom you call Mentor; let the King keep him near him. It is dangerous for me after my Shipwreck to quit the Port into which the Tempest had so happily driven me, and to trust myself again to the Mercy of the Winds. Ah! How much are Kings to be pitied. Ah! How ought they to be pitied who serve 'em! If they are Wicked, how many Men suffer by 'em; and what Torments are prepared for 'em in the darkest Hell? If they are Good, how many Difficulties have they to overcome! How many Snares to avoid! What Ills to suffer!— Once more my dear Hegesippus, leave me in my happy Poverty!—  
While Philocles was thus speaking with a great deal of earnestness, Hegesippus beheld him with astonishment; he had seen him formerly in Crete, during the time he administered the greatest Affairs of State, lean, languid, and almost spent, his natural Ardour and Austerity wasting through Care and Pains: He could not see Vice unpunished without the greatest Concern: He would have Affairs managed with such an Exactness as is never known; and thus his great Employments destroyed his weak Constitution: But at Samos, Hegesippus found him plump and vigorous, for all his Age; his flourishing Youth seemed renewed in his Face; a temperate, quiet, and laborous Life had, as it were, given him a new Constitution. You are surprised to see me so altered, said Philocles, then smiling; but know, 'tis my Retreat has thus renewed and restored me to perfect Health. My Enemies have given me what I could never find in the greatest of my Fortunes: Would you have me then lose the true Good, to pursue the false, and plunge myself again into my former Miseries? Ah! I beseech you, be not more Cruel than Protesilaus! At least, envy me not the Happiness that I owe to him!  
Hegesippus then urged to him, but in vain, all that he thought might move him. Are you then insensible, said he to him, of the Pleasure of seeing your Friends and Relations, who wish and sigh for your Return, and whom the hope alone of embracing you over-whelms with Joy? You, who revere the Gods, and who love your Duty, do you think it none to serve King; and to assist him in all the good he designs, in making so many People happy? Is it permitted that a Man should abandon himself to a wild and savage Philosophy, to prefer himself to all the rest of Mankind, and to value his own Quiet more than that of his Fellow-Citizens? If these be not the Reasons, 'twill certainly be thought you do it out of spite, that you will see the King no more; who, if he did design any ill to you, 'twas because he did not then know you. It was not the honest, the just Philocles whom he would have destroyed; no, 'twas a Man quite different from him whom he would have punished: But now he knows you, and does not mistake you for another; he feels all his former Friendship revive in his Heart: He waits for you; at this very moment he opens his Arms to embrace you: He is so impatient, he thinks every Hour a Day: And can you be inexorable to your King, and to all your dearer Friends?  
Philocles, who at first, grew tender at the sight of Hegesippus, re assumed his grave and severe Look, whilst he harkened to this Discourse, firm as a Rock against which the Winds fruitlessly contend, and roaring Billows break themselves; he was still immovable, nor his Prayers nor his Arguments could penetrate his Heart; but in the moment when Hegesippus began to despair to prevail on him, Philocles, having consulted the Gods, found by the Flight of Birds, the Entrails of Victims, and by several Divinations, that he must follow Hegesippus; wherefore he no longer resisted, but prepared to go; but not without regret, that he must leave the Desert where he had passed so many Years. Alas, said he, O my lovely Grotto, must I quit thee! where peaceful Sleep came every Night to release me from the Labours of the Day! Here the Destinies, in the middle of my Poverty, spun golden Days. Here, weeping, he prostrated himself to adore the Nayade who had so long quenched his Thirst with her clear Flood, and all the Nymphs that inhabited the neighbouring Mountains. Echo heard his mournful Farewells, and repeated 'em to all the Deities of the Fields. At last Philocles came to the Town with Hegesippus to embark themselves; not imagining that the miserable Protesilaus, for very shame and anger, would have seen him; but he was mistaken, for ill Men have no shame, and can always submit themselves to the meanest things; Philocles' Modesty concealed him for fear of being seen by this miserable Wretch; fearing, indeed, to heighten his Misfortune by showing him the Prosperity of an Enemy who was going to be raised on his Ruins; but Protesilaus eagerly sought Philocles; he desired he should pity him, and beg of the King that he might return to Salenta: But Philocles was too sincere to promise him to labour for his being recalled; for he knew better than any Man how pernicious his Return would have been: But he spoke very courteously to him, and expressing a great deal of Compassion, endeavoured to comfort him, and exhorted him to appease the angry Gods by a pious Life, and by a magnanimous Patience in his Affliction: And having understood that the King had taken from Protesilaus all his ill-gotten Riches, he promised him two things, which at last he faithfully performed: One was to take care of his Wife and Children, who were at Salenta, exposed to the fury of the Multitude; and t'other was to send to Protesilaus, in this Isle so far distant, some little Supply of Money to alleviate his Misfortunes.  
In the mean time, a fair Wind filled their spreading Sails: Hegesippus, full of impatience, hastens Philocles; and Protesilaus sees 'em embarked; his Eyes are fixed and immovable on the Shore; he pursues the Vessel that cuts the Waves, and which the Wind carries farther and farther each Minute; and when at last he could see 'em no more, reprints the Idea of them in his Mind: In short, raging and vexed, and given over to his own Despair, he tears his Hair, throws himself on the Sand, taxes the Gods with their Severity, and in vain calls on cruel Death to help him; who deaf to his Prayers, will not vouchsafe to deliver him out of so great Miseries; nor has he the Courage to give it himself.  
In the mean while, this Vessel favoured by Neptune and the Winds, soon arrived at Salenta; and as soon as it was told the King, and they were landed at the Port, he ran with Mentor towards Philocles, and kindly embracing him, showed a sensible Concern for having persecuted him with so much Injustice.  
This Reception, far from appearing a Weakness in a Prince, was looked upon by the Salentines, as a great Soul, which raises itself above past Faults, in freely owning 'em in order to repair 'em. Every one wept for joy to see this honest Man again, who loved the People, and to hear the King speak with so much Discretion and Humanity. Philocles received the King's Caresses with great Respect and Modesty, and was very impatient to be out of the Noise and Acclamations of the People: He followed the King to the Palace, where presently Mentor and He were as well acquainted, as if they had lived together all their Lives long, tho' they had never seen one another before: For the Gods, who have denied Eyes to the Wicked to perceive Good, have given Eyes to good Men whereby they know one another. Those who have any Relish of Virtue, can't be together without being united, because they are soon in love with one another. Philocles begged of the King that he might retire to some Solitude near Salenta, where he continued to spend his days in Poverty, as he had lived in Samos. The King and Mentor went daily to see him in his solitary Retreat; where they consulted the Means to strengthen the Laws, and to lay a solid Foundation of Government for the Public Good. The two first and principal things they considered, were the Education of Children, who belong less to their own Parents than to the Commonwealth, said Mentor: They are the Children of the People, whose Hope and Strength they are; and 'tis too late to Correct 'em when they are corrupted; 'tis too little to exclude 'em from Employments, when they have made themselves unworthy of 'em; 'tis therefore much better to prevent the Mischief, than to be forced to punish it. The King, aded he, who is the Father of all his People, is yet more particularly the Father of all the Youth, who are the Flower of the Nation. 'Tis the Blossom that prepares the Fruit; let not the King disdain to watch over 'em, and set Officers to mind the Education of these Children: Let him see that the Laws of Minos be put in Force, which command, That Children be brought up in a contempt of Pain and Death; That Honour be placed in a neglect of Pleasure and Riches; That Injustice, Lying and Effeminacy be accounted Infamous; That from their tender Infancy they be taught to sing the Praises of the Hero's beloved of the Gods, who have bravely merited of their Country, and who have signalised their Courage in Battles: Let the Charms of Music affect their Souls, to soften and purify their Manners: Let 'em learn to be Affectionate to their Friends, fathful to their Allies, respectful to the Nobility, and just even to their Enemies: Let 'em be taught to fear Death and Torments less than the least thing of their Conscience! If Children are betimes inspired with these great Principles, and if they are sweetly insinuated into 'em, they will, doubtless, be inflamed with the Love of Honour and Virtue.  
Mentor added, That it was absolutely necessary to institute Schools to accustom the Youth to hard Exercises of the Body, that they may not learn to grow tender and lazy, which debauches the best Constitution: He farther advised, That there should be Plays and Shows frequently to animate the People; but above all, that they should exercise their Bodies, to make 'em active, supple, and vigorous, adding a Reward to excite Emulation. But what he most desired, and tended chiefly to the encouraging of good Manners, was that the People should marry betimes; and their Parents, without any Prospect of Interest, should leave 'em to choose their Wives, suitable to 'em both in Body and Mind, with whom they might live continually happy.  
The End of the Third Volume.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES.  
PART IU.  
LONDON, Printed for A. and J. Churchill, at the Black-Swan in Pater-Noster-Row. MDCC.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. IV.  
BUT while they were thus laying down the most probable Means to keep their Youth Chaste, Innocent, Laborious, Tractable, and Ambitious of Renown; Philocles, who chiefly delighted in War, said to Mentor, In vain do you employ Youth in all those Exercises, if you suffer them to languish in continual Peace; where they shall neither have Experience in War, nor occasion to show their Valour; by this, you will insensibly weaken the Nation, and soften their Courage: Pleasures will corrupt their Manners, and other warlike Nations will find it no hard matter to vanquish them; and by endeavouring to shun the Evils of War, they will fall into a miserable Servitude.  
Mentor replied, The Evils of War never fail to drain a Nation, and put it in danger of Ruin, even while it is most victorious: With how great advantage soever they begin it; they are never sure to end it, without being exposed to the most tragical Chances of Fortune. Suppose you engage with never so great a superiority of Force; the smallest Mistake, a panic Fear, a Nothing, snatches away the Victory that was already in your Hands, and puts it into those of your Enemies: And tho' you should hold Victory chained in your Camp, you destroy yourself in destroying your Enemies. You dis-people your Country, leave your Ground uncultivated, interrupt Commerce; nay, which is far worse, you weaken your Laws, and suffer Manners to be corrupted. The Youth do not any more apply themselves to Learning; pressing Wants make you give Way to a pernicious Licentiousness among your Troops; Justice, good Order, every-thing suffers in this Confusion. A King who spills the Blood of so money Men, and is the Cause of so many Miseries to acquire a little Glory, or to extend the Limits of his Kingdom, is unworthy of the Glory he hunts after, and deserves to lose that which he possesses, by endeavouring to Usurp what belongs to another.  
But after this manner you must exercise the Courage of a Nation in time of Peace. You have already seen the Exercises of the Body that we have Established; the Prize that excites Emulation, the Maxims of Honour and Virtue, with which we season the Minds of Children, almost from their Cradle, by Songs full of the great Actions of Heroes; add to those Aids that of a sober and laborious Life. But this is not all: As soon as any of your Allies shall be in War, you must send thither the flower of your Youth, chiefly those in whom you shall observe a Warlike Genius, and who are the most likely to profit by Experience: By this means, you shall preserve a high Esteem amongst your Allies; your Friendship shall be Courted, and they shall be afraid to lose it: And without having a War at Home, and at your own Charge, you shall always be provided with a Martial and intrepid Youth. And altho' you yourselves enjoy Peace, cease not to treat respectfully those that are Masters of the Art of War; for the true way to avoid it, and preserve a lasting Peace, is to Cultivate Arms, to Honour Men excellent in that Profession, and to entertain those that are trained up to it in Foreign Parts, and who know the Force, Discipline, and manner of War in Neighbouring Countries. You shall be equally uncapable of making War to gratify your Ambition, and of being afraid of it through Effeminacy: And being in a readiness to undertake it when Necessity obliges, you can easily find means to prevent it. When your Allies make War upon one another, 'twill be your part to become Mediator: And thus you will acquire a Glory far more solid and sure than that of the Conquerors. You shall gain the Love and Esteem of Strangers, they will all of them stand in need of you; you will strengthen your Authority over your Subjects: You shall become the Confident of their Secrets, the Umpire of Treatises, and Master of their Affections. Your Fame shall fly through the most distant Countries, and your Name shall be like a most delicious Perfume, that diffuses itself far and wide. In such a happy State, let a Neighbouring People unjustly attack you, they shall always find you ready to receive them: And what strengthens you still more, they shall find you beloved by all, and succoured by your Neighbours, who will cheerfully Arm themselves for you; being fully persuaded, that the public Security depends on the Preservation of you. This is a Rampart more secure than the strongest Walls, and most regular Fortifications. This is true Glory.  
But how few Kings are there that pursue it? nay rather, how few are there that don't avoid it? They run after a deceitful Shadow, and leave true Honour behind them, because they do not know it. Mentor having thus spoke, Philocles looked upon him with Astonishment; then cast his Eyes on the King: He was charmed to see how greedily Idomeneus sucked into his very Soul, the Stream of Wisdom which flowed from the Mouth of that Stranger. Minerva, in the Shape of Mentor, did thus establish in Salentum, the best Laws, and most useful Maxims of Government; not so much for the Prosperity of the Kingdom of Idomeneus, as to give Telemachus a sensible Example of what a Wise Government may do, to make People Happy, and to secure to a good King a lasting Reputation  
In the mean time, Telemachus gave Proof of his Courage in the Perils of War: And parting from Salentum, made it his chief care to gain the Affection of the Old Captains, who were Men of tried Experience, and established Reputation. Nestor, who had formerly seen him at Pylos, and had always loved Ulysses, treated him as his own Son: He gave him Instructions, enforced with divers Illustrious Examples: He related to him the Adventures of his Youth, and the most remarkable things he had seen performed by the Hero's of the last Age. The Memory of this sage Old Man, who had now seen Three Ages, resembled an History of Ancient Times, deeply engraved on lasting Marble or Brass. Philoctetes, at first, had not the same Affection for Telemachus; the inveterate Hatred which he bore in his Heart against Ulysses, gave him an Aversion to his Son; and it was some uneasiness to perceive how much this Youth seemed to be the Darling of the Gods, who designed to make him equal to those Hero's which had laid Troy in Ashes: But the obliging Behaviour of Telemachus, soon overcame the Resentments of Philoctetes, and irresistibly forced him to love one who was possessed with so much Sweetness and Modesty. He often took Telemachus in his Arms, and said to him: My Son, (for I cannot henceforth forbear calling you so) I must own, your Father and I did bear a mutual Hatred, for a long time against one another; and even after we had brought proud Troy to its fatal Period, my Anger was not assuaged; and though at first sight, I found it hard for me to love you; yet that Sweet and Innocent Virtue, and unaffected Modesty with which you are endued, are not to be resisted. Afterwards Philoctetes told him that he would relate to him what it was that had first kindled his Hatred against Ulysses.  
To begin, says he, my Story a little higher; I accompanied in all his Travels, the great Hercules, who delivered the Earth from so many Monsters; who in respect of other Hero's, was as the lofty Oak amidst the tender Roses, or the Eagle among the little Birds. Both that Hero's Misfortunes and my own, proceeded from a Passion which is the Cause of the most terrible. Disasters, Unhappy Love. Hercules was subdued by that shameful Passion, and became the Spirit of the cruel Boy, Cupid. He could not remember, without Blushing, that formerly forgetting all his Glory, he had been brought even to handle the Distaff with Omphale, Queen of Lydia, as if he had been the Weakest and most Effeminate of all Men. While he was under the Dominion of his blind Passion, a Hundred times has he owned to me, that this Action had quite tainted his Virtue, and almost defaced the Glory of all his Labours. Nevertheless he was caught a second time in the very same Snares that he so much studied to avoid. Had he been constant, he was once too happy in the love of Deianira, his Wife; but too soon the Youth of jola, in whose Face the Graces themselves were painted, did rob him of his Heart. Deianira, burning with Jealousy, bethought her of the fatal Garment that the Centaur Nessus had left her at his Death, as an infallible way to awaken the Affection of Hercules, when he seemed to neglect her, and love another. But alas! this Garment was full of the venomous Blood of the Centaur, and of the Darts which had pierced him; for you know that the Arrows with which Hercules killed the perfidious Monster, had been dipped in the Blood of the Hydra of Lerna, whence they had drawn so strong a Poison, that the Wounds they gave were incurable.  
Hercules having put on this Coat, was quickly sensible of the devouring Fire which penetrated into the Marrow of his Bones. Mount Oeta shook, and the deepest Valleys resounded; the Sea itself seemed troubled at his Groans; which far surpassed the Bellow of the most furious Bulls, in their dreadful Combats. The unhappy Lichas, who had brought him the Garment from Dejanira, venturing to approach him; Hercules in the extremity of his Pain, whirled him round, as one does a Stone in a Sling, which he is to throw a great distance.  
So Lichas being darted from the top of the Mountain by the powerful Arm of Hercules, fell amongst the Waves of the Sea, where he was immediately changed into a Rock, which still retains its Humane shape, and against which the angry Billows beating, frighten from afar the wary Pilot. After the Misfortune of Lichas, I judged it not safe to trust myself to Hercules: I began to think now of hiding myself in the deepest Caverns of the Earth: I observed how easily with one hand he plucked up by the Roots the lofty Firs, and firm-rooted Oaks; which so many Years had despised the most impetuous Storms; and with the other, how he endeavoured to pull off the fatal Garment; but to no purpose; for it was glued to his Skin, and as it were, incorporated with his Members, and whilst he rend it, he tore his Flesh: His Blood flowed in Streams, and moistened the Earth; till at last his Virtue overcoming his Pain, he cried out, Thou seest, my dear Philoctetes, the Evils which the Gods inflict upon me! they are the just punishment of my Offences: I have violated my Conjugal Love: After having subdued so many Enemies, I have basely suffered myself to be overcome by the Love of a beautiful Stranger: I perish, and am pleased that my Ruin will appease the Wrath of the Gods. But alas! my dear Friend, whither dost thou fly? 'Tis true, the extremity of my Pain has made me commit an Act of Cruelty upon the unhappy Lichas, for which I abhor myself. He was ignorant of the Poison which he brought me, and therefore did not deserve what he suffered: But couldst thou believe that I should forget the Friendship I owe thee, or that I would take away thy Life? No sure, I shall never cease to love Philoctetes: I will breathe into his Bosom, my departing Soul, and he shall gather my Ashes. Where art thou, than my dear Philoctetes, thou only Hope that is left me here below? At these words I ran towards him, whilst he held out his Arms to embrace me; but he drew them back, for fear he should kindle in my Breast the same raging Flame, with which himself was burnt up. Alas! says he, I dare not embrace thee; the last Consolation is denied me. While he thus spoke, he gathered together the Trees that he had plucked up, and erected them into a Funeral Pile, upon the top of the Mountain, which he calmly ascended; he spreads the Skin of the Nemean Lion, which had so long served him for a Mantle, whilst he travelled from one end of the Earth to the other, to destroy Monsters, and free the Unfortunate: And leaning upon his Club, he desired me to set Fire to the Pile. My trembling Hand could not refuse him this cruel Piece of Service; for his Life was now so miserable, that it could not any more be reckoned the Gift of the Gods: Yea, I was not even without Apprehension, but the excess of his Pain might transport him to do some Action unworthy of that Virtue which had been hitherto the Admiration of all the World. When he saw the Flame begin to Catch, he cried out, Now it is, my dear Philoctetes, that thou hast given me a Proof of thy sincere Friendship; for thou lov'st my Honour more than my Life, and may the Gods reward thee. I bequeath thee what I have most valuable on Earth; These Arrows which were dipped in the Blood of the Hydra of Lerna: Thou knowst that the Wounds they give are incurable; by these thou shalt be invincible, as I have been; nor shall any Mortal ever dare to encounter thee. Remember I Die thy faithful Friend; and if thou art moved at my Misfortunes, thou mayst give me the last Consolation, by promising never to discover my Death, nor the Place where thou hidest my Ashes. I promised him, yea swore it. Whilst I watered the funeral Pile with my Tears, a Beam of Joy appeared darting from his Eyes; but on a sudden he was involved in a touring Flame, which stifled his Voice, and robbed me of the Sight of him: Afterwards I saw him through the Flames, amidst which he appeared with a Countenance as serene, as if it had been crowned with Garlands, and covered with delicious and festival Perfumes in the Company of his Friends. The Fire quickly consumed all that in him was earthly and mortal; so that there remained nothing of what he had received in his Birth from his Mother Alcmene; but by the command of Jupiter, it left untouched that subtle and immortal Substance, that celestial Flame, which is the true Principle of Life, and which he had received from the Father of the Gods; with whom he walked along under the gilded Arches of the glittering Olympus, to drink Nectar: Where they gave him to Wife the lovely Hebe, the Goddess of Youth, who used to fill Nectar to Jupiter, before Ganymede was promoted to that Honour. As for the Arrows he left me, with a Design to raise me above all the Hero's, they have been an inexhaustible Fountain of Mischief; for shortly after this, the confederated Kings had undertaken to revenge Menelaus upon the infamous Paris, for the Rape of Helena; and to overturn the Empire of Priamus. They were informed by the Oracle of Apollo, that they were not to expect a happy Issue of the War, unless they got the Arrows of Hercules. Ulysses, your Father, who was always the most clear sighted and industrious in the Management of all their Designs, took upon him to persuade me to go along with them to the Siege of Troy, and to bring along with me those Arrows, which he believed were in my Possession. 'Twas now a long time since Hercules had disappeared, neither did they talk of any new Exploit of that Hero: Monsters and Villains began now to show their Heads; the Greeks were uncertain what to believe: Some said he was Dead, others, that he was gone under the Northern Bear, to subdue the Segtes; but Ulysses affirmed he was Dead, and undertook to make me own it. He found me out, when as yet I could not comfort myself for the loss of the great Alcides: It was not an easy matter to come at me; for I could not any more endure the Company of Mankind: I would not suffer myself to be torn from the Deserts of Mount Oeta, where I had beheld the last Fate of my dear Friend: There I entertained myself with the Image of that Hero, which was so deeply imprinted on my Mind, and with Weeping at the sight of that melancholy Place, which had been the last Scene of his Life. But soft and powerful Eloquence sat brooding on your Father's Lips; he seemed almost as much afflicted as myself; he shed Tears; he knew how to gain my Heart insensibly, and engage me to confide in him; he begat in me a concern for the Grecian Kings, who were going to Fight in a just Cause, and whose Success depended on me. Yet he could never tear from my Breast the Secret of the Death of Hercules, which I had sworn never to reveal; but taking it for granted, he pressed me to show him the Place where I had hid his Ashes. I was seized with horror at the Thoughts of such Perjury, in revealing a Secret which I had promised to the Gods to conceal for ever. But what I durst not violate, I was tempted to elude; for which the Gods have punished me: I stamped on the Ground with my Foot in the Place where I had hid the Ashes of Hercules. Afterwards I went to join the confederated Kings; who received me with as much Joy as if I had been Hercules himself. Passing through the Isle of Lemnos, I had a mind to show the Greeks an Experiment of what my Arrows could do, and preparing to pierce a do, that was skipping through the Forest, heedlessly I dropped the Arrow, which lighting on my Foot, gave me a Wound which pains me still. Immediately I felt the same Torments which Hercules had suffered: Night and Day I filled the Island with my Groans. Black and corrupted Gore issuing from my Wound, infected the Air, and spread through the Grecian Camp such a Stench as was able to stifle Men of the most vigorous Constitutions. All the Army were seized with Horror at the sight of me, and concluded that it was a Punishment inflicted on me by the Justice of the Gods. Ulysses, who engaged me in this War, was the first that abandoned me: I have been informed since that he did so, because he preferred the common Interest of Greece, and the Victory they so much sought after, to all the Ties of Friendship and private Concerns. It was impossible to Sacrifice in the Camp; so much did the horror and infection of my Wound, and the loudness of my Groans disturb the whole Army: But as soon as I found the Greeks had forsaken me, and that even by the advice of Ulysses; this Artifice seemed to me full of the most barbarous Cruelty and blackest Treachery. Alas, I was blind and did not see that I had deserved to be hated by wise and good Men, as much as by the Gods, whom I had offended. I continued, during this whole Siege of Troy, without help, without hope, or any Thing to ease my Pain: Excessively tormented, in a desert and savage Island, where nothing was to be heard but the noise of Billows breaking upon the Rocks. In this Retirement, I found a hollow Cave within a Rock, which pointed with a double Head towards the Heavens, and afforded a clear and pleasant Spring. This Cave was the usual retreat of wild Beasts, to whose Fury I was exposed Night and Day: My Bed was of Leaves which I had gathered together: All my Utensils were a Wooden-box, coursely wrought; and some tattered clothes, with which I bound up my Wound to stop the Blood, and which I used likewise to clean it: In this Place forsaken of Mankind, and delivered over to the Anger of the Gods, I spent my solitary Hours in darting the Pigeons and other Birds that flew about the Rock: And when I had killed any to satisfy my Hunger, I was forced to crawl along the Ground, with extremity of Pain, to take up my Prey, and with my own Hands to dress it at a Fire I had lighted with a Flint; for the Provisions which the Greeks had left me did not last long. This solitary Life, dreadful as 'twas had seemed pleasant, in so much as it removed me from the Company of base and deceitful Mankind, if I had not been quite overcome with the extremity of my Pain, and the continual remembrance of my last sad Adventure. How! said I, to entice a Man from his Native Country, as the only Person that was capable to revenge the Qrarrel of Greece, and then to leave him in a desert Island asleep; for so I was when the Greeks went away. And you may judge of my Surprise when I awaked, how I wept when I saw their Fleet plough the Deep! Looking about, on all hands, I found nothing but Sorrow in this horrid and descent Island, where there are neither Harbour, Commerce nor Hospitality, nor any that land, but who are driven upon it by Storm: You can hope for no Company but by Shipwreck; and even such durst not carry me along with them, being afraid both of the Anger of the Gods, and of the Greeks. Thus ten Years did I suffer Pain and Hunger, feeding a Wound which devoured me; so that Hope itself was quite extinguished in my Breast. One day having been in quest of Medicinal Plants for my Wound, on a sudden I perceived in my Cave a young Man, handsome, of a graceful, but haughty Mien, and heroic Stature: Methought I saw Achilles; so much did he resemble him in his Features, Look, and Gate; only the difference of Age made me understand it could not be he. I obseved in his Countenance both Pity and Confusion: He was moved with Compassion to see with what trouble and slowness I crawled along: My piercing and doleful Scrieks, which made all the Echoes along the Coast to ring, melted his very Heart. Seeing him at a distance, O Stranger! said I, what Misfortune has brought thee into this Island? I know that Grecian Habit, still so dear to me: O how I long to hear thy Voice, and that Language that drops from thy Lips, which I learned in my Childhood; and for so long a time never could talk to any in this Desert. Be not afraid at the sight of so miserable a Creature, whom thou ought'st rather to pity.  
Neoptolemus had hardly pronounced these words, I am a Greek, when I cried out, O sweet Word, after so many Years of Silence and Sorrow; O my Son, what Misfortune? What Storm, or rather what favourable Wind has brought thee hither, to put an end to my Misery? He answered, I am of the Island of Sciros, whither I am returning; they say I am the Son of Achilles; thou knowst whether it be so or not.  
So short an Account did not satisfy my Curiosity. O Son, said I, of a Father whom I so much loved, the dear Charge of Lycomedes: How camest thou hither, and from whence? He answered me, That he came from the Siege of Troy: Thou were not, said I, in the first Expedition. Then, said he, where wert thou? I answered him, I see thou art ignorant both of the Name and Misfortunes of Philoctetes: Alas, how unhappy am I, my Persecutors insult over me in my Affliction! It increases my Sorrow to think that Greece is ignorant of that which I suffer. The Atrideses have brought me into this Condition, and may the Gods repay them. Afterwards I gave him an Account how the Greeks had left me: As soon as he had heard the Relation of my Misfortunes, he thus began his own. After the death of Achilles, said be, (immediately I stopped him, What! Achilles dead? Pardon me, my Son, if I interrupt your Relation with the Tears I owe your Father.) Neoptolemus answers, In so doing you oblige me: How I am pleased to see Philoctetes bewail my Father! and thus he proceeded: After the death of Achilles, Ulysses and Phenix sought me out, assuring me, that without me they could not overthrow the City of Troy. 'Twas no hard task to persuade me to follow them in this famous War, in which my Grief for the death of Achilles, and a desire to inherit his Glory, did naturally engage me. I no sooner arrived at the Camp, than the Army gathered round about me; every one could have swore that he had seen Achilles; but, alas, he was no more: Young and without Experience, I could promise myself any thing from those who had bestowed on me such large Commendations. Immediately I demanded of the Atrides my Father's Armour; to which they made me this barbarous Reply, Thou shalt have all that belonged to thy Father, except his Armour, which are destined for Ulysses. At this I fell into a most extravagant Passion, my Grief and Anger knew no Bounds; but Ulysses calmly told me, Young Man, thou hast had no share in the Perils of this long Siege, and so cannot deserve such a Reward; thou beginnest too soon to talk haughtily; rest satisfied, thou shalt never have the Armour of Achilles. Thus robbed unjustly by Ulysses, I returned to the Isle of Sciros, less incensed against him than the Atrideses. O Philoctetes, I shall say no more, but may the Gods always befriend their Enemies.  
Then I asked him, how it came that Telemonian Ajax did not hinder such a Piece of Injustice? He is dead, answered he. Dead, said I, and Ulysses lives and prospers! Then I asked him News of Antilochus, the Son of sage Nestor, and Patrocles, the Favourite of Achilles; they are dead too, said he. Then I cried out, alas, What dost thou tell me? Cruel War, it seems, mows down the Good and lets the Bad stand: Ulysses lives, and Thersytes likewise, no doubt. Is this the Justice of the Gods? And must we still continue to praise them? Whilst I fell out in this Passion against your Father, Neoptolemus continued to deceive me, and added these melancholy Words; I am going, says he, to live contented in the desert Island of Seiros, far from the Grecian Army, where Evil prevails above Good: Adieu, I must be gone, may the Gods restore you your Health. Then said I, O my Son, I conjure you by the Ghost of your Father, by your Mother, and by all you hold dearest in this World, not to leave me alone in this miserable Condition. I am not ignorant how troublesome I shall be; but it will be a shameful thing to forsake me: Tie me to the Prow, or the Stern of your Ship; throw me into the Pump, or where I shall incommode you the least. None but great Souls know the Pleasure of being good; don't leave me in a Desert, where there is not the Foot-step of a Man; carry me either to your own Country or to Lybia, which is not far from Mount Oeta, and Trachynium, and the agreeable Banks of Sperchius'. Bring me to my Father; Alas! I fear he's dead. I desired him to send me a Ship; either he's dead, or those that carried the Message have not delivered it: O my Son, thou art my only Relief; remember the Instability of humane Affairs: The Happy aught to succour the Unfortunate, and be afraid to abuse the Prosperity they enjoy. This was the Substance of what the excess of my Grief made me say to Neoptolemus; which made him promise to carry me along with him: Then I cried out, O happy Day; O dear Neoptolemus, worthy of the Glory of such a Father: Dear companions of my happy Voyage, allow me to bid adieu to this melancholy Abode: See where I have lived and imagine what I have suffered: I am sure it is what none else could have endured: But necessity instructed me; Necessity, that teaches Mankind what they would never learn without her. Those that have never suffered, know nothing: They are ignorant both of Good and Evil: they are Strangers to Mankind, and Strangers to themselves. When I had thus spoke, I took my Bow and Arrows; which Neoptolemus dcsired to kiss, being the famous and sacred Arms of the invincible Hercules. I can deny thee nothing, said I; 'tis thou, my Son, that restorest to me my Life, my Country, my decrepit Father, my Friends and myself: Freely touch these Arms and boast, That thou art the only Greek that ever had that Honour. Whilst Neoptolemus entered my Grotto to look on my Arms, I was seized with a cruel Pain; I was quite distracted, and did not know what I did: I asked a Knife to cut off my Foot; I cried out, O Death, so much longed for, Why dost not thou come? O dear Youth, burn me to Ashes, as I did the Son of Jupiter. O Earth, open and receive a dying Wretch, that cannot any more raise himself from thee. 〈◊〉 on a sudden, as I used to do, I fell into a deep Swoon: I was relieved by the Sweat that begun to break out upon me; whilst black and corrupted Gore issued from my Wound. During my Sleep, it had been easy for Neoptolemus to have carried off my Arms; but he was the Son of Achilles, and not born to cheat. When I awaked, I perceived the Confusion he was in; he sighed like one that was not used to dissemble, or act against his Conscience. Wilt thou then surprise me? said I. What is the matter, said he, thou must follow me to the Siege of Troy. Then answered I, what dost thou say? my Son, I am betrayed; Restore me my Bow; don't rob me of that which is dearer to me than my very Life. He made me no return, but looked on me calmly and unconcerned. O ye Banks and Promontories of this desert Island! O ye wild Beasts, and steep Rocks, to you only I can complain; to you, who are accustomed to my Groans: Must I be betrayed by the Son of Achilles! Who robs me of the sacred Bow of Hercules, and would drag me along with him to the Grecian Camp; and does not see that this is only to triumph over a dead Corpse, a Ghost, a Fantom. Would he had attacked me in my Vigour, as now he does basely and by surprise! O Son, show thyself like thy Father, like thyself. What sayest thou? Nothing! O dearest Rock, to thee I return, naked, miserable, forsaken, famished; in this Cave I must pine away, wanting my Bow to kill the wild Beasts for my Food, or to defend me from their Fury. What then? But thou, my Son, who dost not appear to be so wicked, tell me what bushes thee on to so black a Villainy! Restore me my Arms, and get the gone! Then Neoptolemus, with Tears in his Eyes, was muttering to himself, Would to God I had not departed from Sciros! In the mean time I cried out in a surprise, What is it I see! Is not this Ulysses? I knew his Voice. He answered, It is I. If the dark Regions of Pluto had opened, and I had seen the black Tartarus, which the Gods themselves are afraid to behold, I could not have been seized with a greater Horror: I cried out, Witness thou Island of Lemnos! O Sun! dost thou look on and suffer this? Ulysses calmly answered, I execute the Will of Jupiter. Dost thou, said I, name Jupiter? Seest thou there that Youth, who was not born to deceive, and to whom 'tis painful to execute thy perfidious Designs? 'Tis neither to cheat nor hurt thee, said Ulysses, that we come hither; 'tis to deliver thee, to heal thy Wounds, to give thee the Honour of destroying the City of Troy, and to bring thee back to thy own Country; 'tis thyself, and not I, that art the Enemy of Philoctetes. Then did I breathe out against your Father all that my Passion could inspire me with: Since thou left'st me forsaken upon this Shoar, said I, why wilt thou not suffer me to live here in Peace! Go, seek Renown in Battle, and enjoy the Pleasures of Life; thy good Fortune in the company of thy Companions the Atrideses: Don't envy me my Misery and Pain, why would you carry me off? I am nothing, I am already dead. Hast thou not as much reason to believe now as well as formerly, that my Shrieks, and the Infection of my Wound will disturb the Sacrifices? O Ulysses! Author of all my Miseries, May the Gods— But the Gods are deaf; nay, they stir up my Enemy against me. O my Country, which I shall never see again! O ye Gods, if there be any just enough to pity me! Punish Ulysses: Then I shall believe myself Cured of all my Maladies.  
While I thus spoke, your Father calmly looked on me with an Air of Compassion, far from being provoked; he seemed like a Rock upon the top of a Mountain, which sport's itself with the Fury of the Winds; and lets them spend their rage, while it continues immovable. So your Father kept silence till my Rage should be exhausted; for he well knew, that to reduce Men to Reason, we must not attack their Passions, but stay till they are weakened through weariness. O Philoctetes, said he, what has become of your Reason and Courage? Now is the occasion to use it; if you refuse to go along with us, to fulfil the great purposes of Jupiter concerning yourself, farewell; You are unworthy to be the Deliverer of Greece, and the Ruin of Troy: Continue at Lemnos: These Arms which I carry off shall give me the Renown that was destined for you. Neoptolemus, let us be gone, 'tis in vain to speak to him; our Compassion for one single Man, must not make us neglect the safety of all Greece.  
Then methought I was like a Lioness about to be robbed of her Young; who with her roaring, makes the Forests to tremble. O Cave, said I, I shall never quit thee, thou shalt be my Grave! O thou sorrowful Abode! I have now no Hope left me, nor means of Subsistence; Who will give me a Sword to stab myself? O! if the Birds of Prey would devour me, they need not any more dread my Arrows? Oh precious Bow, consecrated by the Hands of the Son of Jupiter! O dear Hercules! art not thou sensible of this Indignity? thy Bow is not any more in the Hands of thy faithful Friend, but in the impure and treacherous Hands of Ulysses. Birds of Prey and wild Beasts, fly no more from this Cave, my Arrows cannot hurt you; come and devour me! Or thou merciless Jupiter, crush me with thy Thunder!  
Your Father having tried all other means of persuasion, at last, thought it better to restore me my Arms, and made a Sign to Neoptolemus to give them back. Then, said I to him, thou showest thyself to be the Son of Achilles. Suffer me to pierce my Enemy to the Heart. And drawing an Arrow against your Father, Neoptolemus stopped my Hand, saying, Anger clouds your Reason, and hinders you from seeing the unworthy action you are going to commit: As for Ulysses, he appeared as unconcerned at my Arrows as at my reproaches. I was sensibly moved with his Courage and Patience, and ashamed for endeavouring, in the transport of my Passion, to kill him with the Weapons, which he had caused to be restored. But as my Resentment was not as yet appeased, I was sorry that I must owe such a Favour to my Enemy. Know, said Neoptolemus, that the Divine Helenus, the Son of Priamus, having come out of the City of Troy, by the Order and inspiration of the Gods, hath unridled the Mysteries of future times. The unhappy Troy, said he, shall fall; but not before it is attacked by him, who keeps the Arrows of Hercules; nor shall that Man ever be healed till he come before its Walls, where the Sons of Esculapius shall Cure him. At that instant I was divided in my Thoughts; I was moved with the Ingenuity of Neoptolemus, and his Honesty in restoring my Bow; but I could not think of submitting to Ulysses; the disgrace of which, kept me in suspense. Must I ever be seen again in the company of Ulysses and the Atrides? What will the World say of me? Whilst I continued in this uncertainty, on a sudden I heard a more than Humane Voice; I saw Hercules in a bright Cloud, encircled with Rays of Glory. I easily knew his Masculine Features, his robust Limbs, and his plain manner; but he appeared with a Stature and Majesty beyond what he had, when he was Conquering Monsters upon Earth. He said to me, 'Tis Hercules whim thou seest and hearest: I have quitted the high Olympus, to make known to thee the Commands of Jupiter: Thou knowst by what Labours I acquired Immortality: Thou must likewise go with the Son of Achilles, to trace my Footsteps in the Path of Renown: Thou shalt be Cured, and with my Arrows thou shalt pieree Paris, the Author of so much Mischief. Thou shalt send the rich Spoils of Troy to thy Father, on Mount Oeta; there they shall be placed upon my Tomb, as a Monument of the Victory owing to my Arrows: And thou, O Son of Achilles! I tell thee, that thou cannot be victorious without Philoctetes, nor Philoctetes without thee: Go then like two Lions who seek their Prey together. I will sent Esculapius to Troy to Cure Philoctetes. Love, and observe Religion; all other things are mortal, but the Fruits of this endure forever.  
When I had heard these Words, I cried out, O happy Day! O sweet Light! that after so many Years dost show thyself at last. I obey; let me salute the Place, and be gone. Adieu, dear Cave, adieu ye Nymphs of these watery Meadows; I shall hear no more the hollow noise of these Billows; adieu thou Shore, where I have so often endured the Injuries of the Wether; adieu ye Hills, where the Echo has so often repeated my Groans; adieu sweet Fountains, yet who to me have been so bitter; adieu Lemnos, favour my Departure, since I go where I am called by the Will of the Gods, and my Friends. So we departed and arrived at the Siege of Troy; where Machaon and Podalyrus, by the Divine Art of their Father Esculapius, did cure me; or at least put me in the Condition you now see me, having recovered my Vigour, tho' I am still somewhat lame. Paris fell by my Hand, as a fearful Fawn, pierced with the Arrows of the Hunter. Ilium was reduced to Ashes; I need say no more, you know the rest. Nevertheless I retained still some aversion to the sage Ulysses, occasioned by the remembrance of the Ills that I had endured; and tho' his Virtue could not appease my Resentment, yet the sight of a Son, who resembles him so much, and whom I am forced to love, softens my Heart towards the Father himself.  
During the Relation of the Adventures of Philoctetes, Telemachus continued immovable; and as 'twere, in suspense, with his Eyes fixed on the great Man that spoke: All the different Passions that moved Hercules, Philoctetes, Ulysses, Neoptolemus, as they were represented, appeared, each in their turn, upon the innocent Countenance of Telemachus: During the Relation, he would sometimes cry out, and interrupt Philoctetes, without thinking; sometimes he would seem thoughtful, and like one concerned for the sequel of some important Affair; whilst Philoctetes was describing the Confusion of Neoptolemus, who could not dissemble; Telemachus seemed to be in the same disorder: And at that Moment you would have took him for Neoptolemus.  
In the mean while, the Confederate Army marched in good Order against Adrastus, King of the Daunians, an impious Fellow despised of the Gods, and a Deceiver of Men. Telemachus found some difficulty how to behave himself among so many Kings, jealous of one another; it behoved him to give none of 'em ground of suspicion, but to gain the Favour of them all: He was of a good and honest Disposition, but not very complaisant: He did not trouble himself much with obliging others; And tho' he was not covetous of Riches, yet did he not care to part with them. Thus with a Noble and Honest Mind, he seemed neither obliging, nor very sensible of Friendship, or the concern others had for him, nor careful to distinguish Merit. He followed his Humour without reflection; in spite of Mentor, his Mother Penelope had brought him up in Pride and Haughtiness of temper, that tainted all his good Qualities. He looked upon himself as made of other Metal than the rest of Mankind, who seemed to him to be sent by the Gods, only for his Pleasure and Service, and to make every thing subservient to him as a Deity. The Happiness of serving him was a sufficient Reward. Where his Pleasures were concerned, nothing must be impossible; the most trivial Delays did irritate his eager Temper. Had any one seen him in his natural Disposition, they would have thought him incapable of loving any thing besides himself, being only moved by his own Vainglory, and Pleasure: but this indifference for others, and regard for himself, proceeded from nothing but the continual transport and violence of his Passions; which his Mother had humoured from his Cradle. He was a remarkable Instance of the Unhappiness of those who are Highborn: The Serverities of Fortune which he felt in his early Youth, had not moderated the impetuosity and haughtiness of his Temper: Tho' destitute, forsaken; and exposed to so many Miseries, yet he abated nothing of his Pride. It would raise itself, like a supple Palm, after all Attempts to press it down. These Faults did not show themselves in Mentor's Company, but daily decreased; as a fiery Courser, who frisking through the spacious Fields, whom neither Rocks nor Precipices, nor Torrents can stop, is obedient only to the Voice and Hand of one Man, who knows how to tame him: So Telemachus, full of a Noble Ardour, could be kept in by none but the Wise Mentor; one of his Frowns would immediately stop him in his most impetuous Career: He knew the meaning of each Look, and at that Moment would summon all his virtuous Resolutions. Wisdom in an instant, would render his Countenance smooth and serene. Neptune does not more quickly appease the hideous Tempests, when with his Trident he threatens the proud Billows.  
When Telemachus was alone, all his Passions, that seemed only suspended for a time, like a Torrent damned in, would take their natural Course. He could not endure the Arrogance of the Lacedæmonians, nor of Phalanthus, who was at their Head. This Colony, which came with a Design to found the City of Tarentum, was composed of young Men, who were Born during the Siege of Troy; who for their illegitimate Birth, irregular Manners, and the Licentiousness in which they had been brought up, had something about them that was wild and barbarous: They resembled more a Company of Robbers than a Grecian Colony. Phalanthus would seek out all occasions to contradict Telemachus, despising his Counsels, as those of a Young Man without Experience; and would make him the Subject of his Raillery; treating him as if he had been pusillanimous and effeminate: He exposed his smallest Failings to the Captains of the Army, endeavouring to sow Jealousy, and to make the haughtiness of Telemachus, odious to all the Confederate Princes. One Day, Telemachus having taken some Daunian Prisoners, pretended that they belonged to him, alleging it was he that had defeated that Party of the Enemies: And that Telemachus having found the Daunians already beat and put to flight, had nothing to do but give them Quarter, and carry them along to the Camp. Telemachus on the other hand maintained, that he had saved Phalanthus from being beat, and obtained this Victory over the Daunians. Both of 'em pleaded their Cause before the Confederate Kings; where Telemachus was so much transported with his Passion, that he gave Phalanthus threatening Language, so that they had gone to Blows, if the Bystanders had not interposed. Phalanthus had a Brother whose name was Hippias, famous through all the Army for his Valour, Strength and Address: Pollux, as the Tarentines allege, was not a better Champion, and he surpassed Castor himself in managing a Horse. He had almost the Stature and Strength of Hercules, and was redoubted of all the Army, though he was more quarrelsome and brutal than brave. Hippias, when he saw with what Insolence Telemachus had treated his Brother, goes in haste, and carries off the Prisoners to Tarentum, without waiting for the Sentence of the Assembly; which somebody having whispered to Telemachus, out he went in a Rage, foaming like a Bear, pursuing the Huntsman that had wounded him. You might see him wand'ring through the Camp, endeavouring to spy out his Enemy, and shaking the Dart, with which he resolved to pierce him: At last, meeting him, the Sight redoubled his Rage; he was now no more the wise Telemachus, instructed by Minerva in the shape of Mentor, but a madman, a furious Lyon. Immediately he called out, Stay, Hippias! Thou basest of Mortals! I will try if thou dar'st rob me of the Spoils of my Victory: Thou shalt not carry these Prisoners to Tarentum; I'll send thee down to the gloomy Banks of Styx. This said, he flung his Dart, but with so much Fury, that he could not measure his Stroke, and the Dart missed Hippias. Immediately he puts his Hand to his Sword, whose Handle was of Gold, and which Laertes had given him when he parted from Ithaca, as a Pledge of his Love. This Sword had won Laertes much Honour in his Youth, and was stained with the Blood of many famous Captains of the Epirots, in a War wherein Laertes was Victorious. Telemachus had hardly drawn his Sword, when Hippias, taking the Advantage of his own Strength, falls upon him, endeavouring to snatch it out of his Hand. The Sword was broke betwixt 'em, so they grappled and closed. They seemed like Two young Lions tearing one another to Pieces; they dart Fire from their Eyes, they contract themselves, than they stretch, they stoop, they rise again, they dart themselves, and are all over besmeared with Blood. Now they come to Handy-blows, Foot to Foot, Hand to Hand, with their two Bodies so twisted together, that they seemed but one. Hippias, who was already arrived at Manhood, seemed able to crush the weaker and more tender Youth of Telemachus, who already found himself out of Breath, and his Legs begin to fail. Hippias finding him in a staggering Condition, doubled his Force. There had been an end of the Son of Ulysses, and he had received the just Punishment of his Rashness and Passion, if Minerva, who in her absence watched over him, and left him in this Danger only for his Instruction, had not determined the Victory in his Favour. She did not leave her Palace of Salentum herself, but sent Iris, the swift Messenger of the Gods; who with nimble Wing, cutting the spacious Air, and leaving behind her a Tract of Light, which painted the Clouds with a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 different Colours; rested at last upon the Shoar where the numerous Army of the Confederates was Encamped. She beheld from afar the Strife and Ardour of the two Combatants; she trembled at the sight of the Danger to which the young Telemachus was exposed: And approaching towards him, involved in a bright Cloud, formed of subtle Vapours, in the very nick of time, when Hippias redoubling his Force, believed himself Victorious, she covered the young Charge of Minerva, with the Shield with which the sage Goddess had entrusted her. Immediately Telemachus, whose Force was quite spent, began to recover new Vigour, and the more he revived, the more Hippias was disordered: He felt something, as 'twere Divine, that crushed and confounded him. Telemachus presses him hard, assaults him sometimes in one Posture, sometimes in another: He makes him stagger, leaving him no time to recover himself; at last he throws him, and falls upon him. A lofty Oak of Mount Ida, felled with a thousand Blows, which make all the Forest ring, does not make a more terrible Noise in falling: The Earth groaned, and all Things around him trembled at his Fall. In the mean time, Telemachus, who had recovered his Wisdom with his Strength, had scarce thrown Hippias, when he begun to be sensible of his Fault, in attacking thus the Brother of one of the Confederate Kings, whom he came to Succour. He called to mind, with confusion, the wise Counsels of Mentor; he was ashamed of the Victory, which he well knew he did not deserve. In the mean time, Phalanthus transported with Rage, ran to succour his Brother: He had pierced Telemachus with the Dart which he held, if he had not been afraid at the same time to wound Hippias, whom Telemachus kept down. In this Condition, the Son of Ulysses might have easily took away the Life of his Enemy, but his Wrath was assuaged: He thought of nothing now but repairing his Fault, by showing his Moderation: Up he gets, uttering these Words. Oh Hippias! I am satisfied I have Taught thee not to despise my Youth. Live; I admire thy Force, thy Strength and Courage: Yield to the Power of the Gods that have protected me, and let us think of nothing now but of uniting our Force against the Daunians. Whilst Telemachus thus spoke, Hippias rose up, besmeared with Dirt and Blood, and full of Shame and Rage. Phalanthus, who could not take the Life of him who had just now so generously given it to his Brother, was quite beside himself, and knew not what to do. All the Confederate Kings ran to the Place: On one side they carried off Telemachus, and on the other Phalanthus and Hippias, who having now lost all his Courage, durst not show his Face. The Army could not enough admire how Telemachus, at so tender an Age (wherein Men usually do not attain to their full Strength) was able to throw Hippias; who seemed in Strength and Bulk like to those Sons of the Earth, who in former times durst drive the immortal Gods from Olympus.  
But the Son of Ulysses was very far from enjoying any Pleasure in his Victory; and whilst others could not enough admire him, he retired into his Tent, ashamed of his Fault, and unable to brook himself. He bewailed his Rashness: He was sensible how unjust and unreasonable he was in his Passion: He found something Vain, Silly, and mean in his excessive Pride: He knew that true Greatness was only to be found in Moderation, Justice, Modesty and Humanity. This he saw clearly, but durst not hope that ever he should amend after so many Relapses: He was combating with himself, and you might hear him roar like a furious Lion: Two Days he continued shut up in his Tent, unable to endure any Company, and tormenting himself. Alas, said he, dare I ever look Mentor in the Face? Am I the Son of Ulysses, the wisest and most patient of Men? Did I come hither to create Division and Disorder in the Confederate Army? Is it their Blood or that of the Daunians that I ought to have shed? I have been rash; and whilst I lanced my Dart unskilfully, put myself upon unequal Terms with Hippias, whereby I could expect nothing but a dishonourable Fate. But what then? I should not have been any more the inconsiderate Telemachus; that young Coxcomb that does not profit by any Advice; then my Disgrace should have ended with my Life. Oh, could I hope never to be guilty of that for which I am now so Disconsolate! I should be still too happy; but perhaps before Night I shall repeat the same Actions, which at this time fill me with so much Horror and Shame. Oh fatal Victory! Oh insufferable Applause! Which art nothing but the bitter reproach of my Folly.  
While Telemachus was in this disconsolate Condition, Nestor and Philoctetes came to wait on him. Nestor had resolved to make him sensible of his Fault; but this wise old Man finding the Despair the Youth was in, changed his grave Reproof into Expressions of Tenderness to mitigate his Grief.  
The Confederate Princes were put to a stand by this Quarrel: They could not march their Army towards the Enemy, till they had reconciled Telemachus with Phalanthus and Hippias: They were afraid every Minute lest the Tarentine Troops should attack the Hundred young Cretans that followed Telemachus in this War: All was in Disorder through Telemachus' Fault; and he finding himself the Author of so much Mischief, both present and to come, gave himself up entirely to Grief. The Confederate Princes were in a great strait: They durst not march their Army for fear lest the Cretans and Tarentines should fall foul of one another; nay, they could not keep them from Quarrelling within the Camp, where they were carefully watched. Nestor and Philoctetes went backward and forward incessantly betwixt the Tent of Telemachus and that of Phalanthus, who breathed nothing but Revenge. Neither the soft Eloquence of Nestor, nor the Authority of Philoctetes could prevail upon his implacable Spirit; which was still more provoked by the irritating Discourse of his Brother Hippias. Telemachus on the other Hand was Mild, but quite overwhelmed with Grief, which refused all manner of Consolation. This Disorder among the Princes, put all the Troops in a Consternation. The Camp appeared like a desolate House, after having lost the Master of the Family, the support of its Neighbours, or the flattering Hopes of its little Children. During this Disorder and Consternation, on a sudden they heard the terrible Noise of Chariots, Arms, the Neighing of Horses, and Cry of Men: Some as Conquerors, and Hot in the Pursuit; others Flying, Dying or Wounded: A thick Cloud of Dust covered the Sky and involved the Camp: To this was joined a stifling Smoke, which thickened the Air; and all were seized with Terror. It seems Adrastus, who was Vigilant and Indefatigable, had surprised the Allies; having been advised of their March, and concealing his own. In two Night's time, with an incredible Expedition, he had marched round an inaccessible Mountain, of which the Allies had seized all the Avenues: And being possessed of them, thought they were not only in perfect Security themselves, but pretended, when they should be joined by the rest of their Troops, by these Passes, to fall on the Enemy on the other side of the Mountain, Adrastus, who gave Money with both Hands for Intelligence, had been informed of this their Resolution; for Nestor and Philoctetes, tho' otherwise experienced and wise Captains, were not secret enough in their Counsels. Nestor in his old Age was too much taken up with the vain glory of recounting his former Actions: Philoctetes spoke less, but he was hasty; and if you but roused his active Temper, he would blab out all his Designs. Cunning People, by this means, found the way to his Heart, and the Key to his most important Secrets: Only provoke him, then full of Fire, and beside himself, he would break out in threatening Language; he would brage of sure Means to accomplish his Designs; if you seemed never so little to doubt of them, he would proceed inconsiderately to explain them, and to betray the most important Secrets. The Heart of this great Captain was like a Vessel made of costly Metal, but Leaky. These Villains that were bribed with the Gold of Adrastus, did not fail to take advantage of the Weakness of these two Princes. Nestor, they flattered continually with vain Applause: They put him in mind of his past Victories, admired his Foresight and Conduct: On the other hand, they laid a Trap for the impatient Humour of Philoctetes; they talked of nothing to him but Difficulties, Unseasonableness, Dangers, Inconveniences, and remediless Faults: When he was once heated, his Prudence forsook him, he was not any more the same Man.  
Telemachus, notwithstanding the Faults we have mentioned, was more close: He had been accustomed to Slavery by his Misfortunes, and the Necessity he was in, from his Childhood, to hide his Designs from the Lovers of his Mother Penelope. He knew how to keep a Secret without telling a Lie, and was free from that reserved and mysterious Air, that is so common to close People. He did not seem burdened with the Secret which he kept; you found him always easy, free and open, as one that had his Heart upon his Lips: He would tell you every thing that was of less moment; but knew how to stop nicely, and without affectation, at those things which might give any suspicion or broach his Secret. By this means his Heart was inaccessible, and his best Friends knew but as much as he thought fit to discover in order to have their good Advice. Mentor was the only Person for whom he had no Reserve. He had different degrees of Confidence in his other Friends, according as he had experience of their Love and Prudence.  
Telemachus had often observed that their Counsels were too soon spread over the Camp: He advertized Nestor and Philoctetes of it; but these two experienced Captains did not attend sufficiently to so wholesome an Advice. Age is untractable, Habit holds it, as'twere in Chains, so that its Faults admit of no Remedy; as full grown Trees, whose rough and knotty Trunks are hardened by Years, cannot any more be strait'ned, so Men at a certain Age cannot be bend from these Customs which are grown up with them, and, as 'twere, entered into their very Marrow. They know them, but too late: In vain they lament; for tender Youth is the only Age wherein Men have the Power of Correcting their vicious Habits.  
There was in the Army a Dolopian, named Eurimachus, an insinuating Flatterer, who knew how to accommodate himself to all the Humours of the Princes, Ingenious and Active to find new ways to please them. Believe him, Nothing was hard. Ask his Advice, he thought upon what would be most grateful: He knew how to break a Jest upon the Weak; but complaisant to those of whom he stood in awe. He could season his Flattery so nicely, as to make it pass with Persons of the greatest Modesty. He was Grave with the Grave, Cheerful with the Cheerful. It was easy for him to put himself in all Shapes. Sincere and virtuous Men, who are always the same, and subject themselves to the strict Rules of Virtue, can never be so agreeable to Princes, as those who humour their predominant Passions.  
Eurimachus understood the Art of War, was capable of Business, had followed Nestor as one that was pushing his Fortune, and had got much into his Favour. He could pump any Secret out of his Hcart, which was vain and subject to Flattery: And altho' Philoctetes was more diffident of him, yet his choleric and impatient Temper gave him the same advantage as his Familiarity with Nestor: Eurimachus would contradict him, and so by provoking him, would discover all. This Fellow had received great Sums from Adrastus, to inform him of the Designs of the Allies; besides, he had always a certain Number of Refugees in the Confederate Camp, who were one after another to desert from thence, and return to his Army: And when Eurimachus had any important Affair to communicate to Adrastus, he sent off one of these Deserters. The Cheat could not be easily discovered, because they carried no Letters; and if they were taken, had nothing about them to make Eurimachus suspected. In the mean time Adrastus prevented all the Erterprises of the Confederates: A Resolution was no sooner taken in their Council, than the Daunians did that precisely which was necessary to hinder the Execution of it. Telemachus was very diligent in searching out the Cause of this, and striving to excite the Jealousy and Mistrust of Nestor and Philoctetes; but to no purpose; for they were blind. Once they had resolved in Council to wait for the numerous Troops that were to join them; and they had caused to advance secretly in the Night an hundred Vessels, the sooner to transport their Troops from a rugged Coast where they were to come, to the Place where the Army was encamped. All this while they thought themselves safe, their Troops being possessed of the Passes of the neighbouring Mountains, which is inaccessible towards the Apennineses. Their Army was encamped on the River Galesus, not far from the Sea; in a delicious Country, abounding in Pasturage, and all things necessary for the Subsistence of an Army. Adrastus was encamped behind the Mountain, which they reckoned he could not pass; but he understanding that the Confederates were weak, and expected a great Reinforcement; that the Ships were waiting for their Arrival, and that the Army was divided by Telemachus' Quarrel with Phalanthus, he marched round with great Expedition, Night and Day, till he arrived at the Sea-Coast; where, at break of Day, he surprised these hundred Vessels. They being ill guared, he seized upon them without much Resistance, and made use of them to transport his own Troops to the Mouth of the River Galesus. Afterwards sailing up the River, the advanced Guards believed that these were the Ships that had their own Troops on Board; and immediately shouted for Joy. So Adrastus and his Soldiers landed before they were known. They fall upon the Allies, who mistrusted nothing: They found their Camp entirely open, without Order, without a Head, and unarmed. He made his Attack on the Quarters of the Tarentines, where Phalanthus commanded: The Daunians entered there with such force, that the Lacedaemonian Youth being surprised, were not able to resist: While they were looking for their Arms, in the Confusion they hindered one another. Adrastus sets Fire to the Camp: It seizes on the Tents, and mounts up to the Clouds. With its terrible Noise it resembled a Torrent which overspreads a whole Country, and with its rapid Course, carries it along with it the lofty Oaks with their deep Roots, the Corn, the Granaries, the Flocks and their Stalls. The Wind blows the Flame from Tent to Tent, and in an instant, the Camp looked like an old Forest burnt down by a Spark of Fire. Phalanthus, tho' nearest the Danger, could not remedy it: He saw clearly that all the Troops must perish in this Fire, if they did not make haste to leave the Camp; but he likewise saw how dangerous such a disorderly Retreat must be before a victorious Enemy: He began to draw out the Lacedaemonian Youth half Armed; but Adrastus would not give them time to breath. On one Hand a Troop of cunning Archers let fly a shower of Arrows upon the Soldiers of Phalanthus; on the other, the Slingers hailed great Stones. Adrastus himself, with Sword in Hand, marching at the head of a chosen Company of the bravest Daunians, by the light of the Fire, pursued the flying Troops; mowing down with his Sword what had escaped the Fire. Tho' he swum in Blood, he was not satiated with slaughter: Lions and Tigers, when they worry the Shepherds with their Flocks, fall short of his Fury. The Troops of Phalanthus faint, their Courage fails them: Pale Death, led on by an Infernal Fury, with her Head bristled with Serpents, freezes their Blood in their Veins. Their benumbed Members grow stiff, and their faint Limbs deprive them even of the Hope of Flight. Phalanthus, whose Shame and Despair had roused up his small remainder of Courage and Vigour, lifting his Eyes and Hands towards Heaven, he saw his Brother Hippias fall at his Feet, under the redoubled strokes of the thundering Hand of Adrastus. There he lay stretched out, and grovelling in the Dust, with black and boiling Blood, gushing like a Torrent from the deep Wound of his side: He shuts his Eyes, and his furious Soul flies out with the last drop of his Blood. Phalanthus besmeared with his Brother's Blood, and unable to help him, finds himself environed with a Crowd of his Enemies, who were endeavouring to run him down. His Buckler was pierced with a Thousand Darts, and his Body wounded in several Places. He could not rally any more his fleeing Troops; the Gods looked down, and did not pity. Jupiter amidst the Celestial Deities, beheld from Olympus, the slaughter of the Confederates. At the same time he consulted the immutable Destinies, and saw all those Captains whose Thread was to be cut that Day with the fatal Cissars. All the Gods were attentive to discover his Will by his Countenance; but the Father of the Gods and Men, told them with a sweet and majestic Voice: You see to what Extremity the Allies are reduced; you see Adrastus routing the Enemies; but this Sight is fallacious. Short is the Glory and Prosperity of the Wicked: The Impious Adrastus, and detestable for his Treachery, shall not gain an entire Victory. This Misfortune happens to the Allies, only to teach them to correct their Folly, and keep their counsels more secret. On this occasion, the Sage Minerva is preparing a new Triumph for her young Darling Telemachus. Here Jupiter having ended, all the Gods in deep silence continued to behold the Battle.  
In the mean time Nestor and Philoct tes were advertised, that a part of their Camp was already burnt; that the Flame, pushed on by the Wind, was continually advancing; that their Troops were in Disorder; that Phalanthus was not any longer able to sustain the Enemies Attacks. As soon as this fatal News had reached their Ears, they run to Arms, assemble their Captains, and command them to retire immediately out of the Camp to shun the Fire.  
Telemachus, formerly cast down, and disconsolate, now forgets his Grief; he puts on his Armour, the invaluable Present of the sage Minerva; who appearing in the shape of Mentor, made as if she had got them from a curious Workman at Salentum; but in reality, he caused them to be made by Vulcan, in the fuming Caverns of Mount AEtna. This Armour was as smooth as Ice, and bright as the Beams of the Sun. Upon them was graved the famous History of the Siege of Thebes: There you might see the unhappy Laius; who being informed by the Oracle of Apollo, that his Newborn Son should be his Father's Murderer, delivered the Child to a Shepherd, to expose him to the Wild Beasts, and Birds of Prey. Then you might observe the Shepherd carry the Child up the Mountain Cithaeron, betwixt Boetica and Phocis, whilst it seemed to cry, as sensible of its deplorable Destiny. It had in its Countenance, that native Simplicity and Tenderness, which makes Childhood so lovely. The Shepherd who carried him up the hideous Rocks, seemed to do it with Regret, and being moved with Compassion, the Tears flow from his Eyes: Irresolute and perplexed, he pierces the Childed Feet with his Sword, and thrusting in an Osier Branch, he hang him to a Tree, neither daring to save him against his Master's Orders, nor to deliver him up to certain Death. After this he leaves him for fear of seeing the little Innocent die, which he loved so dearly.  
By this time, the Child was ready to perish for want of Nourishment; his Feet by which he was hung, were Black and Swelled.  
Phorbas, a Shepherd of Polybus King of Corinth, feeding his Master's Flocks in this Desert, heard the Cries of the poor Child: He runs and takes him down, delivers him to another Shepherd, to carry him to Queen Merope, who was Childless: She was moved with his Beauty, and from his swelled Feet named him Oedipus; nurses him as her own Son, believing him sent from the Gods. All these different Actions were represented in their proper places. Asterwards you saw Oedipus now grown up, who being informed that Polybus was not his Father, travelled from Country to Country to discover his Nativity. The Oracle told him, that he should find his Father in Phocis: Thither he goes: where finding the People in an Uproar, in the Tumult he killed his Father Laius without knowing him. After that he appears at Thebes, he explains the AEnigma of Sphinx, kills the Monster, and espouses' Queen Jocasta, his Mother not knowing her, and she believing him to be the Son of Polybus. This detestable Marriage was followed by a dreadful Plague, a manifest Sign of the anger of the Gods. Here Vulcan had taken Pleasure to represent Infants dying in their Mother's Bosom, the People languishing, and Death and Sorrow painted on their Countenance; but that which was most frightful, was to see Oedipus, after having for a long time sought out the Reason of the Wrath of the Gods, discover himself to be the Cause. You might see upon the Countenance of Jocasta, Shame and Dread, to unriddle what she was unwilling to know: Despair and Horror upon that of Oedipus. He plucks out his Eyes, and you see him led about Blind by his Daughter Antigone. He reproaches the Gods with the Crimes which they had suffered him to commit: Then you see him enraged against himself, and being unable to endure the Company of Mankind any longer, he retires, leaving his Kingdom to his two Sons, which he had by Jocasta, Eteocles and Polynices, on condition that they should reign each a Year by Turns. But the Discord of the Brothers was more terrible still than the Misfortunes of Oedipus. Eteocles appears upon the Throne, refusing to come down to let his Brother take his Place: He again having recourse to Adrastus, King of Argos, whose Daughter he had espoused, advances towards Thebes with a numerous Army. Round about all the besieged Town you might see Battles. Here were assembled all the Hero's of Greece; and the Siege of Troy did not seem more Bloody.  
There you might know the Unfortunate Husband of Eryphile, the famous Diviner Amphiraus; who foresaw the Fate which he could not avoid. He hides that he might not be carried to the Siege of Thebes, knowing he was to engage in a War, from which he should never return. Eryphile was the only Person he durst confide in; Eryphile his Spouse whom he loved so dearly, and by whom he believed he was so tenderly beloved, betrayed her Husband Amphiraus, bribed with a Necklace which Adrastus King of Argos gave her. You might see her discover the Place where her Husband was hid: And Adrastus carrying him to Thebes against his Will. Quickly after his Arrival, he appears swallowed up of the Earth; which opens on a sudden to plunge him. Amongst so many Combats where Mars exercised his Fury, you might observe with horror, that of the two Brothers, Eteocles and Polynices. There appears something hideous and dismal in their Looks: Their Criminal Birth seems written in their Foreheads, by which you might easily judge, that they were devoted to the Infernal Furies, and the Vengeance of the Gods, who sacrifice them as an Example to all Brethren that should be born in after Ages: And to show the fatal effects of Discord, which separates those Hearts that ought to be so strictly united; you might see those Brother's full of Rage, tearing one another to pieces; each forgetting to defend his own Life, that he might take away that of his Brothers. They were both Bloody, dying of mortal Wounds, without the least Abatement of their Fury; both of 'em fallen to the Ground, and ready to breathe their last; yet would crawl one towards another to have the Pleasure of dying in the last effort of Cruelty and Revenge. All other Combats seemed suspended at the sight of this. The two Armies were seized with Horror and Consternation at the sight of these two Monsters. Mars himself turned aside his cruel Eyes from such a hideous sight. At last you might see the Flame of the funeral Pile, on which they placed the two Bodies of these unnatural Brothers. But what was strange to behold! the Flame parts itself in two, and Death itself could not put an end to the implacable Hatred of Eteocles and Polynices. They would not burn together, and their Ashes, sensible of the Mischiefs they had done to one another, would never mingle. This was what Vulcan with his divine Art, had represented upon the Arms which Minerva gave to Telemachus.  
On the other side of the Shield, was represented Ceres in the fruitful Plains of Enna, which are situated in the middle of Sicily. There you might see that Goddess assembling the Inhabitants, who were dispersed up and down to get wherewithal to sustain Nature, by Hunting, or gathering the wild Fruit, which had fallen from the Trees. She taught those Savages to till the Ground, and to draw their Food from its plentiful Bosom. She showed them the Plough, and taught them to yoke the labouring Ox. You might see the Ground open in Furrows, cleft by the Ploughshare; and afterwards you might perceive the Golden Harvest, covering the fruitful Plains; and the Reaper with his Sickle cutting down the comsortable Fruits of the Ground, and thereby repaying his Labour. Iron, elsewhere the Instrument of Destruction, was used here only to produce Plenty, and all sorts of Pleasure.  
The Nymphs, crowned with Garlands, dance together on the Banks of a River, hard by a Pleasant Grove. Pan played on his Flute; the Fawns and wanton Satyrs frisk at a distance by themselves. Bacchus was likewise represented, crowned with Ivy, leaning on his Spear, and holding in his Hand a Vine-branch, adorned with Leaves and Clusters of Grapes; his Beauty was fresh, with something in it languishing and passionate. In this manner it was, that he appeared to the Unfortunate Ariadne, when he found her alone and Forsaken, and overwhelmed with Grief, on the Banks of a strange River. In fine, you might see on all Hands, a multitude of People; the Old Men carrying the First Fruits of their Harvest into the Temples; the Young Men wearied with Toil and Labour, returning home to their Wives, and these going out to meet them, with the young Pledges of their chaste Love in their Hands. There were likewise Shepherds represented; some singing, others dancing to the sound of their Reed; all was Peace, Plenty and Pleasure; and every thing looked smiling and happy. You might see the Wolves play in the Pastures among the Sheep; and the Lions laying aside their fierceness, were sporting among the tender Lambs, and the little Shepherd's Crook equally commanded them all. This lovely piece seemed to bring to mind the Charms of the Golden Age.  
Telemachus having put on his Divine Armour, instead of his own took up Minerva's dreadful Shield, which she had sent him by Iris, the swift Messenger of the Gods; Having without his Knowledge carried away his own Buckler, and left this in its room, which is formidable to the Gods themselves. In this Condition he ran out of the Camp, to avoid its Flames: He called the chief Commanders with a strong Voice, which inspired new Courage in their routed Troops, who had given all over for lost. The Eyes of the young Warrior sparkle with a divine Fire; he gives Orders with as much Caution, as an old Man ruling his Family and instructing his Children, but executes them with all the promptness and vigour of Youth; like an impetuous River, that with its rapid Motion rolls along, not only its own frothy Billows, but with them the vessels of greatest Burden that float upon it.  
Philoctetes, Nestor, and the Commanders of the Mandurians, and other Nations, found in the Son of Ulysses certain unaccountable Authority, which they all found themselves irresistibly obliged to submit to. The Aged trust no more to their Experience, and Counsel and Prudence forsook the commanders: Jealousy and Emulation, so natural to Mankind, are quite extinguished in their Minds. They all keep silence; they all wonder at Telemachus, and stand ready to obey his Orders implicitly; as if they had been accustomed to do so. He advances, and from an Imminence observes the posture of the Enemy; and forthwith judged it necessary, with the utmost expedition, to surprise them in their present Disorder, while they were burning the Camp of the Confederates. He fetched a compass with great Expedition, and was followed by the most experienced Commanders. He attacked the Daunians in the Rear, who doubted nothing of the Allies being involved in the Flames of their Camp. This surprise put them in great Disorder, and they fell under Telemachus' Hand, as the autumnal Leaves of the Forest, when a blust'ring North Wind, bringing back Winter, shakes all the Branches, and makes the very Trunks of ancient Trees groan. The Ground all about was covered with the Bodies of those who had fallen by Telemachus' Hand. With his own Lance he pierced the Heart of Iphycles, the youngest Son of Adrastus, who had the boldness to offer him Combat, to save his Father's Life, who was in danger of being surprised by Telemachus. These young Combatants were both of them Comely, Vigorous, full of Address and Courage; of the same Stature, the same Age, had the same sweetness of Temper, and were equally beloved by their Parents. But Iphycles proved like a full blown Flower in a Meadow, cut down by the scythe of the Mower. Afterwards Telemachus overthrew Euphorion, the most celebrated of all the Lydians, that came into Etruria. At last with his Sword he slew Cleomenes, who being lately Married, had promised his Spouse, to bring her the rich Spoils of the War, or never to return himself. Adrastus foamed with Rage to see the Death of his son, and of many other Commanders, and the Victory snatched out of his Hands. Phalanthus, almost knocked down at his Feet, was like a half-slain Victim, who had escaped the edge of the sacred Knife, and had fled from the Altar. Adrastus had well nigh completed the ruin of Lacedaemonian Phalanthus, drowned in his own Blood, and that of the Soldiers that Fought with him. When he heard the shooting of Telemachus coming up to his relief, in that Moment he gets new Life; and the Cloud that had already overspread his Eyes is dissipated. The Daunians at this unexpected Attack, leave Phalanthus, to make head against a more formidable Enemy. Adrastus seemed like a Tiger, from whom a Body of Shepherds have snatched the Prey which he was ready to devour. Telemachus sought him out in the Crowd, endeavouring by one stroke to put an end to the War, by delivering the Allies from their implacable Enemy; But Jupiter grudged the Son of Ulysses, so quick and easy a Victory: And Minerva too had a mind to inure him to Troubles, that he might the better understand how to Reign. Therefore the impious Adrastus was preserved by the Father of the Gods, that Telemachus might have opportunity to acquire more Glory, and exercise his Virtue. A Storm summoned by Jupiter, saved the Daunians; a terrible Thunder proclaimed the Will of the Gods. You would have thought that the eternal Vaults of the high Olympus had been ready to tumble down upon the Heads of weak Mortals; the Flashes of Lightning split the Clouds from Pole to Pole; and from the moment that they ceased to dazzle the Eyes with their darting Flame, all was overspread with Midnight Darkness. The Rain falling in great abundance separated the two Armies. Thus Adrastus took advantage of the assistance of the Gods, without being moved with a sense of their Power: And for his Ingratitude, deserved to be kept for a more dreadful Vengeance. He made haste to march his Army between the Camp that was half burnt down, and a Morass that reached as far as the River. The Expedition with which he made his Retreat, sufficiently demonstrated his ready Invention and Presence of Mind. The Allies animated by the Valour of Telemachus, would have pursued him; but by the favour of the Storm he escaped, as a swift-winged Bird out of the Net of the Fowler. The Allies now thought of nothing but repossessing their Camp, and repairing their Damages: In entering it, they saw the woeful Effects of War; the Sick and Wounded not being able to crawl out of their Tents, or to save themselves from the Fire, appeared half burnt, sending up towards Heaven their doleful Shrieks and dying Groans. It struck Telemachus to the Heart, nor was he able to contain his Tears: Oft did he turn aside his Eyes, being seized with Horror and Compassion: He could not without groaning, behold these Bodies that remained still alive, and destined to a long and painful Death. They looked like the Flesh of Victims, roasted on Altars, whose Smell diffuses itself all around. Alas! cried Telemachus, behold the Mischiefs that attend War! What blind Fury bushes on unhappy Mortals? Their Days are so short, and the Misery that attends them so great: Why do they hasten the Fate that is already so near? Why will they add so many Troubles and Afflictions, to the Bitterness which the Gods have mingled with this short Life? Men are all Brethren, and yet they tear one another more cruelly than the savage Beasts. Lion's never make War with Lions, nor Tigers with Tigers, but exercise their Cruelty upon Creatures of a different Kind. Man alone, in despite of his Reason, does that which Beasts, that are void of it, would never have done. But still, why such Wars? Is there not Ground in the World enough to employ the Labour of all Mankind? How much of it lies desert? More than all Mankind is sufficient to replenish. What is it then that makes Princes spread the Flames of War over vast Kingdoms and Countries? A false Idea of Glory, an empty Title of Conqueror. Thus one Man, whom the Gods in their Anger have sent into the World, render so many Men miserable: To satisfy his Ambition and Vanity, all must be ruined; all must swim in Blood, be destroyed by Fire; and those who escape the Fire and Sword, must perish by more cruel Want. In a word, one Man sports himself with human Nature, involves all in universal Desolation to gratify his Humour and Vain-glory.  
What monstrous Ambition is this? Can we sufficiently abhor and detest enough such Men, who have forgot all Humanity? No sure, so far are they from being Demigods, that they are to be reckoned below Men: Their Memory ought to be accursed through all those Ages, in which they thought to have been admired. Oh! with how much deliberation ought Princes to weigh the War they undertake! They ought to be just: Nor is that enough, they ought to be Necessary. The Blood of the People ought not to be spilt, but for their Preservation, in the greatest Extremity: But the Counsels of Elatterers, a false Notion of Greatness, groundless Jealousies, and unreasonable Covetousness, covered with specious Pretexts, do insensibly engage Princes in Wars, which render themselves unhappy, make them hazard all when there is no necessity, and in the end prove equally fatal to their Subjects and Enemies. Thus did Telemachus reason; but he did not rest content in deploring the Miseries of War, but endeavoured to mitigate them. You might see him visiting the sick and expiring Soldiers in their Tents, scattering Money and Medicines among them, comforting and encouraging them by his Discourses, which were full of Friendship and Tenderness, and sending others when he could not visit them himself. Among the Cretans that were with him, there were two old Men; one of them were called Traumaphilus, the other Nozofugus: Traumaphilus had been at the Siege of Troy with Idomeneus, and had learned from the Sons of Esculapius the Divine Art of curing Wounds: He had an odoriferous Liquor which he injected into the deepest and most envenomed Wounds, that consumed all the rotten and dead Flesh, without being forced to make Incisions, causing new Flesh to grow, more sound and more beautiful than the former. As for Nozofugus, he had never seen the Sons of Esculapius, but by the means of Meriones, he had procured a sacred and mysterious Book, which Esculapius had given his Sons: And besides, Nozofugus was a Favourite of the Gods: He had composed Hymns in honour of the Children of Latona: And every day sacrificed a white Sheep, without blemish, to Apollo, by whom he was oftentimes inspired: He no sooner saw a sick Person, than he could tell by his Eyes, his Complexion, the Disposition of his Body, and the manner of his Breathing, what the source of the Malady was: Sometimes he would give 'em sudorific Remedies, which by their powerful Effects did demonstrate, how much Perspiration increased or diminished, disordered or restored the Machine of our Body. In languishing Distempers, he gave certain Drinks which by degrees re-established the noble Parts, and by sweetening the Blood, renewed the Vigour of his Patients; but he often alleged, that it was the fault of their Virtue and Courage that made Men stand in need so often of Medicines. It is a shame, said he, for Men to have so many Diseases; for good Health is the Product of a virtuous Life; their Intemperence, said he, changes into deadly Poison that wholesome Nourishment which was appointed for preserving their Life. Immoderate Pleasures do shorten men's days more than the best Remedies can prolong them. The short Allowance of the Poor preserves their Health, while the Rich deprive themselves of it by their excess. Those Nourishments that gratify the Palate most, and which force Appetite, are a poisoning instead of nourishing. Medicines in themselves are really mischievous and destroy Nature, and ought only to be used on pressing Occasions; but the Sovereign Remedy that is always harmless, always useful, is Sobriety, Temperance in all our Pleasures, Tranquillity of Mind, and Exercise of the Body: This makes the Blood sweet and temperate, and dissipates all noxious and superfluous Humours. Thus the sage Nozofugus was less admired for his Medicines than he was for the Diet he prescribed to prevent Diseases, and render Remedies effective.  
These two Men were sent by Telemachus to visit all the Sick in the Army: They cured many by their Remedies, but many more by the care they took to make them successful; for they took care to keep them clean, and by that cleanness to prevent noisome Air; and made them observe an exact Sobriety, and a regular Diet during their Cure. The Soldiers were all touched with a sense of this seasonable Relief, and thanked the Gods for sending Telemachus into the Confederate Army. This is, sure, no Mortal, say they, but some beautiful Deity, in human Shape; or if he is a Man, he is nearer a Kin to the Gods than the rest of Mankind, and is sent into the World only to do good. He is more to be beloved for his Sweetness and Bounty, than for his Valour. O that we could have such a King! But the Gods have reserved him for a People more happy than we; whom they mind to cherish, and among whom they will renew the Golden Age. Telemachus, while he spent the Night in visiting the several Quarters of the Army to prevent the Stratagems of Adrastus, heard these Commendations, which had not the least Suspicion of Flattery. As he desired no other, so his Heart was moved at these, and he found that sweet and pure Pleasure, which the Gods have joined to Virtue alone, and which ill Men, because they have never experimented it, can neither conceive nor believe; but could not remain fixed in this sort of Pleasure; his former Faults came all thronging into his Mind: He did not forget his natural Haughtiness, nor his indifferent Behaviour towards other Men, and he was secretly ashamed that he was naturally harsh, and yet seemed so human. He ascribed all the Glory that was bestowed on him, and which he thought was above his Merit, to the Wisdom of Minerva. It is thou, O great Goddess, said he, that gave me Mentor for an Instructor, and a Corrector of my evil Temper: It is thou that hast blessed me with Wisdom to make advantage of my Escapes, and to distrust myself: It is thou that restrain'st my impetuous Passions; and it is thou that makest me sensible of the Pleasure of relieving the Unhappy: Without thee I should be hated, and deservedly too: Without thee I should commit irreparable Faults, and be as a Child, who being insensible of its own Weakness, le's go the hold it hold it had of its Mother, and falls the very first step that it makes.  
Nestor and Philoctetes were amazed to see Telemachus become so gentle, so courteous, so helpful, and so provident. They were puzzled what to think; they saw him quite another Man; and that which surprised them more, was the great care he took about the Funeral of Hippias. He went in Person to bring his bloody and disfigured Body from the Place where it lay hid under a heap of dead Men: He shed pious Tears over him, and said, O Shade, thou knowst now how much I esteemed thy Valour! 'Tis true, thy Haughtiness did provoke me; but the heat of thy Youth was to blame for't; and I am not insensible how much that Age wants to be excused. We had at last been united in a sincere Friendship; I was to blame: O ye Gods, wherefore have ye taken him from me!  
Telemachus afterwards caused the Body to be Washed with an odoriferous Liquor, and gave Orders concerning the funeral Pile. The lofty Pines, groaning under the strokes of the Axe, came tumbling down from the tops of the Mountains; the Oaks, those Ancient Sons of the Earth, that seemed to threaten Heaven; the tall Poplars, the young Elms with their verdant Tops, and thick leaved Branches; the Beeches, the glory of the Forest, lay all felled on the River Galesus: There were they raised into a Pile, resembling a regular Building. The Flame began to appear, and a Pillar of Smoak mounted up to the Heavens. The Lacedæmonians marched with a slow and doleful pace, trailing their Pikes, and looking on the Ground; bitter Sorrow stood painted on their Warlike Countenances, and the Tears trickled down in abundance. After the rest, came the aged Pherecides, stooping not so much under the great number of his Years, as a load of Grieffor surviving Hippias, whom he had brought up from his very Infancy: He raised his Hands, and his Eyes that were drowned in Tears, towards Heaven. After the death of Hippias, he refused all manner of Food, nor could Sleep shut his Eyelids, or suspend the smartness of his Pain for a Moment. With a trembling pace he walked after the Procession, not knowing whither he went; he was speechless, because his Heart was quite oppressed; his silence was the effect of Despair and Dejection. But no sooner did he see the Pile kindled, than he cried out in a fury, O Hippias, Hippias! I shall never see thee again! Hippias is no more, and yet I live still! O my dear Hippias! 'tis I that am the cause of thy Death; 'twas I that taught thee to despise it; I believed that thou shouldst have shut my Eyes, and sucked my last Breath. O ye cruel Gods! Why did ye prolong my days, only that I might see the death of Hippias? O my dear Child, that I have brought up with so much care, I shall see thee no more; but I shall see thy Mother, whom Grief will kill, and who will reproach me with thy Death; I shall see thy young Spouse beating her Breast, and pulling off her Hair, and I am the unhappy cause. O dear Shade, call me to the Banks of Styx; for the Light is hateful to me, and 'tis thee only, my dear Hippias, that I wish to see. Hippias, Hippias! O my dear Hippias! I only live now to pay my last Duty to thy Ashes.  
In the mean time, you might see the Body of young Hippias stretched out in a Coffin adorned with Purple, Gold and Silver; Death that had shut his Eyes was not able to deface all his Beauty, and the Graces appeared still in his pale Face; Around his Neck that was whiter than Snow, but now leaning on his Shoulder, his long black Hair did wave, finer than those of Atis and Ganymede; but which were now to be turned to Ashes. You might observe in his Side the deep Wound, through which all his Blood had run out, and which had sent him down into the gloomy Regions of Pluto. Telemachus, sad and dejected, followed the Corpse at a little distance, strowing Flowers. When they came to the Pile, the young Son of Ulysses could not endure to see the Flame seize on the Cloth in which the Body was wrapped, without shedding fresh Tears. Adieu, said he, O magnanimous Hippias! For I dare not call thee Friend: Rest in quiet, O Shade, who hast merited so much renown! If I did not love thee I should envy thy Happiness, who art freed from those Miseries that accompany us and art retired by the Path of Honour. How happy should I be, if my End were the same! May Styx ne'er be able to stop thy Ghost; may thy Passage be easy into the Elysian Fields; may Fame preserve thy Name throughout all Ages, and may thy Ashes rest in Peace. Scarce had he spoke these Words, which were interrupted with Sobs, when the Army gave a hideous shout; they were moved with grief for the loss of Hippias, they were recounting his great Actions; and their Grief for his death, brought to their Minds all his good Qualities, and made them forget all those Failings, which the Heat of his Youth, or his bad Education had occasioned: But they were more moved with the tender Affection that Telemachus had for him. Is this, said they, the young Greek, that was so Proud, so Haughty, so Disdainful and untractable? See how gentle, how humane, how kind he's now become! Minerva, no doubt, who loved his Father so dearly, has had the same Passion for the Son; doubtless she has bestowed on him the most valuable Blessing that the Gods can give to Mortals, in affording him, together with Wisdom, a Heart sensible of Friendship.  
By this time the Flame had consumed the Body. Telemachus, with his own Hands, besprinkled the Ashes that were yet smoking, with a Liquor richly perfumed; then put them into an Urn of Gold, which he crowned with Garlands, and carried to Phalanthus. He lay stretched out wounded in several places, and in the extremity of his Weakness, had a glimpse of the melancholy Gates of Death.  
Traumaphilus and Nozofugus, whom the Son of Ulysses had sent to attend him, had tried their utmost skill for his Relief. They had by degrees brought back his departing Soul; fresh Spirits began insensibly to revive his Heart, and create a penetrating Vigour: The Balsam of Life gliding from Vein to Vein, had reached his Heart; a grateful warmth revived his Limbs; but in the very Moment that the Swooning left him, Grief succeeded; for he began to be sensible of the Loss of his Brother, which, till then, he had not been in a condition to think of. Alas! said he, why all this care to save my Life? Had I not better die, and follow my dear Hippias? I saw him fall hard by me: O Hippias! the comfort of my Life, my Brother, my dear Brother, thou art now no more! I can hereafter neither see thee, nor hear thee, nor embrace thee, nor comfort thee in thy Troubles, nor complain to thee of my own. O ye Gods, Enemies to Mankind! Must I forever be deprived of Hippias! Is it possible! is it not a Dream? No, it is real, O Hippias, I have left thee, I have seen thee die, and I must live till I have avenged thee; I will sacrifice to thy Ghost the Cruel Adrastus, who is stained with thy Blood.  
While Phalanthus was thus speaking, the two Divine Men used their utmost endeavour to appease his Grief, for fear it should increase his Disease, and frustrate the Effects of their Medicines: On a sudden he perceived Telemachus, who came to see him. At first sight, two contrary Passions were struggling in his Breast; he harboured a Resentment of what had passed between Telemachus and Hippias; his Grief for the loss of Hippias gave it an Edge; he could not forget that he owed the preservation of his Life to Telemachus, who rescued him out of the Hands of Adrastus, all bloody, and half dead. But when he saw the Golden Urn which enclosed the Ashes of his dear Brother Hippias, he dissolved into Tears; he embraced Telemachus, without being able to speak: At last, with a languishing Voice, interrupted with Sighs, he said, O worthy Son of Ulysses, thy Virtue constrains me to love thee; I owe thee the small remainder of my Life, and I owe thee also something that's more dear to me: Had it not been for thee, the Body of my Brother had been a Prey to the Vultures: Had it not been for thee, his Ghost, deprived of Sepulture, had wandered in a miserable Condition, on the Banks of the River Styx, continually pushed back by the pitiless Charon. Must I be so far indebted to one whom I mortally hated? Repay him, O ye Gods, and deliver me from this Miserable Life. And thou Telemachus, pay me the last Duty that thou hast paid to my Brother, that thy Glory may be complete.  
With these Words, Phalanthus was quite spent, and overwhelmed with excess of Grief. Telemachus stayed by him, but durst not speak, waiting till he should recover a little strength. Presently Phalanthus having come out of his Fit, takes the Urn out of the Hands of Telemachus; twenty times he kissed it, and watered it with his Tears, and said; O Dear, O Precious Ashes! When shall mine be enclosed in the same Urn? O thou Ghost of Hippias! I will follow thee to the Shades below: Telemachus shall avenge us both.  
In the mean time, Phalanthus recovered daily by the watchful Care of these two Men, who understood the Art of Esculapius. Telemachus was always by them to quicken their Diligence for hastening the Cure; and all the Army was struck with Admiration at his Goodness in relieving his greatest Enemy, more than at the Valour and Conduct which he showed in Battle, when he saved the Confederate Army. In the mean time Telemachus gave Proof how indefatigable he was in the greatest Hardships of War. He slept little, and his Sleep was often interrupted, either by the intelligence he received, every Hour of the Night, as well as of the Day; or by viewing all the Quarters of the Army, which he never did twice at the same Hours, that he might the better surprise those that were negligent. Oftentimes he returned to his Tent, all over Sweat and Dust. His Diet was plain, being the same with that of the Soldiers, that he might set them a Copy of Sobriety and Patience. Provisions being scarce in that Encampment, he judged it necessary to prevent a Mutiny of the Soldiers, voluntarily to share with them in their Hardships. His Body was so far from being weakened by that toilsome Life; that every Day it became Stronger and more hardened. He began to lose the tender Graces of his Face, which are, as 'twere, the bloom of Youth; his Complexion grew Browner and less Delicate, and his Limbs rougher and more nervous.  
In the mean time, Adrastus, whose Troops had been considerably wasted by the Battle, had posted himself behind the Hill Aulon, to wait the coming of some Reinforcements, and to try whether he could once more surprise the Enemy; just like a famished Lion, balked of his Prey, returns to the shady Forest, and reenters his Den, where he whets his Teeth and his Claws, and impatiently waits for a favourable Minute to destroy the whole Flock.  
Telemachus having made it his chief Care to observe a strict Discipline through the whole Army, he thought of nothing now but putting in execution a Design which he had already conceived, and which he had concealed from all the Commanders in the Army. For a long time, during whole Nights, his Head had been filled with Dreams, that represented to him his Father Ulysses. This Image of Ulysses used always to return when Night was going away, and Aurora began with her dawning Light to chase the wand'ring Stars from the Heavens; and when soft Sleep began to compose the fluttering Dreams. Sometimes he would fancy that he saw him Naked in a fortunate Island, on the Banks of a River, in a pleasant Meadow bedecked with Flowers, and environed by Nymphs, who threw their Garments on him to cover him. Sometimes he thought he heard him Talking in a Palace, all glittering with Gold and Ivory, where Men, crowned with Garlands, listen to him with Pleasure and Admiration. At other times he would appear to him on a sudden in those Feasts, where Joy shines bright amidst Delights, and where you might hear the soft Harmony of a charming Voice with a Harp, more melodious than the Harp of Apollo, or the Voice of all the Muses.  
Telemachus awaking, grew melancholy at his pleasant Dream. O my Father! O my dear Father Ulysses, cried he! The most frightful Dream had been more pleasant to me. These Representations of Happiness give me reason to believe that you are already gone down to the abode of blessed Souls, where the Gods reward their Virtue with eternal Tranquillity. Methinks I see the Elysian Fields. O how hard a Thing is it to hope no more! What, O my dear Father! Shall I see thee no more, shall I embrace him no more who loved me so tenderly, and whom I have sought after with so much Labour and Toil? Shall I never hear Wisdom itself Speak out of thy Mouth? Shall I never again kiss those Hands, those dear, those victorious Hands, by whom so many Enemies have fallen? Shall they never punish the foolish Lovers of Penelope, and must Ithaca for ever be Ruined?  
O ye Gods, who are Enemies to my Father, ye have sent me this Dream to deprive me of all Hope; 'tis to deprive me of Life. No, I cannot live longer in this uncertainty. What do I say, Alas! Nothing is more certain than that my Father is no more; I'll go find out his Ghost in the Shades below. Theseus' succeeded in this Attempt: The impious Theseus, who durst offer Violence to the infernal Deities! As for me, a pious Motive carries me thither. Hercules hath descended there; I am no Hercules; but 'tis glorious to attempt to imitate him. Orpheus, by the relation of his Misfortunes, did sensibly touch the Heart of the inexorable God, and obtained the return of Eurydice from thence. I have a juster Claim to Compassion than Orpheus, because my Loss is greater. Who can compare a young Girl, not singular for her Beauty, to the sage Ulysses, admired by all Greece? Let us go, let us die, if it must be so: Why should Death be so formidable, since Life is so miserable? O Pluto! O Proserpina! I'll try e'er it be long whether ye are as pitiless as ye are called. O my Father! After all my fruitless Travel over Seas and Land to find you out, if the Gods deny me the Enjoyment of you on Earth, and in the Light of the Sun, I'll go try whether you are gone to the melancholy Abodes of the Dead. Perhaps they will not refuse me a sight of your Ghost in the Kingdom of Darkness. While he was thus Speaking, Telemachus watered his Bed with his Tears; then he arose, to try whether by the Light he could mitigate the sharpness of his Sorrow that his Dream had occasioned; but this was an Arrow that had pierced his Heart, and which he continually carried about with him. In this Anguish, he essayed to descend into the infernal Regions, by a famous Place not far removed from the Camp: It is called Acheron, because in this Place there is a dreadful Cave, by which you may go down to the Banks of Acheron, a River by which the Gods themselves are afraid to Swear. The Town stood on a Rock, like a Nest in the top of a Tree. At the foot of the Rock was this Cavern to be seen, which fearful Mortals were afraid to approach. The chief care of the Shepherds was to turn away their Flocks from it: The sulphureous Stams which the Stygian Lake incessantly cast forth through this Passage infected the Air. Around it grew neither Herb nor Flower: There no gentle Zephirs fanned the Air: There you could neither see the blooming Graces of the Spring, nor the rich Blessings of Autumn: There the Ground was all dry and languishing; and there was nothing to be seen but a few Shrubs stripped of their Leaves, and the fatal Cypress. All round for a great way, Ceres denied the Labourers her Golden Harvests: In vain did Bacchus seem to promise his pleasant Fruits; the Grapes withered instead of ripening. The Sorrowful Naiads could not make the Water run pure; their Streams were always bitter and muddy. No warbling of Birds was to be heard in that Desert, that was all bristled with Briers and Thorns; there was no Grove to shelter them, they went and sung their Loves in a gentler Air. Nothing was to be heard there but the croaking of Ravens, and the melancholy Voice of the Owl: The very Herbs were bitter, and the Flocks that passed that way did not feed on that pleasant Pasture which used to make them skip: The Bull loathed the 〈◊〉 and the Shepherds forgot their Pipe and Flute.  
Out of this Cavern, oftentimes, there issued forth a dark and thick Smoke, which made a sort of Night at Midday. The neighbouring People redoubled their Sacrifices, to appease the Wrath of the infernal Gods; but oftentimes, Men in the flower of their Age, and in the bloom of their Youth, were the only Victims which these cruel Divinities, by a fatal Contagion, took Pleasure to Sacrifice.  
It was here that Telemachus resolved to find out the way into the black Habitation of Pluto. Minerva, who always kept a watchful Eye over him, and had covered him with her Shield, had bespoke Pluto's Favour. Jupiter, at the Request of Minerva, had given Orders to Mercury (who went down every Day to the Regions below, to deliver a certain number of Mortals into the Hands of Charon) to desire the King of Shades that he would allow the Son of Ulysses to enter into his Dominions.  
Telemachus secretly withdrew out of the Camp by Night; he travelled by the Light of the Moon, and invoked that powerful Deity, who in the Heavens appears a bright Star in the Night, on Earth is the chaste Diana, and in Hell is the dreadful Hecate. This Goddess vouchsafed him a favourable Ear, because his Heart was upright, and because he was guided by the pious Love of a dutiful Son. Scarce had he approached the entry of the Cave, when he heard the bellowing of the subterranean Empire. The Earth trembled under his Feet; the Heavens armed themselves with Lightning and Fire, that seemed ready to fall down. The young Son of Ulysses was shocked, and his whole Body was bedewed with a cold Sweat; but his Courage supported him; he raised up his Eyes and his Hands towards Heaven. Ye great Gods, cried he, I accept this happy Omen: Complete your Work. This said, he redoubled his Pace, and went forward boldly. Presently the thick Smoke, which rendered the entry to the Cavern fatal to all other Creatures that approached it, was dissipated; the poisonous Smell ceased for a while, and Telemachus entered alone; for what other Mortal durst follow him? Two Cretans who had accompanied him to a certain distance from the Cave, and to whom he had entrusted his Design, stood Trembling and half Dead a great way from it, in a Temple, making their Vows, and despairing of ever seeing Telemachus again.  
In the mean time, the Son of Ulysses, with his Sword in his Hand, plunges himself in horrible Darkness. Presently he perceived a dim and faint Light, such as we see in the Night Time on Earth. He observed the airy Ghosts fluttering about him, whom he warded off with his Sword. Not long after, he came in sight of the melancholy brink of the marshy River, whose muddy and stagnant Waters turn in a continual Whirlpool. He discovered upon the Banks of it an innumerable crowd of departed Souls who had been deprived of Sepulture, making their fruitless Addresses to the pitiless Charon. This Deity, whose perpetual old Age made him morose and fretful, returned them nothing but Threats and Refusals; but at first sight received the young Greek aboard his Boat. Telemachus had no sooner entered than he heard the mournful Groans of a certain disconsolate Ghost. What is the cause, pray, said he, of your Misery; what was you on Earth? I was, replied the Ghost, Nabopharzan, King of proud Babylon; all the Eastern Nations trembled at the sound of my Name. I made the Babylonians pay divine Honours to me in a Temple of Marble, where I was represented by a Statue of Gold; before which, night and day, the most precious Perfumes of Ethiopia were burnt; none ever contradicted me unpunished; new Pleasures were daily invented to sweeten my Life; I was then young and vigorous. What Pleasure was there that I did not taste while I sat on the Throne? But an ungrateful Woman, whom I dearly loved, convinced me that I was not a God; she has poisoned me, and I am no more. Yesternight my Ashes were, with great Solemnity, put into an Urn of Gold; they cried, they tore off their Hair, and seemed as if they would throw themselves into the Flames of my Pile, and share in my death: Some are going still to mourn at the Foot of the magnificent Tomb where my Ashes were laid; but no body does really regret my Loss: My Memory is abhorred by my own Family, and here below I am already exposed to the most dreadful Reproaches.  
Telemachus, moved at this sight, said to him: But were you truly happy during your Reign? Were you sensible of that calm and gentle Peace, without which the Heart remains always, as 'twere, withered and shrunk up amidst the greatest Pleasures? No, replied the Babylonian, I don't so much as know what you mean. The Sages boast of this Peace, as the only Good; but for my part, I never felt it: My Soul was incessantly agitated with new desires, with fear and with hope: I endeavoured to intoxicate myself with the tumultuous Motion of my Passions; I was careful to entertain this Frenzy, to make it lasting; the shortest interval of calm Reason had been bitter. Behold, this was the Peace that I enjoyed; all other seemed a mere Trifle and a Dream; these are the Blessings that I regret. While the Babylonian was thus speaking, he wept like one of a mean Spirit, softened by Prosperity, and who had never been accustomed to bear Misfortunes with Constancy. There were hard by him certain Slaves, who had been slain to grace his Funeral. Mercury had delivered them to Charon with their King, and had given them absolute Power over him whom they had served on Earth. The Ghosts of these Slaves stood now no more in awe of the Ghost of Nabopharzan; they kept him in Chains, offering him the most cruel Indignities. One would say to him, Were not we Men as well as you? How camest thou to be so stupid as to fancy thyself a God, and not rather remember that thou were Cast in the same Mould with other Men? Another insultingly would tell him, Thou hadst reason not to pass for a Man, being a Monster, void of all Humanity. Another would say to him, Well, where are all thy Flatterers now? Thou hast now nothing to bestow, poor Wretch; 'tis not in thy Power to do any more Mischief; behold thou art now become a Slave to thy own Slaves. The Gods are slow in executing Justice, but at length they have done it. At these hard words he fell flat on his Face, tearing his Hair, in an excess of Rage and Despair. But Charon called to the Slaves; Pull him by his Chain, raise him up in spite of his Teeth; he shan't so much as have the comfort to hide his Shame: All the Ghosts about Styx must bear witness to justify the Gods who suffered this impious Wretch to Reign so long upon Earth. This is, O Babylonian, but the beginning of thy Sorrow; prepare thyself to be judged by the inflexible Minos. Before dreadful Charon had well ended his Discourse, his Boat had touched the Borders of Pluto's Empire. The Ghosts came all flocking together to view this living Man, that appeared among the dead in the Boat; but no sooner had the Foot of Telemachus touched the Land, than they all fled; just as the Shades of Night are dissipated by the first glimpse of the Day. Charon looking on the young Greek with a smooth Face, and less fierceness in his Eyes than usual, said, O Mortal! belov'd by the Gods, since thou art allowed to enter the Kingdom of Night, inaccessible to all living, make haste to go where the Destinies call thee; go through this gloomy Path to the Palace of Pluto, whom you will find on his Throne; he will permit you to enter those Places, the Secrets of which he will not allow me to discover. Telemachus forth with advancing with a swift Pace, was surrounded by multitudes of fluttering Ghosts, innumerable as the Sands on the Shoar; and amidst the hurry of this numberless Multitude, he was seized with a Divine Horror, observing the profound Silence of these vast Places. His Hair stood on end, so soon as he approached the gloomy Abode of the pitiless Pluto; his Knees trembled, his Voice failed him, and it was with much ado that he could utter these words: You see, O terrible Divinity! The Son of the unhappy Ulysses; I come to inquire of you, whether my Father is descended into your Dominions, or if he is wand'ring still on Earth.  
Pluto was seated on a Throne of Ebony; his Countenance looked pale and severe, his Eyes were hollow and sparkling, his Face wrinkled and threatening: The Sight of a living Man was as odious to him, as the Light is offensive to the Eyes of those Creatures that are accustomed to lurk in their Retreats till the approach of Night. By his side appeared Proserpina, who was his only pleasing Object, and who seemed in some measure to soften his Heart: She enjoyed a Beauty that was always fresh; but her Divine Graces seemed sullied a little by something harsh and cruel that was borrowed from her Spouse. At the Foot of the Throne was pale and devouring Death, with his sharp-edged scythe, which he whetted incessantly. About him flew, black Cares, cruel Jealousies, Revenges, glutted with Blood, and full of Wounds; unjust Hatreds, Covetousness, gnawing itself; Despair, tearing itself with its own Hands; furious Ambition, that puts all in Confusion; Treason, that feeds upon Blood, and cannot enjoy the Fruits of its Wickedness; Envy, that darts its deadly Venom all round her, and who frets and rages when she's unable to hurt; Impiety, that has digged a bottomless Pit, and desperately thrown herself headlong into it; the hideous Spectres; the Phantomes, that assume the shape of the Dead to frighten the Living; the frightful Dreams and Watchings that are as tormenting as those. With all these dire Spectres was the haughty Pluto environed, and with these were his Palace filled. He answered Telemachus, with a hollow Voice, that made the bottom of Hebrus roar: Young Mortal, said he, thy Destiny hath made thee violate this sacred Refuge of the Ghosts; follow thy Destiny; for me, thou shalt never know where thy Father is; 'tis enough thou art free to go look for him; since he has been a King upon Earth, thou hast no more to do but to traverse one part of dark Tartarus, where the wicked Kings are punished; and on the other, the Elysian Fields where the good Ones are rewarded. But you cannot pass from hence to the Elysian Fields, till you have gone through Tartarus; make haste thither, and get ye out of my Dominions.  
Forthwith Telemachus seemed to fly through those empty and immense Spaces; he was so eager to know if he should see his Father, and to remove himself from the Presence of that horrible Tyrant, dreadful both to the Living and Dead. He quickly found himself on the Borders of gloomy Tartarus; from which there arose a black and thick Smoke, whose infectious Stink would have brought present Death with it, if it had reached the Abodes of the Living. This Smoke covered a River of flaming Fire; the noise of which, resembling that of the most impetuous Torrents, when they throw themselves down the highest Mountains into the bottom of a Gulf, struck those almost deaf that entered those dismal Places.  
Telemachus, secretly animated by Minerva, undauntedly entered this Abyss; at first sight he perceived a great number of Men, who had lived in a very mean Condition, and who were punished for having heaped up Riches by Fraud, Treachery and Cruelty. He observed there Swarms of impious Hypocrites, who made a Show of Religion, to serve them for a pretext to cover their Ambition, and to impose upon the Credulous. These Men who had abused Virtue itself, (the greatest Blessing that the Gods can bestow) were punished as the most execrable of all Mankind. The Children who had killed their Fathers or Mothers; the Wives who had imbrued their Hands in the Blood of their Husbands; the Traitors who had abandoned their Party, after they had violated their most solemn Oaths, underwent a more gentle Punishment than those Hypocrites. Such was the Sentence of the three Infernal Judges, and this was their Reason: It was, because the Hypocrites, not thinking it enough to be ill, as the rest of the Wicked, would pass for good Men, and by their counterfeit Virtue, make People afraid to trust those that were really so. The Gods, whom they mocked, and made despicable in the Eyes of Men, take Pleasure to exercise their Power in revenging this Affront.  
Near to these, appeared another sort of Men, whom the Vulgar do not believe very culpable, but whom the divine Vengeance punishes without Mercy. These are the Ungrateful, the Layars, the Flatterers, who commend Vice; the malicicious Censurers, who endeavour to fully the brightest Virtue; in fine, those who have rashly past Sentence, before they considered things to the bottom, and by that means wronged the Reputation of the Innocent; but of all Ingratitudes, that is punished as the blackest which one is guilty of against the Gods. What, says Minos, one is reputed a Monster, that fails in his Acknowledgements to his Father, or to his Friend, from whom he has received assistance; and yet Men glory in their Ingratitude towards the Gods, of whom they hold Life, and all the Blessings that attend it. Do not we owe our Being to them more than to our Parents, of whom we are Born? and the more such Crimes go unpunished upon Earth, the more they become the Object of implacable Vengeance here below.  
Telemachus seeing the three Judges sitting to pass Sentence upon a Man, took the boldness to ask what were his Crimes. Immediately the Criminal taking upon him to Answer, cried out, I never did any Evil; on the contrary, I placed my greatest Happiness in doing good: I have always been Generous, Liberal, Just, Complaisant, what have they then to object? To which Minos answered, we have nothing to reproach thee with, in respect of Men; but didst not thou owe them far less than to the Gods? Where is then that Justice of which thou brag'st so much? Thou hast failed in nothing towards Men, who are indeed nothing themselves: Thou hast been virtuous, but thou mad'st thy Virtue subservient only to thyself, and not to the Gods who gave it thee: Thou hadst a mind to enjoy alone, the Fruits of thy Virtue, and mad'st it centre in thyself; thou hast been thy own Divinity; but the Gods, who made all things for themselves, could not renounce their Right; and as thou didst forget them, they will forget thee, and deliver thee over to thyself: Since for thyself thou livedst and not for them. Find therefore, if thou canst at present, Consolation in thy own Mind: Lo! thou art now for ever separated from the Company of Men, whom thou studiest so much to please; thou art now alone with thyself, thy own Idol. Learn, that there is no true Virtue, without the reverence and love of the Gods, to whom we owe all: Thy counterfeit Virtue, which for so long has blinded the Eyes of credulous Mankind, shall be now exposed: Mankind judging of Virtue or Vice only with respect to his own conveniency, is blind both as to Good and Evil. But here a divine Light repeals their rash Sentences; condemning what they have admired, and justifying what they have condemned.  
At these Words, the Philosopher, as 'twere, Thunderstruck, could not now be reconciled to himself: The Pleasure which he took formerly in contemplating his Moderation, Courage, and generous Inclinations, were now turned into Despair. The sight of his own Heart, so treacherous to the Gods, was now punished enough: He saw himself, nor could he refrain from the odious sight: He saw the Vanity of the Opinion of Men, whom in all his Actions, he studied so much to please. There was a complete Revolution of every thing within him, as if all his Bowels had been turned topsy-turvey. He was no more the same Man; his Heart failed him; his Conscience, formerly so peaceable, rises up against him, and outrageously reproaches him with his shame Virtues, which had not either for their Beginning or End the Worship of the Gods. He is in Confusion, Consternation, full of Shame, Remorse, and Despair. The Furies did not torment him, because it sufficed to let him alone to himself; his own Heart sufficiently avenged the Gods whom he had contemned: Since he could not shun himself, he sought out the obscurest Places to hide himself from others: He courted Darkness, but could not find it; officious Light pursues him every where. Every where the piercing Rays of Truth revenge his Contempt of her. What he loved formerly, now becomes hateful, as being the source of all his endless Miseries. He said within himself, O Fool that I am, I have neither known the Gods, nor myself; no, I have been ignorant of every thing, since I never loved the only and true Good: All my Steps have been out of the Way; my Wisdom was Folly, my Virtue was nothing but an Impious and Foolish Pride, for I was always my own Idol.  
At last Telemachus observed those Kings that were punished for having abused their Power; on one hand a revengeful Fury presented a Mirror, which showed them the deformity of their Vices. There they saw, and could not hinder themselves from seeing their undisguised Vanity, greedy of silly Flattery; their hardheartedness towards Men, for whose Happiness they were made; their insensibility of Virtue, their fear of Truth, and Inclination for base Men and Flatterers; their want of Application, their Effeminacy, their Laziness, their Jealousy, their Pride, their excessive Magnificence, founded upon the Ruins of their Subjects; their Ambition to purchase Vainglory with the Blood of their People. In fine, their Cruelty, which seeks out new Pleasures, amidst the Tears and Despair of so many unhappy Wretches.  
In this Mirror, they saw themselves continually, more terrible and monstrous than the Chimer a that was vanquished by Bellerophon, or the Hydra of Lerna, that was destroyed by Hercules; yea than Cerberus himself, though he Vomits from his three gaping Throats black and poisonous Blood, capable to infect the whole Race of Mortals living upon Earth.  
At the same time, on the other hand, another Fury did insultingly repeat the nauseous Praises that their Flatterers had bestowed upon them while alive; and presented another Mirror, where they appeared such as they were Painted by Flattery. The opposition of these Portraits so contrary, was the Punishment of their Vanity: It was observable that the most wicked of these Kings, were such as during their Life had received the most magnificent Praises, because the Evil are more dreaded than the Good; and they exact without shame, the base Flatteries of the Poets and Orators of their time. You might hear them groan in their profound Darkness, where they can see nothing but the Insults and Derisions which they are destined to suffer. They have none about them, but such as oppose, contradict, and expose them. Whereas on Earth they sported themselves with the Lives of Men, and pretended that all was made for their Service; in Tartarus, they are delivered over to the Caprice of certain Slaves, who make them feel in their turn, the Miseries of cruel Bondage. Their Slavery is painful, and there remains no Hope of ever being able to mitigate their Captivity: Under the lash of these Slaves, now become their Merciless Tyrants, they seemed like the Anvil under the Hammer of the Cyclops, when Vulcan makes them work in the burning Furnaces of Mount AEtna.  
There Telemachus perceived pale, hideous and melancholy Countenances arising from Black Grief, that gnaws these Criminals: They abhor themselves, and yet they can no more deliver themselves from this Horror than their very Nature; they want no other Chastisement of their Crimes, than their Crimes themselves; which they incessantly contemplate with their most aggravating Circumstances: They present themselves to them like horrible Spectres pursuing them; to defend themselves from them, they call for a Death more powerful than that which separated them from their Bodies; a Death that can extinguish in them all Sense and Thought. They call to the Deeps to swallow them, that they may be snatched from the revenging Beams of tormenting Truth. But in vain, for they are reserved for Vengeance, that drops upon them leisurely, and will never be exhausted. The Truth which they were afraid to see, now becomes their Punishment; they see it, but whilst it flies in their Faces, the sight of it puts them beside themselves: 'Tis like the Thunder, which without hurting the Outside, penetrates into the inmost parts of the Bowels. The Soul melts in this revenging Fire, as Metal in a burning Furnace. It's texture is destroyed, and yet there is nothing consumed: It dissolves it to the very first Principles of Life, and yet it can never die. They are tied to themselves, and can find neither Ease nor Comfort for the least Minute. They subsist only by their revenge upon themselves, and Despair, which makes them furious. Among so many Objects which made his Hair stand, Telemachus saw several of the Ancient Kings of Lydia punished for having preferred the Pleasures of a voluptuous Life to that of Application; which ought to be inseparable from Royalty, in order to procure the Ease of their People.  
The End of the Fourth Volume.   

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. V.  
THese two Kings reproached one another of Folly and Stupidity: Says one to the other who had been his Son; did not I, when I was Old, and near my Death, often recommend to your Care the reproach of those Mischiefs which my own negligence had occasioned? The Son replied, O unhappy Father! 'Tis you that have ruined me; 'twas your Example that habituated me to Pride, Arrogancy and Cruelty to Mankind. While I saw you Reign in so effeminate a manner, surrounded with servile Parasites; I addicted myself to the Love of Flattery and Pleasures; I thought the rest of Men were in respect of Kings, what other Animals are in regard of Men; I say I thought 'em no better than Beasts, and that no other account was to be made of'em, but only what Service they could render, and what advantage might be expected from 'em. This I believed, and 'twas you that made me believe it, and now I endure all these Miseries for imitating your Example. To these Reproaches they added the most dreadful Curses, and were irritated with so much Rage, that they seemed ready to tear one another in Pieces. Besides, round about these Kings, there hovered (like so many Owls in the Shades of Night) cruel Suspicions, vain Alarms and Diffidences, which revenge Subjects on their Kings for their Severity. The unsatiable thirst of Riches, that false kind of Glory which is always Tyrannical, and vile Effeminacy, which redoubles all the Evils they suffer, without being able to give any true and solid Pleasure. Many of these Kings were severely punished, not for the Evils they had done, but for neglecting the Good they ought to have done. All the Crimes of the People, which proceed from Negligence in the execution of the Laws, were imputed to their Kings; and on them were all those Disorders charged which spring from Pride, Luxury, and all other Excesses which throw Men into a violent State, and tempt 'em to contemn the Laws in quiring Wealth. Above all, those Kings were treated with extreme Rigour, who instead of acting the part of good and vigilant Shepherds towards the People, thought of nothing but how to ravage their Flocks, like so many voracious Wolves. But that which raised the Consternation of Telemachus to the highest Degree, was to see in this Abyss of Darkness and Misery, a great number of Kings, who had passed upon Earth for tolerably good Princes, now abandoned to the Pains of Tartarus, for having suffered themselves to be governed by wicked and designing Men. These were punished for the Evils they had suffered to be committed by their Authority. Indeed the greatest part of these Kings were neither Good nor Bad; their Weakness was so great, that they never had been afraid of being kept in Ignorance of the Truth, nor ever had a true relish of Virtue, nor took Pleasure in doing Good.  
No sooner was Telemachus got out of these dark Regions, but he felt himself as much eased as if one had removed a Mountain off his Breast; The sense of this made him comprehend the Misery of those that were shut up in this dismal Place, without hope of being ever released. It filled him with Horror to observe how many Kings were more rigorously Tormented than other Criminals. What, said he, so many Endeavours, so many Dangers, so many Snares, so many Difficulties in coming at the Truth, so as to be able to defend one's self against others, and against ones self, and at last so many horrible Torments in Hell, after such Agitations, such Assaults of Envy, and so many Crosses in a short course of Life! O unthinking Man who is desirous of Reigning! And happy he who limits his Desires to a private and peaceable manner of Life, wherein 'tis less difficult to be Virtuous. In making these Reflections his Mind was filled with Trouble and Horror, insomuch, that he fell into a kind of Consternation, which made him feel something of that Despair which racks those miserable Princes whose wretched Condition he had been considering. But in proportion to the degrees of distance he gained in retiring from these sad Territories of Darkness, Horror and Despair, his Courage began gradually to revive; he regained his Breath as he went forward, and soon was entertained with a distant view of the mild and pure Rays of Light that darted from those blessed Regions where the Heroes reside.  
Here dwelled all those virtuous Kings, who had prudently governed Men till that time. They were separated from other good Men; for as wicked Princes suffered Torments in Tartarus, infinitely more violent than those of other Criminals of a low and private Condition; so these good Kings enjoy a Happiness in Elysium, infinitely exceeding that of the rest of Mankind, who had devoted themselves to Virtue, when upon Earth. Towards these Kings Telemachus advanced. They were in odoriferous Groves, on Meadows covered with immortal Green, and always decked with Flowers; a Thousand little Rivulets watered this happy Place with their limpid Streams, which refreshed it after a most agreeable manner; an infinite number of pretty Birds made these Groves resound with their sweet Harmony. Here they see at once the beautiful Flowers of the Spring growing on the Turf, under their Feet; and the pleasant Fruits of Autumn hanging on the Trees, over their Heads. Here the parching Heat of the furious Dog-star is never felt; here the rough Northwind never dares to Blow, to make 'em feel the rigours of Winter. Neither War, that thirsts for Blood, nor cruel Envy, that bites with envenomed Teeth, having twisted Vipers in her Bosom, and wreathed about her Arms; nor Jealousies, Distrusts, Fears, nor vain Desires, ever approach this blessed Region of Peace. In this happy Place, the Day ne'er knows an End; and the Night with her bloomy Veil is utterly a Stranger here. A pure and insinuating Light spreads itself round the Bodies of these just Men, and encompasses you with its Rays like a Garment. 'Tis not like that which illuminates the Eyes of miserable Mortals, which in comparison of this is little better than Darkness. 'Tis rather a celestial Glory than Light; for it penetrates the thickest Bodies, after a more subtle manner, than the Beams of the Sun can pierce the purest Crystal: Yet it never Dazzles, but on the contrary, fortifies the Eyes, and produces an unspeakable serenity in the inmost recesses of the Soul. 'Tis this alone that nourishes those blessed Men, it penetrates 'em, and incorporates itself with 'em: They See it, they Feel it, they Breath it; it causes an inexhaustible Fountain of Peace and Joy to spring up in their Souls. In this Abyss of Joy they plunge themselves, and live in it, as Fishes do in the Sea; they 〈◊〉 nothing, they have every thing without having any thing; for the relish of this pure Light appeases the Hunger of their Souls, all their Wishes are satisfied, and their fullness raises them above all that which Men with empty and hungry Minds so earnestly seek upon Earth. All the Pleasures that surround 'em, are nothing to 'em, because their consummate Happiness which proceeds from within 'em, leaves 'em void of Sensation, for every the most delicious Thing they see without 'em. Just as the Gods who are satiated with Nectar and Ambrosia, would disdain to Feed on those gross Meats which would be presented you at the most exquisite Treat that Mortals could make 'em. All manner of Evils fly far away from this place of Tranquillity. Death, Sickness, Poverty, Pain, Regrets, Remorses, Fears, and Hopes, too (which often cost us as much as our very Fears) 〈◊〉 Imaginations, Disgusts, and Vexations can none of 'em find entrance here. The lofty Mountains of Thrace that thrust their Brows (which have been coveed with Snow and Ice from the very beginning of the World) into the Clouds of Heaven, might sooner be overturned from their Foundation, which is fixed in the Centre of the Earth, than the Hearts of these righteous Men be moved in the least degree; only they pity the Inhabitants of this World for the Miseries that oppress 'em, yet 'tis such a sweet and calm kind of Compassion as can't in the least alter their immutable Felicity: An everlasting Youth, an endless Happiness, and a Glory altogether Divine, is conspicuous in their Countenances; but their Joy has nothing in it that is frothy and uncomely. 'Tis a noble Alacrity, sweet and full of Majesty. 'Tis a sublime Gust of Truth and Virtue that transports 'em. They are every moment, without Interruption, in such, a kind of ecstasy of Mind, as that which seizes a tender Mother at the sight of her beloved Son, whom after a long absence she had given over for dead. But this Rapture which soon retires from such a Mother's Heart, never forsakes the Souls of these Men; it never languishes for so much as an Instant, but always continues fresh and new: They have the Transports of Inebriation, without the disturbance and folly of it: They entertain one another with Discourses on what they see and taste: They trample under their Feet the sweet Delights, and vain Pomps of their former Condition, which they in some sort bewail: They reflect with Pleasure on those sad, but short Years, wherein they were obliged to oppose their own Inclinations; and to stem the impetuous Torrent of the Persuasions of corrupt Men, to become Virtuous: They admire the Assistance which was given 'em by the Gods, who conducted 'em, as it were, by the Hand in the Paths of Virtue, through a multitude of Perils. There is something Divine, which I know not how to express, that runs incessantly through their Hearts like a Stream of the Divine Nature itself, and unites itself to 'em; they see, they taste, they are happy, and feel; they shall always be so; they all sing together the Praises of the Gods, and all of 'em together make but one Voice, but one Thought, but one Heart, but one Felicity, which constantly ebbs and flows, as it were, in these united Souls. While they enjoy these Divine Raptures, whole Ages glide away more swiftly than Hours do among Mortals here on Earth; and yet a thousand and a thousand Ages when elapsed, don't in the least diminish their Happiness, which is always new, and always entire. They all Reign together; not on such Thrones as may be overturned by the Hands of Men, but in themselves, with a Power that can never be shaken. For now they have no more need to render themselves formidable by a Power borrowed from a vile and miserable People; they no more wear those vain Diadems, under whose darling Lustre so many Fears and melancholy Cares lie hid. The Gods themselves have with their own Hands placed Crowns of Glory on their Heads, the beauty of which nothing can ever Tarnish.  
Telemachus, who was seeking his Father, and was once afraid of finding him in these Regions, was so ravished with this Taste he had of Peace, Joy, and Happiness, that he could have wished to have met him here; and could not choose but be troubled to think of being constrained himself to return again into the Society of Mortals. This is the Place, said he, where true Life is to be found, and as for ours 'tis but a kind of Death: But that which surprised him with wonder was, that he had seen so many Kings punished in Tartarus, and so few in the Elysian Fields: He learned from this, that there are few Kings whose Minds are firm and courageous enough, to resist their own Power, and to reject the Flattery of so many Persons, who make it their Business to excite all their Passions; so that good Kings must needs be very rare; and the greatest part of 'em are so wicked, that the Gods would not be Just, if after having suffered them to abuse their Power during their Life, they should not punish them severely after their Death.  
Telemachus not finding his Father Ulysses among these Kings, cast his Eyes about to seek at least the Divine Laertes his Grandfather. While he was looking round for him, in vain, an old Man, venerable, and full of Majesty, advanced toward him. His old Age did not resemble that of Men on Earth, when oppressed with the weight of numerous Years; it only signified that he had been old before his death; it was a mixture of all the Gravity of old Age, with all the Graces of Youth; for those Graces revive even in the most decrepit old Men at the very moment of their entrance into the Elysian Fields. This Person advanced with speed, and looked upon Telemachus with Complacency, as one that was very dear to him. Telemachus, who did not know him, was in pain, and his Thoughts held him in suspense: I forgive thee, O my Son, said the old Man, that thou dost not know me, I am Arcesius, the Father of Laertes; I finished my Days a little before Ulysses my Grandson went to the Siege of Troy, and thou was't then a little Infant in thy Nurse's Arms. I even then conceived great hopes of thee, and thou hast not disappointed my Expectation; since I see thou art come down into the Kingdom of Pluto to seek thy Father, and yet the Gods support thee in this Enterprise. O happy Child, thou art beloved of the Gods, who prepares for thee a Glory like that of thy Father! And O how happy am I to see thee again! Leave off looking after thy Father Ulysses in these Regions; he is yet alive; he is reserved to advance our Family in the Isle of Ithaca; and Laertes himself, tho' he stoops under 〈◊〉 burden of Age, yet sees the Light, and lives in hope to see his Son return to close his Eyes: Thus Men fade away like Flowers, which in the Morning blow and display their Beauty, and in the Evening are withered and trampled under Foot. The Generations of Mortals slide away like the Waters of a rapid River; and nothing can stop the Course of Time, which draws after it even those things that seem the most immovable. Thyself, O my dear Son, my dear Son, thyself, who now enjoyest a Youth so vigorous and capable of Pleasures, thou wilt do well to remember that this gay part of thy Age is but a Flower that will be almost as soon withered as blown; thou wilt see thyself insensibly change; these smiling Graces, and sweet Pleasures, this Strength, Health, and Gravity will vanish like a pleasant Dream, and will only leave the sad Remembrance of 'em behind. Languishing old Age, that Enemy of Pleasures, will bend thy Body double, enfeeble thy trembling Limbs, and dry up that Spring of Joy which now rises in thy Soul, make thee dis-relish what is present, and fear what is to come, and render thee insensible of every thing but Pain and Sorrow. This Time to thee seems distant; but alas! my Son, thou art mistaken, it advances apace, and will soon arrive; that which approaches with so much rapidity, can't be far from thee; the present Time flies away, and is remote already, since it vanishes in the moment we speak of it, and can come near us no more. Therefore, my Son, ne'er reckon on the present, but bear up in the rough and difficult Path of Virtue in Prospect of the future. Prepare thyself by a virtuous Course of Life, and the love of Justice, for a place in the happy Regions of Peace. Thou art born to Reign after thy Father Ulysses, whom thou shalt at last see Master of Ithaca in a little time: thou art born to Reign; but alas! my Son, how deluding a thing is Regal Power: If you look upon it at a distance, you see nothing but Authority, Pomp and Pleasure; but take a near Prospect, and it appears full of thorny Cares and Difficulties. A private Man may without dishonouring himself, lead a pleasant and obscure Life, but a King degrades himself if he prefers an easy and unactive Life to the painful Offices of Government; he owes himself to all the People he Governs, and he is never permitted to be his own: His least Faults are of infinite Consequence, because they occasion national Miseries, and that sometimes for several Ages: He ought to suppress the Presumption of ill Men, to support Innocence, and dissipate Calumny. 'Tis not enough for him to do no Mischief, but he must do all the Good that is possible for him to do according to the Necessity of the State. 'Tis not enough for him to do Good for his own part; he must besides this, hinder all the Mischief others would do if not restrained. Fear, therefore, O my Son, fear a Condition so perilous; arm with Courage against thyself, against thy Passions, and against Flatterers. In speaking these words, Arcesius seemed animated with a Divine Flame, and showed Telemachus a Countenance full of Compassion for the Miseries that accompany a Royal State; when 'tis assumed, said he, to satisfy one's self, 'tis a monstrous Tyranny; when 'tis taken up, to fulfil the Duties that belong to it, and to guide innumerable Multitudes, as a Father governs his Children, 'tis a pressing Servitude, which requires an Heroic Courage and Patience. On the other hand, 'tis as certain that such as have reigned with uncorrupted Virtue, possess here all that the Power of the Gods can give, to render their Happiness complete.  
While Arcesius expressed himself after this manner, his words entered into the very Soul of Telemachus, and were as deeply impressed on his Heart, like those indelible Characters which an expert Artist engraves on Brass, with a design to have them exposed to the View of all Posterity: His sage Advice passed like a subtle Flame, and penetrated into the Heart of Telemachus, so that he felt himself strangely moved and inflamed. Something Divine, which I know not how to describe, seemed to melt his Heart within him. That which he carried in the inmost Apartments of his Soul, secretly consumed him; he knew not how either to contain it, or endure it, or to resist so violent an Impression; it was a sweet and calm kind of Sorrow; a levity and delightful Sentiment, mixed with a sort of Torment capable of depriving one of Life.  
At length Telemachus began to recover himself, and to breathe more freely; he discerned in the Countenance of Arcesius, a great Resemblance of Laertes; he thought too he had a sort of a confused Remembrance, that he had seen in his Father Ulysses, the same kind Lineaments, when he parted for the Siege of Troy; these Reflections melted his tender Heart, so that Tears mixed with Joy, gently trickled from his Eyes; he would fain have embraced a Person so dear to him; he attempted it several times, but all in vain; the empty Shadow still escaped his Embraces; as a delusive Dream flies from a Man, when he imagines he is possessed of a real Enjoyment: One while his thirsty Mouth pursues a Stream that slides away from him; Another while his Lips move to form Words which his faltering Tongue cannot utter; he earnestly stretches out his Hands, and can take hold of nothing: Just so it was with Telemachus, who could not satisfy the tender sentiments of his Soul; he sees Arcesius, hears him, speaks to him, but cannot touch him. In fine, he asked him, who those Men were, that were round about him. Thou seest, my Son, replied this Grave Old Man, those Persons who have been the Ornament of the Ages wherein they lived, the Glory and Happiness of Mankind; thou seest the small number of Kings, who have been truly worthy of Royalty, and have faithfully performed the Function of Godsupon Earth. These others whom thou seest not far from 'em, but separated by the little Cloud, have a Glory too, but nothing near so great. These indeed are Hero's, but the Recompense of their Valour, and Military Expeditions, is not to be compared with that of Wise, Just and Beneficent Kings: Among those Hero's, thou seest Theseus, whose Countenance is somewhat dejected; he has felt the Unhappiness of having too much Credulity for an Intreaguing Wife; and is still afflicted for having so unjustly desired of Neptune, the Death of his Son Hippolytus: Happy had he been, if he had not so easily and readily given way to the Passion of Anger. Thou also seest Achilles leaning on his Spear, because of the Wound the dissolute Paris gave him on the Heel, which put an end to his Days. If he had been as Wise, Just, and Moderate as he was Intrepid, the Gods would have granted him a long Reign; but they had pity on the Phitiotes and Dolopes, over whom, according to the ordinary Course of Nature, he was to have reigned after his Father Peleus; and they were not willing to leave so many People at the mercy of a violent and furious Man, more easy to be provoked, than the most unquiet Sea is to be moved by a sudden Storm. The fatal Sisters have cut off the Thread of his Life; he was like a Flower scarce fully Blown, that is cut down by the rude Ploughman, and falls before the end of the Day that gave it Birth. The Gods were willing to use him only as they do Floods and Tempests, to punish Men for their Crimes: They employed Achilles to beat down the Walls of Troy, to revenge the Perjury of Laomedon, and the unjust Amours of Paris: And after having used him as the Instrument of their Vengeance, they are appeased; and have refused the Tears of Thesis, to suffer this young Hero any longer upon Earth, who was fit for nothing but to disturb the World, and to overthrow Cities and Kingdoms. But dost thou observe that other Person who looks so fiercely? 'tis Ajax the Son of Telamonius, and Cousin to Achilles; to be sure thou art not ignorant what Glory he acquired in Battle; after the Death of Achilles, he pretended his Armour ought not to be given to any but himself; but thy Father did not think fit to give him the precedency; and the Greeks gave Judgement in favour of Ulysses. Ajax upon this, killed himself in Despair: Indignation and Despair are still painted on his Countenance. My Son, forbear to approach him, for he would think thou hadst a mind to insult over him, on the account of his Misfortune, which ought to be bewailed. Dost thou not see that he looks upon us with Pain, and rushes hastily into the dark Grove, because he hates to see us? On the other side thou seest Hector, who had been Invincible, if the Son of Thetis had not been in the World. But take notice how Agamemnon passes along, still carrying the Marks of Clytaemnestra's Perfidiousness. O my Son, I tremble to think of the Misfortunes of that Family, of the Impious Tantalus; the Contention of the two Brothers Atreus and Thyestes, filled that House with Horror and Blood. Alas! how one Crime draws a multitude of others after it? Agamemnon when he returned at the head of the Greeks, from the Siege of Troy, had not time to enjoy in Peace the Glory he had acquired in War; and this is the Destiny of almost all Conquerors. All those Men whom thou seest there, have been formidable in War; but have not been of an Amiable and Virtuous Disposition, and therefore are only admitted into the second Mansion of the Elysian Fields.  
As for these others, who have reigned with Justice, and had a tender Affection for their People, they are the intimate Friends of the Gods. While Achilles and Agamemnon, full of their Quarrels and Battles, still retain their Disquietments and natural Defects; while they in vain regret the Life which they have lost, and asflict themselves with the Thoughts of being now Impotent and Vain Shadows; these Just Men who are refined by that Divine Light which nourishes 'em, having nothing more to desire to make 'em happy, Behold, with compassion, the uneasinesses of poor Mortals; and the greatest Affairs that agitate the Minds of Ambitious Men, appear to them like the trifling Play of Children; their Hearts are replenished with Truth and Virtue, which they draw at the Fountain Head. They have now nothing more to suffer either from others or from themselves; no more Wishes, no more Necessities, no more Fears; all is at an end with them, except their Joy which can never end. Consider, my Son, this Ancient King Inachus, who sounded the Kingdom of Argos; thou seest how full of Sweetness and Majesty his Old Age appears; the Flowers grow under his Steps; he treads so lightly, that his walking resembles the flying of a Bird; he holds a Golden Book in his Hand, and in an Eternal Transport, sings the wonderful Works of the Gods; from his Heart and Mouth, he Breathes exquisite Odours; the Harmony of his Lyre and Voice together is capable of Ravishing the Gods, as well as Men. He is thus rewarded for the Love he bore to the People heaffembled within the compass of his New Walls, to whom he gave excellent Laws. On the other side, thou may'st see amongst those Myrtles, Cecrops the Egyptian, who was the first King of Athens, a City Consecrated to that wise Goddess, whose Name it bears: This Cecrops brought wholesome Laws from Egypt (a Country which has been to Greece a Spring both of Learning and Morality); by this means he polished the rough Tempers of the Towns of Attica, and united them by the Bands of Civil Society. He was eminent for Justice, Humanity, and Compassion; he left his People in great Prosperity, and his Family but in a middle state; he was not willing to have his Children succeed him in his Authority; because he judged there were others more worthy of that Trust. I must likewise needs show thee Ericthon, in this little Valley, who invented the Use of Silver for Money; this he did with a Design to facilitate Commerce among the Cities of Greece; but he foresaw the Inconvenience attending this Invention. Apply yourselves, (said he, to all those People) to multiply natural and true Riches in your Dwellings. Cultivate the Earth, that you may have great plenty of Corn, Wine, Oly, and other Fruits. Get innumerable Flocks, that may nourish you with their Milk, and Cloth you with their Wool. Hereby you will put yourselves in a Condition never to be afraid of Poverty: The more Children you have, the richer you'll be, provided you inure 'em to Labour and Industry; for the Earth is inexhaustible, and augments her Fecundity in proportion to the Number of her Inhabitants, who take care to manure her. She liberally rewards the Labour of 'em all; whereas she is tenacious and reserved to them that Cultivate her after a negligent manner. Endeavour therefore principally to acquire this real Wealth, which Answers the real Necessaries of Mankind: As for Money, no Account ought to be made of it any farther than it is necessary, either to carry on such Wars as you are unavoidably engaged in abroad, or in the way of Commerce, for such necessary Commodities as are wanting in your own Country; and it were to be wished that Trasfick were suffered to fall to the Ground, for all such things as serve only to maintain Luxury, Vanity, and Effeminacy. The Wise Ericthon would often say, My dear Children, I am much afraid I have made you a fatal Present, in giving you the Invention of Money: I foresee it will excite Ambition, Avarice, and Pride; that it will support an infinite number of pernicious Arts, which only tend to debase and corrupt the meanest of Men; that it will make you disrelish that happy Simplicity which makes your Lives so very quiet and secure: In fine, That it will make you despise Agriculture, which is the support of Humane Life, and the source of all solid Riches; but the Gods are my Witnesses, that my Heart was upright, when I imparted this Invention to you, which indeed is useful in itself. But at length when Ericthon found that Money, as he had foreseen, corrupted the People, he for Grief retired into a solitary Mountain, where he lived in Poverty, at a distance from Mankind, till he became extreme Old, without being willing to meddle with the Government of Cities. Not long after him appeared in Greece, the famous Triptolemus, whom Ceres had taught the Art of Tilling the Ground, and covering it every Year with a Gilded Harvest. Not that Men were till then ignorant of Corn, and the manner of multiplying it by sowing; but they knew not the Art of Husbandry to that Perfection, till Triptolemus, sent by Ceres, came with the Blow in his Hand to offer the Favours of this Goddess to all those Nations who had Courage enough to overcome their natural Laziness, and to addict themselves to assiduous Labour. Triptolemus soon taught the Greeks the way of cleaving the Ground with Furrows, and of rendering her fertile in tearing up her Bosom. The sweeting and indefatigable Reapers, soon made the Ripe standing Corn that covered the Fields, fall under their sharp Sicles; even the Wild and Barbarous People that were scattered up and down in the Forests of Epirus and AEtolia, seeking Acorns for their Food, became civilised, and submitted to Laws, when they had learned the way of making Corn grow, and of baking Bread. Triptolemus made the Greeks know the Pleasure of owing their Riches to nothing but their Labour, and of finding in their own Fields whatever was necessary to render their Lives commodious and Happy. This simple and innocent Plenty entailed on Agriculture, made them remember Ericthon's Counsel, so that they slighted Money, and all Artifical Riches, that become so only by the Fancy of Men, which tempts 'em to seek after dangerous Pleasures, and divert 'em from Labour, in which they would find all real Wealth, with Purity of Manners in the full Enjoyment of Liberty. They were then convinced, that a Fruitful and well Cultivated Field, was the true Treasure of a Family, that was wise enough to be content to live frugally, as their Fathers had done before 'em. And happy had the Greeks been, if they had continued firm and steady in embracing Maxims so proper to render 'em powerful: Happy Lovers of Liberty and Virtue! But alas! they begin to admire false Riches, and gradually neglect the true; they degenerate from their once admired Simplicity. O my Son, thou shalt one Day Reign; and then remember to bring Men back to the Exercise of Husbandry, to Honour that Art, to support those that apply themselves to it, and neither to suffer the People to live in Idleness, nor to employ their Time in those soft Arts that uphold Luxury and Vanity. These two Men that were so wise, when upon Earth, are here cherished by the Gods themselves: Observe it well, my Son, their Glory as far surpasses that of Achilles and other Hero's, who have only excelled in Battle, as the agreeable Spring exceeds the frozen Winter, and as the Lustre of the Sun outshines the feebler Light of the Moon.  
While Arcesius was thus speaking, he perceived Telemachus had his Eyes continually fixed on the side of a little Wood of Laurel, by a little River, the Banks of which were painted with Violets, Roses, Lilies, and many other sorts of odoriferous Flowers, whose lively Colours resembled those that invest Iris, when she descends from Heaven to bring some Message from the Gods to mortal Men. 'Twas the great King Sesostris that Telemachus saw in this lovely Place; he was a thousand times more full of Majesty, than he had ever been when upon the Throne of Egypt; his Eyes emitted mild Rays of Light, which dazzled those of Telemachus; any one that saw him would think he were overcharged with Nectar, the Spirit of the Gods had put him into such a Transport above the reach of human Reason, to recompense his Virtues. Said Telemachus to Arcesius, O my Father, I know Sesostris that wise King of Egypt, whom I saw not long ago. Ay, there he is, replied Arcesius, and thou seest by his Example how magnificent the Gods are in rewarding virtuous Princes: But you ought to know, that all this Felicity is nothing in Comparison of what was designed for him, if too great Prosperity had not made him forget the Rules of Moderation and Justice. The passionate Desire he had to abase the Pride and Insolence of the Tyrians, engaged him to take their City. This Conquest gave him the Ambition to attempt the making of others; so that he suffered himself to be seduced by the vainglory of Conquerors. He subjugated, or to speak more properly, ravaged all Asia. At his return into Egypt he found his Brother possessed of the Throne, who by an unjust Government, had altered the best Laws of the Country. These are the Mischiefs Conquerors bring upon their own States, while they seek to usurp those of their Neighbours. This is the Injury, a King otherwise so Just and Beneficent, did to the Laws; and 'tis this that diminishes the Glory which the Gods had prepared for him. Dost thou not see that other Person, my Son, whose Wound appears so bright and glorious; 'tis a King of Caria, named Dioclides, who devoted himself to Die in Battle for his People, because the Oracle had predicted that in the War of the Carians and Licians, that Nation whose King should Perish, should be Victorious. Here is another I would have thee consider; 'tis a wise Legislator, who having given Laws to the Nation under his Conduct, proper to make 'em Virtuous and Happy, made 'em Swear they would never violate any of those Laws during his Absence; after which he left his Country, voluntarily exiling himself, and died Poor in a strange Land, by this means to oblige his People always to observe these useful Laws according to their Oath. That other Prince, thou seest, is the eleventh King of the Pylians, and one of the Ancestors of wise Nestor: When the Earth was ravaged by a Pestilence, which covered the Banks of Acheron with a multitude of new Ghosts, he requested of the Gods that they would suffer him to appease their Anger, in satisfying by his Death for so many Thousands of innocent Men. The Gods heard his Petition, and gave him here a royal Grandeur, in comparison of which all the Pomps of the Earth are but so many vain Shadows.  
That old Man, whom thou seest crowned with Flowers, is the famous Belus; he reigned in Egypt, and married Anchinoe, the Daughter of the God Nilus, who hides the source of his Streams, and enriches the Countries which he Waters by his fruitful Inundations; he had two Sons, Danaus, of whose History thou art not Ignorant, and Egyptus, who gives his Name to that considerable Kingdom. Belus thought himself Richer, by the Prosperity he gave his People, and the love his Subjects bare to him, than by all the Tributes he could have exacted of 'em. These Men, my Son, whom thou supposest to be dead, are alive; and that Life which Men lead amidst many Miseries on Earth, is no better than Death, only the Names of Things are changed. May it please the Gods to render thee Virtuous enough to merit this blessed Life, which nothing can ever either end or disturb. Haste away, 'tis time to go and seek thy Father; before thou shalt find him, alas, how much Bloodshed shalt thou see! But yet what Glory waits for thee in the Fields of Hesperia! Remember the Counsels of the wise Mentor; if thou follow'st them, thy Name shall be great among the Nations, and in all Ages.  
Having said this, he presently conducted Telemachus toward the Gate of Ivory, which leads out of the gloomy Empire of Pluto. Telemachus parted from him with Tears in his Eyes, without being able to embrace him: Being come out of these dark Regions, he made what haste he could to return to the Camp of the Allies, after he had again joined the two young Cretans on the Way, who had accompanied him very near the Cavern, and had lost their hope of ever seeing him again. In the mean time the chief Commanders of the Army met together to deliberate whether they should possess themselves of Venusia. It was an old Fort which Adrastus had heretofore usurped upon his Neighbours the Appulians. These were entered into the Confederacy against him, to demand Satisfaction for this piece of Injustice. Adrastus, to appease 'em, had put this City by way of Caution, into the Hands of the Lucanians, but had by Money corrupted both the Lucanian Garrison, and the Person that Commanded it; so that the ‛ Lucanians had in reality no more Authority than he in Venusia: And thus the Appulians, who had consented that the Lucanian Garrison should keep Venusia, were tricked in this Negotiation: A Citizen of Venusia named Demophantes, had made a private Offer to the Allies, to deliver up one of the Gates of the City in the Night. This Advantage was so much the greater, in that Adrastus had sent all the Ammunition, and Provisions to a Castle near Venusia, which could not defend itself if Venusia were taken. Philoctetes and Nestor had already given their Opinion, that such a happy Opportunity ought to be improved; all the Principal Commanders, swayed by their Authority, and attracted by the Advantage of so easy an Enterprise, Applauded their Sentiment. But Telemachus at his Return, made his utmost Efforts to divert 'em from it. I am not Ignorant, said he, that if ever any Man deserved to be surprised and deceived, Adrastus does, who has so often dealt fraudulently with every body else. I see very well, that in Venusia, you'll only put yourselves in possession of a City that belongs to you, since it pertains to the Appulians, who are one of our Confederate Parties: I confess you may do it with the better colour of Justice, in as much as Adrastus, who has put this City as a Pledge in the Hands of others, has Corrupted the Commander and the Garrison, that he may enter it when he thinks fit: In fine, I understand as well as you, that if you take Venusia, you'll the next Day be Masters of the Castle, where all Adrastus his Provisions are laid up, and so may end this so formidable a War in two Days time. But is it not much better to Perish, than Conquer by such means as these? Is Fraud to be repelled by Fraud? Shall it be said, that so many Kings who entered into a Confederacy, to punish the Impious Adrastus for his Guile, are become fraudulent like him? If'tis' lawful for us to do as Adrastus has done, he is not Guilty, and we are to be blamed to go about to punish him. What has all Hesperia, which is supported by so many Greek Colonies, and by so many Hero's returned from the Siege of Troy? Has Hesperia no other Arms against the Perfidiousness and Perjury of Adrastus, than the practice of the same Vices? You have sworn by the most sacred Things, that you would leave Venusia in Trust, in the Hands of the Lucanians: The Lucanian Garrison you say is Corrupted with Adrastus his Money; I believe it as well as you, but this Garrison is paid by the Lucanians, and has not refused to obey 'em; it has kept, at least in appearance, a Neutrality. Neither Adrastus nor any of his Men have ever entered into Venusia; the Treaty subsists; your Oath is not forgotten by the Gods; shall we not keep the Promises we have given, but only when we want plausible pretexts to violate 'em? Shall we not be faithful, and religiously regard our Oaths, but only when there is nothing to be got in breaking them? If the Love of Virtue, and the Fear of the Gods don't move you, be concerned at least for your Reputation, and for your Interest. If you show the World this pernicious Example of violating your Faith, and breaking your Oaths to terminate a War, what Wars will you not stir up by your Impious Conduct? Which of your Neighbours will not find themselves constrained to be jealous of you on all occasions, and utterly to detest you? Who will for the future confide in you in the most pressing Exigencies? What Security will you be able to give, if you should have a mind to be sincere, and when it would be of great Consequence to you to persuade your Neighbours of your sincerity? Shall it be a solemn Treaty? when you have trampled such a one under your Feet. Shall it be an Oath? when it is known you make no account of the Gods, if you have any hope of gaining an Advantage by Perjury. Peace will give no more Security, in respect of you, than War; all that comes from you will be received as War, either secret and dissembled, or open and declared. You'll be looked upon as their perpetual Enemies, by all who have the misfortune to be your Neighbours; all Affairs that require Reputation, Probity and Confidence, will become impossible to you. You will have no Means left to make your Promises believed: Besides all this, said Telemachus, there is a more pressing Interest that ought to touch you very sensibly: If you have any Sense and Foresight left, and that is, that so deceitful a Conduct inwardly attacks the League in which you are engaged, and will soon ruin it; and thus by your Perjury you will open away for a Triumph to Adrastus. At these words the whole Assembly was moved, and asked him, how he durst affirm, that an Action which would certainly give the Confederates a Victory, could ruin the Confederacy? How, replied he, will you be able to trust one another, if you once break the only Bond of Society, and mutual Confidence, which is Faith and Sincerity? After you have once established it for a Maxim, That the Rules of Probity and Fidelity, may be broken in Prospect of some great Advantage; How can any one of you put Confidence in any of the rest? For when this last shall find it very Commodious for his Interest to falsify his Word, and impose on you, how will you help yourselves? Which of you will not endeavour to prevent the Artifices of his Neighbour by Tricks of his own? And what will become of the Confederacy, when by a common deliberation, 'tis agreed among 'em, that 'tis lawful to surprise a Neighbour by such Wiles, and to violate the most solemn Engagements? What mutual Distrust and Divisions will be among you? And what violent Efforts to destroy each other? Adrastus will have no need then to destroy you; you will do your own Business sufficiently, in justifying such Perfidiousness. O wise and magnanimous Princes! who Command with so much Prudence such innumerable Multitudes of People, do not disdain to hearken to the Counsel of a young Man: If you should fall into the most terrible Extremities, into which War sometimes precipitates Men, you might be relieved by the Vigilance, and the Efforts of your Virtue; for true Courage never suffers itself to be entirely depressed; but if ever you break the Barrier of Honour and Fidelity, your Loss will become irreparable; you will never be able to re-establish either that Confidence among you, which is necessary to the success of all important Affairs; nor bring Men back to the Principles of Virtue, after you have taught 'em to despise 'em. Again, what is it you are afraid of? Ha'ned you Courage enough to Conquer without using Deceit? Is not your Virtue in Conjunction with the Forces of so many Nations sufficient to support you? Let us fight and die, if it must be so, rather than Conquer by such unworthy means. Adrastus, the impious Adrastus is in our hands, provided we abhor to imitate his Baseness and Infidelity.  
When Telemachus had finished this Discourse, he found that the charming Eloquence which had flowed from his Lips, had pierced their very Souls. He observed a profound Silence in the Assembly: Every one's Thoughts were engaged in considering, not so much his Person, and the Graces of his Speech, as the Force of Truth that displayed itself so evidently in the train of his Reasonings. Astonishment was drawn on their Countenances: At last a low Murmur was heard to spread itself by little and little among 'em; they looked one upon another, and every one was loath to speak first: 'Twas expected that the chief Commanders would declare themselves, and each of 'em felt an uneasiness in retaining his Sentiments. In fine, the grave Nestor delivered himself in these words: O worthy Son of the wise Ulysses! The Gods have taught you to speak; and Minerva, who has so often inspired your Father, has infused into your Soul that wise and generous Advice you have imparted to us. I don't mind your Youth; I only consider Minerva in all you have been saying: You have spoken on the behalf of Virtue; without which the greatest Advantages are real Losses; without which we may draw upon ourselves, the Revenge of our Enemies, the Distrust of our Allies, the Horror of all good Men, and the just Displeasure of the Gods; I am therefore for leaving Venusia in the hands of the Lucanians, and for thinking of no other way of Conquering Adrastus, but by our Courage. No sooner had he spoken, but the whole Assembly applauded the Wisdom of his Words; but in giving this Applause, every one turned his Eyes with wonder towards the Son of Ulysses; and all thought they saw that Wisdom of Minerva which inspired him, cast a sparkling Glory upon his Countenance.  
There was soon raised in this Council of the King's, another Question, in resolving which, he acquired no less Glory. Adrastus, who was always Cruel and Perfidious, sent into the Camp a Deserter named Acanthus, who was to Poison the principal Commanders of the Army. Above all, he had order to spare nothing to bring about the Death of young Telemachus, who was already become the Terror of the Daunians. Telemachus, who had too much Courage and Candour to be inclined to Suspicion, without difficulty, kindly received this Villain, who had seen Ulysses in Sicily, and gave him an account of the Adventures of that Hero. He maintained him, and endeavoured to encourage him under his Misfortune; for Acanthus complained, that he was deluded and treated unworthily by Adrastus; but this was to cherish and warm in his Bosom a Viper full of Venom, that was ready to give him a mortal Wound. Another Deserter was taken, called Arion, whom Acanthus had sent back to Adrastus, to acquaint him with the State of the Confederate Camp, and to assure him that the following day he would Poison the principal Kings, together with Telemachus, at a Feast which this last was to make on his Account. Arion being surprised, confessed his Treason; he was suspected to have Intelligence with Acanthus, because they were intimate Friends; but Acanthus being a profound Hypocrite, and intrepid, made his Defense with so much Art, that he could not be convicted; nor the bottom of the Conspiracy discovered. Divers of the Kings were for sacrificing Acanthus at a venture, for the Public Safety. He ought to die, said they; the Life of one Man ought not to stand in competition with the security of the Lives of so many Kings. What if one innocent Man perish, when his Death is designed for the Preservation of such as represent the Gods among Men? What inhuman Maxim, replied Telemachus, what barbarous Policy is this? Are you then so prodigal of human Blood? O you that are established the Shepherds of Mankind, and only Rule over 'em to preserve 'em, as Shepherds do their Flocks. You, it seems, then are become cruel Wolves instead of being careful Shepherds; at least, you are only such Shepherds as cut the Throats of their Sheep instead of leading 'em into good Pasture. According to you, a Man becomes Guilty as soon as he is accused, and Suspicion makes him deserve Death; the Innocent lie at the mercy of Envy and Calumny; and according to your increase of this tyrannical Jealousy in your Minds, we must have more such Victims sacrificed. Telemachus uttered these Words with such Authority and Vehemence as captivated their Hearts, and covered the Authors of this so unmanly Advice with Shame and Confusion. In fine, he softened his words: For my part, said he, I am not so much in love with Life, as to secure it at that rate; I had rather Acanthus should be Vile and Wicked than myself; and would sooner choose to die by his Treachery, than put him to Death by any unjust Sentence, only founded upon Suspicion. But have a little Patience, O you, who in being established Kings, that is, Judges of the People under your Charge, aught to know how to discharge the Function with Justice, Prudence and Moderation; let me examine Acanthus in your Presence. Immediately he interrogated this Man about his Correspondence with Arion; he pressed him with an infinite number of Circumstances; he often made him believe he would send him back to Adrastus as a Deserter that deserved to be punished; that he might the better make his Observation, whether he were afraid to be sent back or not; but the Countenance of Acanthus still remained calm and even: From which Telemachus concluded that Acanthus might not be Guilty: In fine, perceiving he could not thus draw the Truth out of his Breast, says he to him, Give me your Ring, for I'll send it to Adrastus: No sooner was the Ring demanded, but Acanthus turned Pale, and was much embarrassed. Telemachus, whose Eyes were continually fixed on him, discerned it; he took the Ring; I'll immediately send this, says he to Adrastus, by the Hand of an intreaging Lucanian, named Polytropus, with whom you are acquainted; he shall pretend to be come secretly from you; if we can by this means discover their private Intelligence with Adrastus, you shall without Mercy be put to Death by the most cruel Torments; if on the contrary you now confess your Fault, you shall be pardoned, and we'll content ourselves only in sending you into an Island, where you shall want nothing. Upon this Acanthus corfessed all, and Telemachus obtained of the Kings that his Life might be spared, because he had given him the promise of it; and he was sent to the Islands called Echinades, where he lived in Peace. Not long after this a Daunian of obscure Birth, but of a violent and daring Temper, named Discorus, Temper, named Discorus, came in the Night into the confederate Camp, to make an offer to 'em to kill King Adrastus in his Tent. He was capable of this Attempt; for that Man is Master of the Life of another, who puts no Value upon his own. This Person breathed nothing but Revenge, because Adrastus had taken away his Wife, whom he passionately Loved, and whose Beauty did not come behind that of Venus herself. He had secret Intelligence whereby he could find a Way into the King's Tent in the Night, and could be favoured in this Enterprise by several Daunian Captains; but he thought it necessary for the Confederate 〈◊〉 to attack Adrastus his Camp at the same time, that in the noiseand hurry of Action, he might with greater Facility make his Escape, and carry away his Wife too; and if he could not compass this last Thing, after he had killed the King, he was content to Die. As soon as Dioscorus had explained his Design to the Kings, they all turned themselves toward Telemachus, thereby signifying they desired a direction in this matter from him. The Gods, said he, who have preserved us from Traitors, forbid us to make use of 'em; and if we had not Virtue enough to detest the Treason, our Interest alone would be sufficient to make us reject it; when we have once authorised it by our Example, we shall deserve to have it turned against us; and who among us from that Moment will be safe? 'Tis possible Adrastus may escape the Blow that threatens him, and may make it fall upon the Confederate Princes; and then War will become quite another Thing, Wisdom and Virtue will be of no manner of use, and nothing will be seen but Frauds, Treasons and Assassinations; I therefore conclude we ought to send this Traitor back to Adrastus; I cofess the King does not deserve it, but all Hesperia, and all Greece, who have their Eyes upon us deserve, that we should conduct ourselves so as to gain their Esteem; we owe ourselves, and in short we owe the just Gods such a Testimony as this of our Horror of Treachery. Dioscorus was immediately sent to Adrastus, who trembled to think of the Danger he had been in, and mightily wondered at the Generosity of his Enemies; for ill Men know not how to comprehend what pure Virtue is. Adrastus was obliged whether he would or no to admire what he saw, but durst not commend it. This noble Action of the Allies, recalled the shameful Remembrance, both of all his Treacheries, and all his Cruelties; he would fain have extenuated the Generosity of his Enemies, yet was ashamed to appear Ungrateful, while he owed 'em his Life; but Men that are corrupted soon harden themselves against every Thing that touches 'em. Adrastus' observing, that the Reputation of the Allies daily augmented, thought himself obliged to perform some Action against 'em that might make a Noise in the World; and since he could not do a Virtuous one, he was desirous at least of obtaining some great Advantage over 'em by Arms, and therefore made what haste he could to Fight.  
The Day of Battle being come, scarce had Aurora opened the oriental Gates to the Sun in a Path strowed with Roses, when the young Telemachus, by his early Care outstripped the Vigilance of the oldest Captains, by throwing off the soft Embraces of Sleep, and putting all the Officers in Motion; already his Helmet covered with his floating Hair glittered on his Head; and his Cuirass dazzled the Eyes of the whole Army; it was the Work of Vulcan, and had besides its natural Beauty, the Lustre of a shining Breastplate that was placed under it: He held a Spear in one Hand, and pointed with the other to the divers Posts that 'twas necessary to possess. Minerva had filled his Eyes with a divine Fire, and his Countenance with an awful Majesty, which began already to promise Victory. He marched, and all the Kings forgetting their Age and Dignity, found themselves attracted by a superior Power, which obliged 'em to follow his Steps. Weak Jealousy could enter their Breasts no more. Every thing gives way to him whom Minerva insensibly Leads by the Hand. His Action had nothing in it that was Impetuous or Precipitant; he was Mild, Calm, Patient, always ready to hear others, and to profit by their Advice; but Active, Sagacious, Attentive to the remotest Exigences, disposing all Things to the best Advantage; not embarrasing himself with any Thing, nor perplexing others; excusing Faults, rectifying Mistakes, preventing Difficulties, never requiring too much of any one, and every where inspiring Freedom and Confidence; if he gave an Order, it was in the most simple and plain Terms; he repeated it, the better to inform the Mind of him that was to put it in Execution. He saw by his Eyes whether he comprehended it aright. He afterwards made him familiarly express, how he understood his Words, and what was the principal Scope of the Attempt. When he had thus made Proof of the good Sense of the Person he sent, and had made him enter into his Designs, he never let him go, till he had given him some Mark of his Esteem and Confidence, to encourage him; so that all he sent from him, were full of Zeal to please him, and a fervent Desire to succeed in their Undertake: But they were not tormented with Fear that he would impute to them their ill Success; for he excused all Faults that did not arise from an ill Disposition of Mind.  
The Horizon appeared Red, and inflamed with the Sun's Morning-Rays; the Sea was filled with the bright Reflection of the rising Day; all the Coast was covered with Men, Horses and Chariots, all in Motion; which made a confused Noise, like that of the angry Waves, when Neptune stirs up dismal Tempests at the bottom of his deep Territories. Thus Mars began by the Noise of Arms, and the dreadful preparations of War, to sow Rage in every Heart. The Field was full of bristling Pikes, thick set like a Crop of Corn that covers a fruitful Field at the time of Harvest; there soon arose a Cloud of Dust, which veiled both Heaven and Earth from the Eyes of Men; Darkness, Bloodshed, Horror and merciless Death advanced apace. Scarce were the first Arrows Shot, when Telemachus with his Eyes and Hands towards Heaven, pronounced these Words. O Jupiter, Father of the Gods and Men! Behold, behold on our side Justice and Peace, which we have not been ashamed to pursue: 'Tis with Regret we Fight; we would willingly be sparing of humane Blood; we do not hate even such an Enemy as this, though he is Cruel, Perfidious and Sacrilegious; Behold, and give a decision between him and us. If we must Die, our Lives are in our Hands. If we must deliver Hesperia, and humble this Tyrant, it will be thy Power, and the Wisdom of Minerva, thy Daughter, that will give us the Victory; and the Glory of it will be due to you. 'Tis you that hold the Balance, and regulate the Fate of Battles; we Fight for you, and seeing you are Just, Adrastus is more your Enemy than ours. If your Cause prove Victorious, before the end of the Day, the Blood of a whole Hecatomb shall flow upon your Altars. No sooner had he thus spoken, but he pushed on his fiery and foaming Coursers into the closest Ranks of the Enemy. He presently met with Periander the Locrian, covered with the Skin of a Lion which he had killed in Sicily, when he travelled thither. He was armed like Hercules, with a prodigious Club; in Strength and Stature he was like the ancient Giants. When he saw Telemachus, he despised his Youth, and the Beauty of his Countenance. Is it not, says he, a pretty Business for thee, thou young effeminate Spark, to dispute with us the Glory of Battle? Go Child, get thee among the Shades, to seek thy Father; in speaking which Words, he lifted up his heavy Club, which was full of Knots, and armed with Iron Spikes; it was so big and long, that it looked like the Mast of a Ship: Every one near was afraid of being crushed by the fall of it. It most threatened Telemachus his Head; but he avoided the Stroke, and flew upon Periander as swiftly as an Eagle cuts through the Air. The Club fell upon the Wheel of a Chariot, near that of Telemachus, and broke it; in the mean time the young Greek struck a Dart into Periander's Throat. The Blood that ran bubbling out in abundance from the wide Wound, soon suffocated his Voice; his furious Horses no longer felt any restraint from his fainting Hand, but ran madly up and down with the Reins hanging loose upon their Necks; he soon fell from his Chariot, with his Eyes already closed from the Light, and pale Death was already painted on his deformed Visage: Telemachus moved with pity towards him, immediately gave his Body to his Domestics; and kept the Lion's Skin together with his Club, as a Mark of his Victory. After this he sought for Adrastus in the Body of the Army, and in his way precipitated into Hell a Multitude of Warriors. Hileus, who had his Chariot drawn by two Courses, like those of the Sun, which were fed in those vast Meadows which Aufidus Waters. Dimoleon, who formerly in Sicily had almost equalled Erix in Combat for the embroidered Girdle. Cranter, who had been the Host and Friend of Hercules, when this Son of Jupiter was going into Hesperia, where he killed the infamous Cacus. Menecrates, who was said to resemble Pollux in Wrestling. Hippocon the Salapian, who imitated the peaceful Addresses of Castor in the management of a Horse. The famous Hunter Eurimedes, who was always stained with the Blood of Beasts and wild Boars, which he killed on the Ridges of the cold Apennine, which are covered with Snow; who is said to have been so dear to Diana, that she taught him herself to handle the Bow. Nicostrasius who had quered a Giant, that vomited Fire in the Rocks of Mount Gargan. Eleanthus, who was to espouse the Young Pholoe, Daughter of the River Lyris. She had been promised by her Father, to the Person that should deliver her from a Winged Serpent, that was bred on the Banks of the River, and would have devoured her in a few Days, according to the Prediction of an Oracle. This Young Man prompted by an extraordinary love to her, ventured his Life to kill this Monster; he succeeded in the Attempt, but could not taste the Fruit of his Victory; for while Pholoe was preparing for the Rights of Charming Hymen, and expected Eleanthus with impatience; she was informed that he followed Adrastus into the Wars, and that the Destinies had cruelly cut off his Days. This News made her fill the Woods and Mountains near the River with her Groans; she drowned her Eyes in Tears, and tore off her lovely Hair. She forgot the Garlands of Flowers she was wont to gather; and accused Heaven of Injustice, because she incessantly wept Day and Night; the Gods touched with her Complaints, and moved by the Prayers of the River put an end to her Sorrow; for she poured out such abundance of Tears, that she was instantly turned into a Fountain, which running into the Bosom of the River, seeks to join her Waters with those of the God her Father; but the Water of this Fountain is still bitter; Grass never grows upon the Bank of it, nor is any Shade to be found on the sides of it, but that of mournful Cypress Trees.  
But to return: Adrastus perceiving that Telemachus spread Terror on every side, sought after him with the utmost diligence, hoping easily to Conquer the Son of Ulysses, in an Age as yet so tender. He was attended with Thirty Daunians, of extraordinary Strength, Dexterity, and Boldness, to whom he promised very great Rewards, if thy could any way in the World kill Telemachus in Battle. And if they had met him just at this time of the Fight, without doubt these Thirty Men, by surroundings his Chariot, while Adrastus would have attacked him in the Front, would have found no great difficulty in dispatching him. But Minerva turned 'em out of their way. Adrastus' thought he saw, and heard Telemachus in a low part of the Plain, at the foot of a Hill, where a great number of Soldiers were closely engaged. Hither he runs, or rather flies, with an eager Desire to satiate himself with Blood; but instead of Telemachus, he finds the Aged Nestor, who with his trembling Hand, was throwing Darts at a venture, tho' he did little or no Execution: Adrastus in his fury would have run him through, had not a Troop of Pylians thrown themselves round about Nestor: A Cloud of Darts then soon obscured the Air, and covered all the Combatants; nothing was to be heard but the Woeful Cries of dying Men, and the clashing of the Arms of those that fell in among the Crowd; the Earth groaned under Heaps of dead Bodies; Torrents of Blood ran on all sides; Bellona and Mars, together with the Infernal Furies, clothed with Robes all over running down with Blood, glutted their hollow Eyes with this Spectacle, and incessantly renewed a Marshal Rage in the Hearts of the Combatants; these Deities, who are the Enemies of Men, chased far away from both Parties, generous Pity, moderated Valour, and sweet Humanity. There was nothing among these confused Heaps of Men enraged one against another, but Slaughter, Revenge, Despair and brutish Fury. The Wife and Invincible Pallas herself, trembled at the sight, and started back with horror. In the mean time Philoctetus marched on by degrees, with the Arrows of Hercules in his Hands, endeavouring to come to the Relief of Nestor. Adrastus not able to reach the Divine Old Man, had pierced several Pylians with his Darts, and made 'em lick the Dust. He overthrew Eusilas, who was so swift a Runner, that he scarce left the print of his Steps upon the Sand, and in his own Country, outstripped the most rapid Streams of the Eurotas, and the Alpheus. At his Feet fell Entiphon, who was more Beautiful than Hylas, and as violent a Hunter as Hippolytus. Pterelas, who had followed Nestor to the Siege of Troy, and whom Achilles himself loved for his Courage and Strength: Aristogiton, who by bathing in the Waters of the River Achelous, had friendly received of this God, the power of assuming all sorts of Forms; in short, he was so supple and nimble in all his Motions, that he escaped the Hands of the strongest Warriors; but Adrastus with one thrust of his Spear, deprived him of all Motion, and soon let out his Blood and Soul together.  
Nestor seeing his most Valiant Captains fall by the Hand of Adrastus, as the gilded Ears of Corn in time of Harvest, fall under the keen Sickle of the Indefatigable Reaper, forgot his own Danger, and needlessly exposed himself. He threw away his Old Age, and thought of nothing but how to follow his Son Pisistratus, in keeping his Eyes intent on him, who on his side was very warmly engaged, to keep off Danger from his Father. But the fatal Moment was come, in which Pisistratus was to make Nestor feel how unfortunate a Man may be in living too long. Pisistratus pushed his Spear with such violence against Adrastus, that this Daunian Prince must needs have fallen, but that he avoided the Stroke; and while Pisistratus who was somewhat discomposed by the false Thrust he had 〈◊〉 was recovering his Spear, 〈◊〉 pierced him with a Javesin in the middle of his Folly. His Bowels immediately began to come out with a Torrent of Blood. His lively Colour vanished like that of a Flower, after the Hand of some Nymph has gathered it in the Meadow; his Eyes were already almost extinguished, and his Speech faltered, when Alisius his Governor, who 〈◊〉 near him, supported him just as he was falling, and had only time to 〈◊〉 him to his Father, and throw him into his Arms; then he would fain have) spoken, and have given him the last marks of his tender Affection, but as he opened his Mouth to speak, he expired.  
While, 〈◊〉 spread Slaughter and Horror round him, in 〈◊〉 the Efforts of Adrastus; Nestor held the Body of his Son closely grasped in his Arms, and filled the Air with lamentable Cries, not being able to 〈◊〉 the Light any longer. All unfortunate 〈◊〉 that I am, said he, that I have been a Father, and lived so long! Alas! ye cruel Destinies, why did you not end my Life, either 〈◊〉 Hunting the 〈◊〉 Boar, or in my 〈◊〉 Voyage, or at the first Siege of 〈◊〉 Than I should have died with Glory, and without bitterness and Sorrow. Now I carry with me a 〈◊〉 despissed, and impotent Old. Age I now live only to suffer 〈◊〉 and have no other 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 me, but that of Sorrow. O my Son! my Son! O my dear Son 〈◊〉 When I lost they Brother 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 waste my 〈◊〉 but now I have thee no more, now I have nothing left; nothing can yield me any Consolation more: All is at an End with me. Hope, the only mitigation of Human 〈◊〉 is an Advantage in which I have no Interest. O 〈◊〉 O 〈◊〉 my dear Children, this seems to me the 〈◊〉 Day wherein I lose you both. The Death of one opens again the Wound which that of the other had made in the bottom of my Heart. I shall never see either of you again: Who now shall close my Eyes? Who shall gather up my Ashes? O Pisistratus, thou didst die as well as thy Brother, a Valiant Man; 'tis only I that cannot tell how to die. In uttering these Words he would have pierced himself with a Dart which he held in his Hand, if he had not been prevented by those that were about him; after which they took from him the Body of his Son; and this unfortunate Old Man falling into a Swoon, they carried him into his Tent, when after he had a little recovered his Spirits, he would have returned into the Battle, which they would by no means suffer him to do.  
In the mean time Adrastus and Philoctetus were searching for each other. Their Eyes sparkled like those of a Lion and a Leopard, that are seeking to devour one another in those Fields which Cocyties waters. Menaces, warlike Rage, and cruel Revenge glitter in their furious Eyes; they bring certain Death wherever they throw their Darts. All the Soldiers beheld 'em with Terror: And now they see one another: Philoctetus held in his Hand, one of those terrible Arrows, which never failed to do Execution in his Hands, and made Wounds that were incurable. But Mars who favoured the Cruel and Intrepid Adrastus, would not suffer him to die so soon; having a Desire, by his means, to prolong the Horrors of War, and multiply. Slaughter and Cruelty. Adrastus' his Life was yet owing to the Justice of the Gods, as their Scourge to punish Men, and shed their Blood. In the very Moment Philoctetus designed to attack him, he was himself wounded by the thrust of a Spear, given him by Amphimachus, a young Lucanian, whose Beauty exceeded the famous Niceus, as the Beauty of this latter gave place to none, but that of Achilles among all the Greeks that Wound, but he drew his Bow against 〈◊〉 and sent an Arrow to him that pienced his 〈◊〉 The Lustre of his lovely Black Eyes was instantly extinguished and covered with the Shades of Death; his Vermilion Lips whose Colour excelled that of the 〈◊〉 which oising 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 along the Horizon, grew Wan, and a dreadful Paleness 〈◊〉 his lovely Cheeks: In a word; his tender 〈◊〉 dolicate Countenance was all on a Asudden disfigured. 〈◊〉 himself could not forbear to pity him. And all the Soldiers that observed him, could not choose but sigh to see this Young Man fall, and roll in his own Blood; his Head of Hair, which, for Beauty, might vie with that of Apollo, all dishevelled and defiled in the Dust. Philoctetus' having Conquered Amphimachus, was constrained to retire from the Battle; he lost his Blood and Strength, and even his Ancient Wound, seemed in the heat of 〈◊〉 on, ready to open again, and 〈◊〉 his Pain; for the Sons of 〈◊〉 with all their Divide Art, could not entirely cure it. And now he was just ready to fall among the Heap of bleeding Bodies, that were round about him; when Archiaamus, the holdest and most dextrous of all the Thebalians that he had brought with him to Found Philelia, carried him out of the Battle, in the very moment when Adrastus would have 〈◊〉 him at his Feet with ease: And now Adrastus finds no farther 〈◊〉 none daring to resist or retard his Victory. All fall or fly before him; and he becomes like a Torrent, which having overflown its Banks, sweeps away with its fullous Waves, Corn and Cattle, Shepherds and their Cottages together.  
Telemachus hears from far the shouts of the Conquerors, and sees. the Disorders of his Men, who fled before Adrastus, as a Company of timorous Deer, traverse the vast Plains, Woods, Mountains, and even the swiftest Rivers, when pursued by the Hunters.  
Telemachus sighed; Indignation sparkles in his Eyes; he quits the Place where he had been so long fight, with so much Danger, and Glory, and runs to the Succour of his discouraged Troops. He advances, all besmeared with the Blood of a multitude of Enemies, whom he had spread upon the Dust. He gives a shout at a distance, that was heard by both Armies: Minerva had put something unexpressibly terrible, both in his Eyes and Voice, with which he made the neighbouring Mountains echo. Never did Mars make his own cruel Voice to be heard louder in Thrace, when he called upon the infernal Furies, War and Death, to attend him. This shout of Telemachus, inspired the Hearts of his Soldiers with Courage and Boldness, and fills the Souls of his Enemies with Fear and Dread. Adrastus is ashamed to feel himself thus disordered. I know not how many fatal Presages fills him with Terror; and that which animates him, is rather Despair, than true Valour, which is accompanied with Tranquillity of Mind. Three times his trembling Knees began to slip away from under him; three times he stepped back without thinking what he was doing; a faint Paleness and a cold Sweat ran through all his Limbs; his hoarse and faltering Voice could not finish any Sentence; his Eyes, full of gloomy Fire, sparkled and looked as if they would start out of his Head; he seemed agitated by the Furies, like Orestes; all his Motions were Convulsive; he thought he saw the Gods, irritated against him; and that he heard a whispering Voice proceeding from the bottom of Hell, to call him into black 〈◊〉 every thing made him sensible there was a 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 Hand waving over his Head, which was going to 〈◊〉 its Force, in 〈◊〉 him 〈◊〉 Hope was extinguished at the 〈◊〉 of his Heart; his Resolution was 〈◊〉 and disappeared like the Light of the Day, when the Sun lies down in the Bosom of the Sea, and the Earth wraps herself in the Shades of the Night. The impious Adrastus, too long suffered upon the Earth; too long, if Mankind had not stood in need of such a Scourge, the impious Adrastus, in sine, draws near his last Hour, he runs like a mad Man to meet his inevitablo Fare: Horror, cutting Remorse, Consternation, Fury, Rage, and Despair, march along with him. No sooner does he see Telemachus, but he thinks he sees Avertius open itself; and the rolling Flames of black Phlegeton ready to dovour him. He cries out, and his Mouth remain open without being 〈◊〉 Man 〈◊〉 who 〈◊〉 frightfuli Dream opens his Mouth, and makes attempts no speak but still wants 〈◊〉 and seeks it in 〈◊〉 However, 〈◊〉 with a trembling and 〈◊〉 Hand, throws his Dart at Telemachus; while the latter, intrepid. and calm as the Minds of the Gods, defends himself with his Buokler; Victory covering. him with her Wings, seems already to hold a Crown over his Head; a sweet and orderly Courage shines in his Eyes; one would have taken him for Minerva herself, he appeared so wise and regular in the midst of the greatest Dangers. The Dart which Adrastus cast being repulsed by his Buckler, Adrastus made haste to draw his Sword to hinder 〈◊〉 Son of the Advantage of taking 〈◊〉 turn to throw his Dart at him: 〈◊〉 seeing Adrastus' Sword in his Hand, betakes himself immed 〈◊〉 to his own, omitting to throw his Dart. When they were seen in this Posture of fight one another hand to hand; all the rest of the Soldiers laid down their Arms in silence, to look upon 'em with the greatest Attention, expecting from their single Engagement the destiny of the whole War. The two Swords glittered like the Lightning which sends forth terrible Claps of Thunder, they often cross one another, and deal Blows without Execution on their polished Armour, which resounded with the heavy strokes. The two Combatants stretch out and recover themselves, stoop down and rise up all in an instant; and in fine, they fall to grappling: The Ivy that grows at the Foot of a young Elm, does not more straight wreath its twining Branches about the hard and knotty Trunk, till it climbs up to the lostiest Boughs of the Tree, than these two Combatants Clasp and Lock one another. Adrustus had yet lost nothing of his Strength, and Telemachus had not mustered all his together. Adrastus made several Efforts to surprise his Enemy, and over-set him; he endeavours to seize the Sword of the young Greek, but in vain; while he attempts this, Telemachus takes him up from the Ground, and throws him flat upon the Sand: Then this impious Prince, that had always contemned the Gods, manifested an unmanly fear of Death; he is ashamed to beg Life, yet can't help signifying that he desired it; he endeavours to move the Compassion of Telemachus by such words as these: O thou Son of Ulysses, says he, I now at last acknowledge that the Gods are Just; they punish me according to my 〈◊〉 'Tis only by Calamities that the Eyes of Men are opened to see the Truth; I see it, and it condemns me: But let an unfortunate King put you in mind of your Father, who is remote from 〈◊〉 and let the thoughts of this 〈◊〉 your Heart.  
〈◊〉 who was holding him under his Knees, and had his Sword already lifted up to kill him, 〈◊〉 answered, I desire not 〈◊〉 but Victory, and the Peace of the Nations which I came to 〈◊〉 I have ho 〈◊〉 in shedding Blood. Live therefore, O 〈◊〉 but live to make Reparation for your Faults; 〈◊〉 all that you have 〈◊〉 re-establish Tranquillity and Justice in the Confines of the great Hesperia, which you have defiled with so many Massacres and Treacheries. Live and become another Man; learn by your Fall, that the Gods are Just, and that the Wicked are Miserable; that they deceive themselves in seeking Happihess, in Violence, Barbarity and Fraud: In short, that nothing is so happy and sweet as simple and steady Virtue. Give us for Hostages your Son Metrodorus, with twelve of the principal Nobles of your 〈◊〉 A those words, 〈◊〉 suffers him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and gives him his Hand, not, suspecting his 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 threw at-him the 〈◊〉 time a short 〈◊〉 which he kept 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was so 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 with that force, that it would have 〈◊〉 Telemachus' Armour, had it not been made by a Divine Hand; at the same time 〈◊〉 cast himself behind a Tree, to avoid the 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 Upon this, the latter cries out, O 〈◊〉 the Victory's ours! This impious Man saves himself. only by his Treachery; he who fears not the Gods, fears Death; on the contrary, he that fears them, has nothing else to fear. In uttering these words, he advances towards the Daunians, and gives a sign to his Men that were on the other side of the Tree, to cut off the Retreat of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Adrastus fearing he should be taken, makes as if he would return the same way he came, and went to fall upon the Cretans, that stood obstruct his Passage; when on a sudden, Telemachus, swift as the Thunder which the Father of the Gods shoots from high Olympus upon guilty Heads, falls upon his Enemy; he seizes him with his victorious Hand, casts him upon the Ground, as the violent Northwind beats down the tender Ears of Corn that gild the Field He now will hear no more, tho' the impious Wretch once again essays to abuse the Goodness of his generous Mind; he instantly thrusts his Sword into his Bowels, and precipitates him into the Flames of black Cocytus, a Punishment worthy of his Crimes.  
Adrastus was scarce dead, when all the Daunians were so far from deploring their Defeat, and the loss of their General, that they rejoiced at their Deliverance, and held out their Hands to the Allies in sign of Peace and Reconciliation. Metrodorus the Son of Adrastus, whom his Father had educated in Maxims of Dissimulation, Injustice, and Inhumanity, fled away like a Coward: But a Slave that was an Accomplice of his Infamies and Cruelties, whom he had infranchized and loaded with Favours, and in whose hands alone he trusted himself in his Flight, thought of nothing but how to betray him for his own Interest. He killed him as he fled, by giving him a Wound in the Back, cut off his Head, and brought it into the Confederate Camp, hoping to receive a great Recompense for a Crime that finished the War: But the Act of this Villain was abhorred, and he put to Death. Telemachus having seen the Head of Metrodorus, who was a young Prince of wonderful Beauty, and of an excellent natural Temper, tho' corrupted by Pleasures and vicious Examples, could not restrain his Tears. Alas! cried he, here is what the Poison of Prosperity does for a young Prince; the more Elevation and Vivacity of Mind he has, the more he wanders and becomes a Stranger to all Sentiments of true Virtue; and now it may be my Condition had been like his, if the Misfortunes in which I was born and educated, Thanks be to the Gods, and to the Instructions of Mentor, had not taught me to govern myself.  
The assembled Daunians desired, as the only Condition of Peace, that they might be permitted to make 'em a King of their own Nation, who might by his Virtue's 〈◊〉 the Reproach which the impious Adrastus had brought upon the Crown. They thanked the Gods for having cut off the Tyrant, and came in Multitudes to kiss the Hand of Telemachus, which had been imbrued in the Blood of that Monster; so that their Defeat was a Triumph to 'em. Thus, in a moment, fell that Power without possibility of Recovery which 〈◊〉 all the rest in Hesperia, and made for many Nations, tremble; like those 〈◊〉 of made Ground that appear firm and immovable, 〈◊〉 by degrees are mouldering below for a great, while the feeble Work of 〈◊〉 the Foundations is derided; nothing appears the 〈◊〉 for it, all is stable, nothing so much as shakes, yet all the subterranean Props are gradually destroyed to the Foundation, and all on a sudden the 〈◊〉 sinks, and opens a prodigious Pit. Thus an unjust and fraudulent Power, what Prosperity soever it acquires by its Violences, digs a Precipice under its own Feet; Fraud and Cruelty gradually undermine all the firmest Foundations of unlawful Authority. Men admire it, fear it, tremble before it, till the moment it vanishes; it falls with its own weight, and nothing can raise it again, because it has with its own Hands destroyed the true Props of Sincerity and Justice, which attract Love and Confidence.  
The chief Commanders of the Army the next Day assembled to grant the Daunians a King. It was a very pleasant Thing to see the two Camps confounded together, by so unexpected a Friendship, so that the two Armies now made but one; the wise Nestor could not assist at this Council, because his Grief, added to his old Age, had withered his Heart, just as a Storm of Rain in the Evening beats down a Flower, and makes it languish, which in the Morning while Aurora was rising, was the Glory and Ornament of the verdant Fields. His Eyes were become two Springs of Tears, that could not be exhausted; soft Sleep that Charms the acutest Pains, fled far away from him. Hope, which is the Life of a Man's Heart, was extinct in him; all Food was bitter to this unfortunate old Man; the Light was odious to him, his Soul desired nothing but to Die, and plunge himself into the eternal Night of Pluto's Empire. In vain did all his Friends speak to him; his sinking Heart was disgusted with all Friendship, as a sick Man disrelishes the most dainty Meats. To all that could be said to him, to make the deepest Impression on his Mind, he returned nothing but deep Sighs and Groans. From time to time he was heard to say, O Pisistratus, Pisistratus, Pisistratus, my Son, thou call'st me away, I'll follow thee, thou wilt render Death sweet to me. O my Son! all the Happiness I now desire, is to see thee again on the Banks of Styx. He passed whole Hours without uttering one Word, but was still Groaning, and lifting up his Hands and Eyes all drowned in Tears to Heaven.  
In the mean time the Princes being assembled, were expecting Telemachus, who was by the Body of Pisistratus; he strewed handfuls of 〈◊〉 upon the Corpse, to which he added exquisite Perfumes, and poured forth bitter Tears; O my dear Companion, said he, I shall never forget how I saw thee at Pilos, and how I followed thee to Sparta, how I found thee again on the Coasts of the great Hesperia. I owe thee a Thousand and a Thousand kind Offices; I Loved thee, and thou hadst a like Love for me; I knew thy Valour, it 〈◊〉 that of many famous Greeks. But alas! 'tis extinguished with thy Glory; 'twas thy Valour that has robbed the World of that improving Virtue of thine, which would have equalled that of the greatest Men. Yes, thy Wisdom and thy Eloquence in a riper Age, would have resembled the like Endowments in the most celebrated Men of Greece. Thou hadst already acquired that sweet Insinuation, that could not be resisted when thou spakest, those natural and lively ways of relating Matters; that prudent Moderation which is a Charm to appease irritated Minds; that Authority which proceeds from Prudence and the force of good Counsels. When thou spokest, every Ear was attentive; all were prepossessed in thy Favour, every one was willing to find Reason on thy side. Thy Speech that was plain and simple, void of Pomp, sweetly instilled itself into Men's Souls, like the Dew upon the 〈◊〉 Grass. But alas! all those Advantages which we were in possession of a few Hours ago, are taken away from us for even Pisistratus, whom I embraced this Morning, is now no more. We have nothing remaining but the sad remembrance of him. 〈◊〉 That thou hadst closed the Eyes of Nestor; and that we had not all been so unhappy to see thine closed; he would not then have seen what he is now forced to behold; he would not then have been the most unhappy Father in the World.  
After these Words, Telemachus caused the bloody Wound which was in the side of Pisistratus to be washed; he ordered him to be laid out upon a purple Bed, where his Head inclining on his Shoulder with the paleness of Death, resembled a young Tree, which having covered the Earth with its Shadow, and stretched its flourishing Boughs towards Heaven, is wounded by the Edge of the Woodman's Axe; it no longer holds by its own Root, nor by the Earth, that fruitful Mother that nourishes her Branches in her Bosom; it languishes, its Verdure decays, and being no longer able to bear up, down it falls; its wide and thick Branches that lately were as a Veil to obscure the Light of Heaven; now lie extended in the Dust, withered and dry; 'tis now no more than a Trunk felled to the Ground, and spoiled of all its Beauties. Thus Pisistratus being become a Prey to Death, was now carried away by those who were appointed to lay him on the fatal Pile. The Flame already began to ascend toward Heaven; a Troop of Pylians with Eyes dejected and full of Tears, and with their Arms reversed with a slow and mournful Pace attended him. The Body was soon Burnt, the Ashes put into a Golden Urn; and Telemachus who took care to have all this performed, committed this Urn as a great Treasure to Callimachus, who had been Pisistratus his Governor. Keep safely, says he, these Ashes, the sad but precious Remains of him you Loved. Keep 'em for his Father, but wait till he recovers Strength enough to ask 'em before you give 'em to him; that which irritates Sorrow at one time allays it at another.  
At length Telemachus entered the Assembly of the confederate Kings, where every one kept Silence, in expectation to hear him Discourse; when he perceived it he blushed, and they could by no means engage him to Speak: The Praises that were given him by public Acclamations, and above all his late Actions augmented his bashful Disposition: So that he would have been glad to have hid himself. This was the first time that he appeared embarrassed and unsteady; in fine he desired as a Favour, that they would desist from speaking in his Praise: 'Tis not, said he, that I do not love Praises, above all when they are given by such good Judges of Virtue, but 'tis because I am afraid of Loving 'em too much; for they are apt to corrupt Men, they fill 'em with themselves, and render 'em Vain and Presumptuous. We ought both to merit 'em and avoid 'em. The justest Praises resemble those that are false and flattering. The most wicked of all Mankind, the Tyrians are those that have made themselves praised the most by servile Flatterers. What Pleasure is there in being Praised like them? Due Praises are such as you will give me in my absence, if I am so happy as to deserve 'em. If you believe me to be truly Good, you ought also to believe that I am willing to be Modest, and to be afraid of Vanity. Spare me therefore, if you value me, and do not Praise me as if I were a Man fond of Praises.  
After Telemachus had thus expressed himself, he answered not a Word more to those that continued to extol him to the very Heavens; but by an Air of Indifference he soon put a stop to the Enocomiums that were made on him; till they began to fear they should displease him in commending him. But their Admiration still increased; every one knowing the Tenderness he had manifested to Pisistratus, and the care he had taken to render him the last Devoirs; the whole Army was more touched with the Marks of Tenderness and Generosity of his Heart, than with all the Prodigies of Wisdom and Valour, that had been shining so Conspicuously in him. He is Wise, he is Valiant, said they in secret one to another; he is the Friend of the Gods, and the true Hero of our Age; he is raised a degree above Mankind: But this is only matter of Wonder, all this does no more than fill us with Astonishment; he has Humanity and Goodness, he is a Friend, he is Tender, he is Compassionate, he is Beneficent, and entirely theirs whom he ought to Love; he is the Delight of them that live with him; he divests himself of his Dignity, of his Repose, and of his Grandeur: This is that which makes him useful; this is that which touches men's Hearts; this is that which fills us with such tender Affections towards him, and renders us sensible of all his Virtues. This is that which makes us all ready to Sacrifice our Lives for him.  
These Discourses were scarce finished, when they hastened to speak of the necessity of giving a King to the Daunians. The greatest part of the Princes that were in the Council were of Opinion, that it was best to divide the Country amongst 'em as a Conquered Land; and offered Telemachus the fertile Country of Arpos, which twice a Year bears the rich Bounty of Ceres, the sweet Presents of Bacchus, and the ever green Fruits of the Olive-Tree, which is sacred to Minerva. This Land, said they, aught to make you forget poor Ithaca with its Cottages, and the frightful Rocks of Dulichia, together with the savage Woods of Zachanthus. ne'er persist longer to seek your Father, who was certainly lost in the Waves at the Promontory of Caphaneus, through the Revenge of Nauplius and the Anger of Neptune; nor your Mother who is long since in the possession of her Lovers; nor your Country, whose Soil is not favoured by Heaven, like this we now offer you. He patiently heard this Discourse, but the Rocks of Thrace and Thessaly are not more deaf and insensible of the Complaints of despairing Lovers, than Telemachus was of all these Proposals. For my part, replied he, I am not moved either with Riches or Pleasures; what signifies it to possess a greater extent of Ground, or to Command a greater Number of Men? One has therewith but the more Perplexity and the less Liberty: Life is full enough of Miseries, even for the wisest and most regulate sort of Men, without the additional Trouble of governing other Men, who are Untractable, Unquiet, Unjust, Treacherous and Ungrateful. If one has a Mind to have Dominion over Men, out of Self-love, looking at nothing but one's own Authority, Pleasures and Glory; this is to be Impious and Tyrannical, and become the Scourge of Mankind. If on the contrary I have a Mind to govern Men only according to right Rules, for their own Good; I am not so much their Master as their Guardian, I have nothing but the Trouble of it, which is infinite; and this makes me very far from desiring to enlarge the Bounds of my Authority. The Shepherd, who devours not his Flock, but defends it from the Wolves with the hazard of his Life, who watches over it Night and Day, leading it into fat Pastures, has no great Mind to augment the Number of his Sheep, and to seize on those of his Neighbours; this would be but to increase his Trouble. Although I have never governed, added Telemachus, I have learned by the Laws, and by those wise Men that made 'em, how toilsome a thing it is to have the Conduct of Cities and Kingdoms; I am therefore content with my poor Ithaca, though it be small and mean. I shall have Glory enough, provided I Reign there with Justice, Piety and Courage; and indeed I shall Reign there but too soon. May it please the Gods that my Father may escape the Fury of the Waves, and Reign there to extreme old Age, and that I may long learn under him to subdue my Passions, and to know the Art of regulating those of a whole Nation.  
Afterward he thus proceeded; Hear, O ye Princes who are here assembled, what I think I ought to tell you for your own Interest. If you procure the Daunians a just King, he'll govern them Justly; he'll make 'em sensible how much it is for their Advantage, to pursue Faith and Sincerity, and never to usurp upon their Neighbours; all which they could never come to understand under the impious Adrastus. As long as they shall continue under the conduct of a just and moderate Prince, you will have nothing to fear from them; they will owe you this good King, whom they have received from your Hands; they will owe you all the Peace and Prosperity which they shall enjoy under his Government. These People will be so far from attacking you, that they will incessantly bless you; both the King and People will be the Work of your Hands. If on the contrary, you resolve to share their Country among you; I'll undertake to predict the Mischiess that will ensue. These People driven to Despair, will begin a new War. They will have a just Cause to take up Arms for their Liberty. The Gods, who are mortal Enemies to Tyranny, will fight for 'em; and if the Gods intermeddle with the Quarrel, sooner or later you will be confounded, and all your Prosperity will be dissipated like Smoke. Counsel and Wisdom will be taken away from your Commanders, and Courage from your Armies, and Plenty from your Lands: You will flatter yourselves, and act with precipitancy in your Erterprises; you will silence Men of Integrity, when they go about to tell you the Truth; you will fall on a sudden, and it will be said of you; Are these then the flourishing Nations that were to give Laws to all the World, and now they fly before their Enemies? They are the Sport of other Nations, who trample you under their Feet: This is the Work of the Gods; this is what a People of Unjust, Proud, and Inhuman Minds deserve. Besides consider, if you attempt to divide this Conquest among you, you re unite all the Neighbouring Nations against you. Your League formed to defend the common Liberty of Hesperia, against Adrastus the Usurper, will become odious; and 'tis you that all the World will with good Reason Accuse of having aspired to Usurp an Universal Tyranny. But we'll suppose you should prove Victorious both over the Daunians, and all other Nations that shall assist 'em; this Victory will destroy you, and this I'll make out to you. Consider, this Enterprise will dis-unite you all; for since 'tis not founded upon Justice, you will have no Rule among you to bond each others Pretensions; every one will have a Mind that his part of the Conquest should be proportionate to his Power: None of you will have Authority enough over all those Nations, to make this Division peaceably; And this will be the source of a War, of which the Youngest of your Children will not see an end. Is it not much more eligible to be Just and Regular, than to follow one's Ambition through so much Danger, and amidst so many inevitable Misfortunes? Are not profound Peace, the sweet and Innocent Pleasures that accompany it, the Happiness of Plenty, the Friendship of Neighbours, the Glory which is inseparable from Justice, the Authority which is acquired, in rendering one's self by Fidelity and Sincerity, the Arbiter of all Foreign Nations; are not these, I say, Advantages much more desirable, than the foolish Vanity of anunjust Conquest? O Princes! Oh Kings! you see I speak to you without seeking any Interest of my own: Harken therefore to one who loves you so well, as even to contradict and displease you, in setting the Truth before you in a clear Light.  
While Telemachus spoke thus with an Air of Authority, which they had never seen in any other; all the Princes struck with astonishment and in suspense, admired the Wisdom of his Counsels: There was heard a confused Noise, which spread itself throughout the Camp, and came to the very Place where the Assembly was held. A Stranger (say they) is come on Shore on these Coasts, with a Troop of Armed Men; this unknown Person is of a lofty Mien; every thing in him appears Heroic; 'tis easy to discern that he has been long harassed with Sufferings; and that his great Courage has set him above all his Calamities. At first, the People of the Country who guard the Coasts, would have repulsed him as an Enemy that was coming to make an Invasion; but after having drawn his Sword with an Air of Intrepidity, he declared that he knew how to defend himself if he were attacked, but that he asked nothing but Peace and Hospitality. Immediately he presented an Olive Branch as a Suppliant; upon this he was heard; he desired to be brought to those that govern in this part of Hesperia, and therefore he is conducted hither, to speak to the Assembled Kings.  
This Discourse was scarce finished, but this Stranger was seen to enter with a Majesty that surprised the whole Assembly. One might easily have been induced to believe he was the God Mars, he was so like him when he assembles his bloody Troops upon the Thracian Mountains. He addressed himself to them after this manner.  
O ye Shepherds of the People, who without doubt are here assembled either for the Defence of your Countries against your Enemies, or to make 'em flourish by your Righteous Laws: Harken to a Man who has been Persecuted by Fortune. (May it please the Gods that you never experience the like Misfortune) I am Diomedes King of Etolia, who incensed Venus at the Siege of Troy; the Revenge of this Goddess pursues me throughout the Universe. Neptune who can refuse nothing to the Divine Daughter of the Sea, has delivered me up to the Rage of the Winds and Waves, which have often dashed me against the Rocks. The inexorable Venus has deprived me of all Hope of ever seeing again my Kingdom, my Family, and the sweet Light of that Country, where I first saw the Day at my Birth; no, I shall never more see what is most dear to me in the World. I now am come, after so many Shipwrecks, to seek on this unknown Shore, a little Repose, and a safe Retreat; if you fear the Gods, and above all, Jupiter, who has a respect for Strangers, and taketh care of 'em; if you have any sentiment of Compassion, do not refuse me in these vast Countries, some spot of Barren Ground, some desert Shades, or craggy Rocks, that I with my Companions, may Found a City there, which may be at least, the Melancholy Image of our lost Country. We ask but a little Ground in a useless place; we'll live in Peace with you in a strict Alliance; your Enemies shall be ours; we'll enter into all your Interests; we only desire the Liberty of living according to our own Laws.  
While Diomedes spoke thus, Telemachus, who kept his Eyes attentively fixed on him, showed all the different Passions in his own Countenance. When Diomedes began to speak of his long Misfortunes, he was in Hope it was his Father. As soon as he had declared himself to be Diomedes, Telemachus his Countenance languished like a Flower which the Envious Northwind had just withered with its cruel Blast. The following Words of Diomedes complaining of the Anger of a Deity, melted him with the Remembrance of the same Disgraces suffered by his Father and himself; Tears mixed with both Grief and Joy, ran down his Cheeks, and he instantly threw himself upon Diomedes to embrace him. I am, says he, the Son of Ulysses, whom you once knew, and who was not unuseful to you, when you took the famous Horses of Rhesus; the Gods have treated him as well as you without Pity: If the Oracles of Erebus deceive us not, he is still alive; but alas! he is not alive to me: I have left Ithaca to seek him; and now I cannot see either Ithaca or him again: Judge by my Misfortunes, what Compassion I have for others. The Advantage that is gained by Calamities, is to know how to sympathise with others in the like Troubles. Tho' I am but a Stranger here, I am able, O Great Diomedes (for in spite of all the Calamities that overwhelmed my Country during my Infancy, I have not been so ill Educated as to be Ignorant of the Glory you have acquired in Battle) I am able, O Prince most Invincible of all the Greeks, next to Achilles, to procure you some Relief. These Princes you see here, are Men of Humanity, without which they know there is no true Virtue, nor Courage, nor solid Glory. Misfortune adds a new Lustre to the Glory of great Men; they still want something, while they know not what 'tis to be Unfortunate. Examples of Patience and Firmness of Mind, are, till then, wanting in their Lives. Suffering Virtue softens all Hearts that have any virtuous Relish; leave to us therefore the care of consolating you; seeing the Gods have brought you to us, we receive you as a Present which they make us, and aught to esteem ourselves Happy, that we are in a Capacity to alleviate your Afflictions.  
While he spoke, Diomedes, struck with Wonder, looked intently on him, and felt a great Emotion in his Heart; they embraced one another, as if they had been united in the strictest Bonds of Friendship. O Worthy Son of the Wise Ulysses, said Diomedes, I discern in you the Sweetness of his Countenance, the Grace of his Discourse, the Force of his Eloquence, the Elevation of his Sentiments, and the Wisdom of his Thoughts. In the mean time Philoctetus in the like manner Embraces the Son of Tideus; they related to one another their sad Adventures; after which, says Philoctetus to him, without doubt, you will be glad to see the Wise Nestor; he has lately lost Pisistratus, the last of his Children, and now there remains nothing more to him in this Life, but a Way of Tears to lead him to his Tomb. Come and try to comfort him; a Friend under the Frowns of Fortune, is more proper than another to allay the Sorrows of his Heart. They immediately went into Nestor's Tent, who scarce knew Diomedes, Sorrow had so depressed his Spirit and Senses. Diomedes presently fell to weeping with him, and their Interview served, at first, only to redouble their Sorrow; but by degrees the presence of this Friend appeased the Grief of the good Old Man; and one might easily discern, that his Sorrow was in some measure suspended, by the Pleasure of relating what he had suffered, and of hearing on the other side, what had befallen Diomedes.  
While they thus entertained one another, the Kings assembled with Telemachus, were examining what they ought to do. Telemachus advised them to give Diomedes the Country of Argos, and to choose Polydamas for King of the Daunians, who was of their own Nation. This Polydamas was a famous Captain whom Adrastus, through Jealousy, was never willing to employ, left the Success, all the Glory of which he promised himself alone, should be attributed to the Conduct of this able Man. Polydamas had in particular often advertised him that he too much exposed his own Life, and the Safety of his Country in this War against so many Confederate Nations: He would often have engaged him to keep a more regular and even Conduct with his Neighbours. But those Men that hate Truth, also hate such as have the boldness to declare it to 'em; they are not affected either with their Sincerity, or their Zeal, or their Disinteressedness. A deceitful Prosperity hardened Adrastus' Heart against his most salutary Counsels. In not following them he every day triumphed over his Enemies. Pride, Fraud, and Violence still brought Victory on his side; none of the Misfortunes that had been so long threatened by Polydamas, befell him. Adrastus' laughed at that timorous Prudence, which is always foreseeing Inconveniences. Polydamas at length became intolerable to him; he removed him from all Places of Trust, and left him to languish in Solitude and Poverty. Polydamas was at first overborn with this Disgrace, but it soon yielded him what he wanted; in opening his Eyes to see the Vanity of great Fortunes, he became Wise at his own Cost; he began to congratulate himself on his Misfortunes; he gradually learned to Act, and live in good earnest, calmly to nourish his Soul with Truth, to cultivate in himself those secret Virtues, which are even more estimable than those that make the greatest show and noise in the World. In fine, to know how to live without Men, He dwelled at the foot of Mount Gargan, in a Desert, where a vaulted Rock served for his House, a Rivulet that ran down from the Mountain appeased his Thirst, some Trees that grew there, yielding him their Fruits; he had some Slaves that cultivated a little Field for him, in which he wrought with them with his own Hands; the Ground recompensed his Labour with large Increase, not suffering him to want any thing; he had not only Fruit and Grain in abundance, but all sorts of fragrant Flowers besides. There he deplored the Unhappiness of those People that are led to Destruction by the mad Ambition of a tyrannical Prince. There he every day expected that the just Gods, tho' patient for a time, would over-turn the Throne of Adrastus; the more his Prosperity increased, the more irrecoverable he thought his Fall would prove. For Imprudence, when prosperous in its failings, and Power when risen to the last excess of absolute Authority, are the forerunners of the overthrow of Kingdoms, and their Kings. When he heard of the Defeat and Death of Adrastus, he manifested nothing of Joy; either for having fore-seen it, or for being delivered from the Power of this Tyrant; he sighed only for fear of seeing the Daunians in a State of slavery. This is the Man Telemachus proposed for their King. He had for some time known his Courage and Valour. For Telemachus, according to the Advice of Mentor, did not cease to inform himself of all the good and evil Qualities of any Person that was in any considerable Employ, not only among the Confederate Nations, whom he served in this War, but even among his Enemies. His principal care was 〈◊〉 where to discover and examine Men, who had any particular Talon or Virtue.  
The Confederate Princes at first had some reluctancy against placing Polydamas in the Throne. We have had Experience, said they, how formidable a King of the Daunians is to his Neighbours, when he loves War, and knows how to manage it. Polydamas is a great Captain, and may cast us into very great Dangers: But Telemachus replied, 'Tis true, Polydamas understands War, but he loves Peace; and these are the two things that ought to be desired in a Prince. A Man who knows the Miseries, Hazards, and Difficulties of War, is much more capable of avoiding it than another, who has no manner of Experience in these Things. Polydamas has learned to relish the Happiness of a quiet Life. He condemned the Erterprises of Adrastus; he foresaw their fatal Consequences; a weak and ignorant Prince is more to be feared by you, than a Man who is able to understand and determine every thing himself. A weak and ignorant Prince can see nothing but by the Eyes of a passionate Favourite, or a flattering Minister, who is Turbulent and Ambitious; so that a Prince thus blinded, will engage himself in War, when he has no mind to it; and you can never know when you are sure of him, Secause he can never be sure of himself; he'll falsify his Word to you, and soon reduce you to that Extremity, that you'll be under a Necessity, either of ruining him, or of being ruined by him. Is it not more advantageous, safer, and at the same time more just and noble, faithfully to answer the Confidence the Daunians put in you, and to give 'em a King worthy to Command 'em? The whole Assembly was convinced by this Speech; and it was ordered that Polydamas should be proposed to the Daunians, who expected an Answer with impatience. When they heard the name of Polydamas, they answered, We are now well assured that the Confederate Princes will act sincerely, and make an everlasting Peace with us; seeing they are willing to grant a Man so Virtuous, and so capable of Governing us, to be our King. If a lewd, effeminate, and ill instructed Person had been proposed to us, we should have believed an occasion was thereby sought to destroy us, and to corrupt the Form of our Government; we should have secretly laid up in our Breasts a lively Resentment of so severe and fraudulent a Piece of Conduct; but the Choice of Polydamas discovers to us true Candour: The Confederates, without doubt, expected nothing of us, but what is just and noble; seeing they allow us a King, who is incapable of doing any thing against the Liberty and Glory of our Nation. And we in like manner can protest in the Presence of the just Gods, That the Rivers should sooner re-ascend to their Sources, than we will cease to love such beneficial Nations. May our latest Posterity remember the Favour we receive this day of renewing from Generation to Generation, the Peace of the Golden Age, in all the Borders of Hesperia.  
Telemachus, after this, proposed to give Diomedes the Fields of 〈◊〉 to found a Colony there. This new People, says he to 'em, will owe their Settlement to you in a Country which you don't Occupy. Remember that all Men owe one another Love, that the Earth is too large for 'em all; that you must have Neighbours, and 'tis best to have such as are obliged to you for their Establishment. Be moved with the Misfortune of a King, who cannot return into his own Country. Polydamas and he being united together by the Bands of Justice and Virtue, which are the only durable ones, will preserve you in profound Peace, and render you formidable to all the neighbouring Nations, that may think of aggrandizing themselves. You see, O Daunians, that we have given you and your Nation a King capable of advancing its Glory to the Skies: Do you also give a Piece of Ground that is useless to you, seeing we ask it at your hands, to a Prince who is worthy of all kind of Relief.  
The Daunians replied, that they could refuse nothing to Telemachus, since it was he that had procured Polydamas to be their King: And they immediately went to seek for him in his solitary Dwelling, to make him Reign over 'em. Before they went, they gave the fertile Plains of Arpos to Diomedes, for him to found a new Kingdom there. The Allies were extremely pleased with it, because this Colony of Greeks would considerably fortify the Confederate Party, if ever the Daunians should endeavour to renew the Usurpations, of which Adrastus gave 'em so ill an Example.  
Telemachus, with Teass in his Eyes, took his leave of 'em, together with his Company, after he had tenderly embraced the valiant Diomedes, the wise and inconsolable Nestor, and the famous Philoctetes, the worthy Possessor of the Arrows of Hercules. The brave Son of Ulysses, longed with impatience to see Mentor again at Salentum, and to embark with him for Ithaca, where he hoped his Father might by this time be arrived. When he approached Salentum, he was amazed to see the Country round, which he had left almost quite uncultivated and desert, manured like a fine Garden, and filled with industrious Labourers; he knew this must be the work of Mentor. When he entered the City, he observed there were fewer Artificers for Luxury and the Pleasures of Life; and to make a great appearance of Magnificence. Telemachus was choked at this, for he naturally loved all things that carried Pomp and Politeness with them. But his Mind was soon possessed with other Thoughts. He saw at a distance Idomeneus coming toward him with Mentor; this instantly moved his Heart with Joy and Tenderness. And notwithstanding all the Success he had had in the War against Adrastus, he was afraid lest Mentor should not be well pleased with him; and as he advanced, he examined his Eyes to see if he could read nothing in 'em that might occasion him to reproach himself. First, Idomeneus embraced Telemachus as his own Son; after which Telemachus threw himself about Mentor's Neck, and wetted him with his Tears. Says Mentor to him, I am well pleased with you; you have committed great Faults, but they have served to make you know yourself, and to give you a diffidence in your own Performances. Men often derive more Advantage from their Defects than from their great Actions; for these swell the Mind, and inspire it it with a dangerous Presumption, whereas a Man's Faults make him recollect himself, and restore him that Prudence which he had lost in the time of his good Successes. That which remains for you to do, is to Praise the Gods, and not to desire the Praises of Men yourself; you have done great Things, but confess the Truth, 'tis scarce yourself that have done 'em: Did they not enter like something Adventitious that was infused into you? And were you not capable of spoiling all by your too great Temerity and Imprudence? Do you not find that Minerva has, as it were, transformed you into another Man above yourself, to perform by you that which you have done? She has held all your defects in suspense, as Neptune does when he appeases the Tempests and suspends the irritated Waves.  
While Idomeneus was speaking to the 〈◊〉 who were returned from the War, Telemachus listened to the wise Counsels of Mentor. After which he looked on every side with Astonishment, and said, what a Change do I see, the reason of which I cannot comprehend? Is some Calamity befallen Salentum during my absence? Whence is it that that Magnificence that reigned in every part of it at my departure, is not discernible at present? I see here neither Gold nor Silver, nor precious Stones. The Habit of the People is plain; and the Buildings that are Erecting are not so magnificent and full of Ornaments; the Arts languish here, and the City is become a Desert.  
Says Mentor, smiling upon him, Have you observed the Conditions of the Country round about this City? Yes, replied Telemachus, I see Husbandry is in Repute every where, and the Fields are cleared and manured. Which is best, added Mentor, a City Proud and Magnificent, with abundance of Gold and Silver, with the Country round it neglected and barren; or a City mean in its Ornaments and modest in its Manners, with Fields about it cultivated and fruitful? A great City of Artificers employed in soft Arts which corrupt the Manners of Men, by engaging them in a luxurious Course of Life; when 'tis surrounded with a Kingdom that is poor and ill cultivated, is like a Monster whose Head is of an extravagant Size, and whose whole Body is extremely thin and deprived of Nourishment; so that it bears no proportion to that Head. 'Tis the number of People and plenty of Provisions, in which the true Strength and true Riches of a Kingdom consists. Idomeneus has now a People innumerable and indesatigable in Labour, who fill the whole Extent of his Country. His whole Country is as it were but one entire City. Salentum is only the Centre of it; the more the People multiply, the more are the Fruits of Earth multiplied by their Labour; this so sweet and peaceable Multiplication augments his Kingdom more than a Conquest. Only those superfluous Arts are rejected in this City, which divert the Poor from seeking the supply of their real Wants from the Earth; and corrupt the Rich by casting 'em into a state of Pride and Softness. Thus Idomeneus is much more powerful than he was when you so much admired his Magnificence. That dazzling Splendour hid under it a Weakness and Misery, which would soon have overturned his Empire; now he has a greater number of Men, he provides for 'em more easily; these Men who are accustomed to Labour and Toil, and to a generous contempt of Life, by the Love they bear to good Laws, are always ready to Fight to defend those Lands which their own Hands have Cultivated. This State, which you suppose under a declension, will soon become the Wonder of Hesperia. Remember, O Telemachus, that two Things are very pernicious in the Government of Nations, and sacrce ever admit a Remedy. The first is an unjust and too violent Authority in Kings; the other is Luxury, which corrupts the Manners of the People. When Kings accustom themselves to know no other Laws but their own Will, and to put no restraint on their Passions, they may do any Thing; but by this Power of doing any Thing, they weaken the Foundation of their Authority; they have no certain Rule remaining, nor any Maxims of Government. Every one strives to exceed others in flattering them. Thus they lose their People, and have nothing left 'em but Slaves. Who shall tell 'em that bold Truth that may set Bounds to this Torrent? Every thing gives way to it. The wisest Men fly, hide themselves, and sigh in secret. Nothing less than a sudden and violent Revolution can bring back this exorbitant Power into its natural Channel. Nay, oftentimes the Blow that is designed to regulate it, overthrows it Irrecoverably. Nothing so much menaces a fatal Fall as an Authority which is pushed too sar; 'tis like a Bow too much bend, which at last breaks all to pieces, if it be not slackened. But who shall dare to slacken this overstrained Power? Idomeneus loved Justice with all his Heart; yet by this so flattering Authority, he had been overturned from his Throne; and would still have remained under the Power of the same Delusion, had not the Gods sent me here to undecieve him about this blind and extravagant Power, which does not agree with the State of Men. Nay, there were some kinds of Miracles necessary to open his Eyes. The other almost incurable Mischief is Luxury. As, too great an Authority poisons Kings, Luxury poisons a whole Nation. 'Tis commonly said that Luxury serves to Feed the Poor at the charge of the Rich; as if the Poor could not get their Living more profitably in increasing the Fruits of the Earth, without rendering the Rich effeminate, by refining voluptous Arts. Thus a whole Nation accustoms itself to look upon the most superfluous Things as the Necessities of Life; and new Necessities of this king are invented every Day. Men can't tell how to Live without Things that were quite unknown thirty Years ago; This Luxury they call the Bon gout, the perfection of Arts. This Politeness of a Nation, this Vice which draws so many others after it, is commended as a Virtue, and spreads its Contagion down to the very Mob. The nearest Relations of the King are willing to imitate his Magnificence, and the middle sort would fain equal those of great Quality; for who is it that is willing to do himself Justice? The lowest Rank of Men desire to pass for the middle Sort; and every one does more than he is able, some for Ostentation, and to make a show of their Wealth; others from a foolish Shame, and to conceal their Poverty: Even those who are wise enough to condemn so great a Disorder, are not so wise as to dare to begin to stem the Tide, and to give contrary Examples. A whole Nation runs to Ruin, all conditions and ranks of Men are confounded; the passionate Desire of acquiring Riches to support a vain Expense, corrupts the purest Minds; And nothing is sought for but how to become Rich. To obtain this End, Men Borrow, Cheat, and use a Thousand unworthy Artifices: But who shall remedy these Mischiefs? The Relish and Habits of a whole Nation must be changed, new Laws must be given 'em; and who shall attempt this? Unless the King be so much of a Philosopher as to know how, by the pattern of his own Moderation, to cover all such with Shame who love a pompous Expense; and to encourage the Prudent, who are glad to be authorised in an honourable way of Frugality.  
Telemachus hearing this Discourse, was like a Man just waking from a profound Sleep. He conceived the Truth of these Things, and they were deeply impressed on his Heart, by Mentor's Words, as a skilful Statuary cuts whatLiniaments he pleases on a piece of Marble, so that they gave him Affection, Life and Motion. He answered nothing, but revolved in his Mind all that he had been hearing. His Eyes ran over the Things that had been altered in the City; in fine, he said to Mentor, you have made Idomeneus the wisest of all Kings; I now neither know him nor his People. Nay, I confess that what you have done here is infinitely greater than all the Victories we have been Winning. Chance and Strength have a great share in the Successes of War; and these Successes are always Mischievous and Odious. But what I see here is all of it the Work of a celestial Wisdom; all is sweet, all is pure, all is lovely, all discovers an Authority more than Humane. When Men have a Mind to Glory, why do they not seek it, in thus applying their Minds to do Good? How little do they understand what solid Glory means, who hope to acquire it in ravaging the Earth, and pouring out humame Blood? Mentor displayed a sensible Joy in his Face to find Telemachus so happilp undeceived about his Achievements and Victories, at an Age in which it was so natural for him to be intoxicated with the Glory that surrounded him.  
After this Mentor added. 'Tis true, all you see here is good and laudable; but know that 'tis possible to do yet better things than those: Idomeneus governs his Passions, and applies himself to regulate his People, yet he does not fail to commit a great many Faults still, which are the unhappy Consequences of his Ancient Mistakes. When Men have a Mind to forsake an Evil, this Evil seems still to pursue 'em for a long time; Evil Habits, a weak Temper, inveterate Errors, and almost incurable Prejudices still attend 'em. Happy are they who have never thus wandered, they may be able to do good, after a more perfect manner. O Telemachus, the Gods will require more of you than of Idomeneus; because you have been acquainted with the Truth from your Youth, and have never been delivered up to the seductions of too great Prosperity.  
Idomeneus, continued Mentor, is Wise and Sagacious, but he applies himself too much to the Detail, and does not enough meditate on the Body of his Affairs. That Capacity of Governing, which is more than Humane, does not consist in doing all on's self. 'Tis a gross piece of Vanity, to hope by this means to obtain one's end, or to endeavour to persuade the World, one is capable of it. A King ought to Govern in choosing and conducting those who govern under him; he is not to descend into every particular Matter; this is to discharge the Function of those whose business it is to labour under him. He ought only to take of 'em an Account of these things; and to know enough of 'em, to be able to enter into the Account with Judgement. There is a wonderful Art in Governing by choosing, and applying those that are under ones Government, according to their several Talents; by Judging of 'em, Correcting 'em, Moderating 'em, and Inspiring 'em with good Conduct. For a Prince to go about to Examine every thing himself, is to show Distrust, littleness of Mind, and a Jealousy about mean and minute Matters, which consumes that Time and Liberty of Mind which is necessary for great Things. To form great Designs, there is need of a free and sedate Mind; so as to be able to think at one's Ease in an entire disengagement from all Dispatches of perplexing Affairs. A Mind exhausted by the detail of Things, is like the Lees of Wine, which is void both of Strength and Pleasantness. They who govern by the detail, are always determined by the present, without extending their Views to a distant Futurity; they are always taken up with the Affair of the present Day, and that Affair alone possessing them, they are too much impressed by it; for there is no passing a sound Judgement on Things without comparing 'em all together, and placing 'em in a certain Order, that their Connexion and Proportion may be seen. To omit to follow this Rule in Government, is to be like a Musician who should content himself in finding harmonious Sounds, and never give himself the trouble to Unite and Connex 'em together, to compose sweet and ravishing Music. Or like an Architect that thinks his business done, provided he heap great Pillars, and abundance of hewn Stones together, without thinking of the Order and Proportion of the Ornaments of his Building; at a time when a Parlour is to be made, he thinks not of making a suitable Stare-case; when he works on the Body of the Building, he thinks neither of the Court nor the Portal: His Work is nothing but a confused Collection of Magnificent Parts, which are not made one for the other; such a Work as this is so far from doing him Honour, that it will prove a Monument to eternize his Shame; for it shows, That this Workman had not a sufficient Compass of Thought, to conceive at once, the general Design of his whole Work; which is the Character of a unbiased and subaltern Mind. When a Man is Born with a Genius limited to Particulars, he is only proper to execute Affairs under another. Make no doubt of it, O my dear Telemachus, the Government of a Kingdom requires a certain Harmony like that of Music, and Just Proportions, as well as Architecture. If you please, I will again make use of the Comparison of these Arts, and make you understand how mean those Persons are who Govern by the detail. He who in a Consort, sings only some certain Parts, tho' he sings 'em perfectly well, is no more than a Singer; he only who conducts the whole Consort, and at once regulates all the Parts of it, is the Master of Music. In like manner he that Carves Pillars, or raises one side of a Building, is but a Carver or Mason; but he only who contrives this whole Edifice, and has all its proportions in his Head is the Architect; so those who are labouring and making Dispatches, and do the most Business, are such as Govern the least; these are but the subaltern Workmen. The true Genius that conducts a State, is he who while he dies nothing himself, causes every thing to be done; who Thinks, who Designs, who sees what is future, who reflects on what is past, who disposes and proportions Things, who makes early Preparations, who incessantly makes head against, and grapples with the Obstructions which Fortune throws in his Way; as a Swimmer stems a swift Torrnt of Water. Who gives attention Night and Day, that he may leave nothing to the disposal of Chance. Do you think Telemachus, that a great Painter assiduously labours from Mornning to Night, the most speedily to expedite his Work? No, this Slavery and Subjection would extinguish the Flame of his Fancy; he would no longer work from a regular Genius; all must be done with a kind of Irregularity, and by Sallies, according as his Gust conducts him, and his Mind excites him. Do you believe that he spends his Time in pounding of Colours, and preparing of Pencils? No, this is the Business of his Servants, and he reserves to himself the Business of Thought and Contrivance; he ponders on nothing but how to make bold Strokes, that may give Sweetness, a Noble Air, Life, and Passion to his Figures. He has in his Head the Thoughts and Sentiments of those Hero's he is about to represent. He is transported into the Ages wherein they lived, and puts himself into all the Circumstances that have attended 'em. To this kind of Enthusiasm, he must join a sort of Wisdom that must restrain him; that all may be True, Correct, and one thing proportionable to another. Do you think, Telemachus, that less Elevation of Mind, and Effort of Thought is necessary to make a great Prince, than to make a good Painter? Conclude then, that the Business of a King is to think, and to make choice of others to labour.  
Telemachus replied; methinks I comprehend all you have been saying to me; but if Things were thus managed, a King would be often deceived for not entering himself into the particularities of Things. No, 'tis you that are deceived, replied Mentor, That which hinders a Prince from being imposed on, is the General Knowledge of Government. Those that have not Principles to guide 'em in Affairs, and have not a true discerning of the Minds of Men, go always as it were, groping in the Dark; and 'tis owing to Chance, if they are not mistaken. They don't so much as know precisely what it is they are seeking for, norwhich way they ought to steer: They only know how to be diffident; and they sooner distrust those that are so Honest as to contradict 'em, than Deceivers that flatter 'em. On the contrary, they that have Principles of Government, and are well skilled in Men, know what they ought to aim at, and the Means to attain it; they know at least in gross, whether the Persons they make Use of, are proper Instruments for their Designs; and whether they conceive their Intentions so far as to be able to tend to the end they propose. Besides, seeing they do not cast themselves into perplexing Details, they have their Minds more free to discover the Body of the Work at one View, and to observe whether it advances towards its Principal End; and if they make any Mistakes, at least they can scarce ever happen to be essential ones. Again, they are above those little Jealousies, that are Signs of a narrow Spirit, and mean Soul; they very well understand, that there is no avoiding being deceived in great Affairs; because 'tis necessary to employ Men in 'em, who so often prove deceitful. But more may be lost by that Irresolution, into which Diffidence casts a Man, than would be lost by suffering one's self to be in some degree deceived. He is very Happy, who is deceived only in Things of a mean Consideration; great ones will not fail to come to an Issue, not withstanding that. And 'tis this only the Mind of a great Man should be concerned about. He ought severely to repress Deceit, when 'tis discovered; but 'tis necessary to reckon upon meeting with some Deceit, if a Man would not be really deceived.  
In fine, says Mentor to Telemachus, the Gods love you, and prepare you a Reign, which shall abound with Wisdom. All that you see here is not so much done for the Glory of Idomeneus as for your Instruction; all these wise Establishments, that you admire in Salentune, are but the Shadow of what you shall one Day make in Ithaca, if your Virtues answer the height of your Destiny. 'Tis time for us to think of going hence; Idomeneus keeps a Vessel ready for our Return. Thus Mentor, who regulated the Moment's of Telemachus his Life, to raise him to the highest pitch of Glory, stayed him only so long in each Place, as was necessary to Exercise his Virtue, and furnish him with Experience.  
Upon this, Telemachus opened his Heart to his Friend, tho' with some difficulty concerning an Inclination he had, which made him regret Salentum. You will blame me, said he, for too easily giving way to some engaging Impression or other, in the Places through which I pass; but my Heart would make me continual Reproaches, if I should conceal from you that I love Antiope the Daughter of Idomeneus. No, my dear Mentor, 'tis not a blind Passion, like that of which you Cured me in the Island of Calypso; I know very well the depth of the Wound Love made in my Soul, in the company of Eucharis; I cannot yet pronounce her Name, without a sensible trouble; Time and Absence have not been able to efface it from my Heart. This, fatal Experience has taught me to distrust myself. But as for Antiope, what I feel on her Account, has nothing like it; 'tis not a passionate Love; 'tis Judgement, 'tis Esteem, 'tis a Persuasion that I should be Happy in spending my Life with her. If ever the Gods restore my Father to me, and permit me to choose a Wife, Antiope shall be the Person; that in her which moves me, is her Silence, her Modesty; her Reservedness, her Labour in working of Wool, and Embroidery, her Application in the whole Management of her Father's House, since the death of her Mother, her Contempt of vain and gaudy Trim, that Forgetfulness, if not Ignorance of her own Beauty that appears in her. When Idomeneus commands her to lead the Dances of the young Ladies of Crete, at the sound of Flutes, one would take her for a smiling Venus; she is attended with so many Graces. When he carries her a Hunting with him into the Forest, she appears Majestic and Dextrous at drawing the Bow, like Diana in the midst of her Nymphs; only herself does not know it, while all the World admires her. When she enters into the Temples of the Gods, and carries the sacred Offerings on her Head in Baskets, one would think she were the Deity that inhabits those Temples. With what Fear, and with what Devotion have we seen her offer Sacrifices; and avert the Anger of the Gods, when some Fault was to be expiated, or some unhappy Presage prevented? In fine, when one sees her with a Company of her Women, holding a golden Needle in her Hand; one would think Minerva herself were come upon Eaith in a Human form, to inspire Mankind with curious Arts: She excites others to work; she renders tedious Labour pleasant to 'em by the sweetness of her Voice, when she sings all the marvellous Histories of the Gods: She surpasses the most exquisite Painting by the delicacy of her Embroideries. Happy will that Man be whom cheerful Hymen shall unite with her! He'll have nothing to fear, unless it be to lose her, and survive her. My dear Mentor, I here take the Gods to witness, that I am ready to be gone: I shall love Antiope as long as I live, but she shall not retard my return to Ithaca one moment. If another should enjoy her, I should pass the rest of my Days in Sorrow and Bitterness. But in fine, I am resolved to leave her, tho' I know Absence may make me lose her. I am unwilling to declare my Love. either to her, or to her Father; because I think I ought to mention it to none but you, till Ulysses re-ascend his Throne, and give me his Consent. You may know by all this, my dear Mentor, how different this Inclination of mine is from that Passion with which you saw me blinded for Eucharis.  
O Telemachus, replied Mentor, I grant there is a difference. Antiope is mild, sincere and wise; her hands disdain not to labour; she forefees Things at a great distance; she makes Provision for every Thing; she knows how to be silent, and acts regularly without Precipitation; she is continually employed, but never embarassed, because she does every thing to good purpose. The good Order of her Father's House is her Glory, and is a greater Ornament to her than her Beauty itself, tho' the Care and Burden of all lies upon her; so that she reproves, refuses, and spares as she pleases; (things which make almost all other Women hated) she has rendered herself amiable to the whole House; 'tis because they find in her, neither Passion, nor Caprice, nor Levity, nor Humour, as in other Women: She knows how to make herself understood only with a glance of her Eye, and every one is afraid to displease her. The Orders she gives are Expresses, and she commands nothing, but what may be performed; she reproves with kindness, and even encourages to do well in the time of her Reproof. The Heart of her Father rests upon her; as a Traveller upon whose Head the Rays of the Sun have long beaten with violence, takes sweet Repose upon the tender Grass. You are in the right, Telemachus. Antiope is a Treasure worthy to be sought for in the remot'st Countries; her Mind is never decked with vain Ornaments any more than her Body; her Fancy, tho' full of Vivacity, is restrained by her Discretion; she never speaks but when 'tis necessary, and when she opens her Mouth, soft Language, and the Graces, in their native Simplicity, flow from her Lips. When she speaks, every body else is silent; she herself blushes, and could find in her heart to suppress what she was about to say, when she perceives with what Attention she is heard. For our parts, we have scarce heard her speak. You may remember, Telemachus, when her Father one day made her come in, how she appeared with her Eyes toward the Ground, covered with a large Veil; and only spoke to moderate the Anger of Idomeneus, when he was about to inflict a rigorous Punishment on one of his Slaves. At first she took part with him in his Trouble; then she calmed him; at last she made him understand what might be alleged in excuse of the poor Wretch; and without letting the King know he was too much transported with Passion, she inspired him with Sentiments of Justice and Compassion. Thetis when she Caresses old Nereus, does not appease the Floods with more sweetness. Thus Antiope, without assuming any Authority, and without making a show of her Charms, will one day manage the Heart of her Husband; as she now touches her Lyre, when she would draw from it the softest harmonious Sounds. Once again, I tell you, Telemachus, your Love to her is reasonable and just, the Gods design her for you. You love her with a rational Affection; but you must wait till Ulysses grant her to you. I commend you for not having discovered your Sentiments to her; and know that if you had by the by taken occasion to let her know your 〈◊〉 she would have rejected 'em, and ceased to have had a value for you. She will never promise herself to any one, but will leave herself to the Disposal of her Father; she will never be married to any one who does not fear the Gods, and who does not demean himself according to all the strictest Rules of Decency. Have you not observed as well as I, that she glances her Eyes less, and inclines 'em toward the Ground more since our return? She knows all the Successes that has attended you in War; she is not ignorant of your Birth, or of your Adventures, or of all that the Gods have conferred on you; and 'tis this that renders her so modest and reserved. Come, let us go, Telemachus, let us go toward Ithaca; there now remains nothing more for me to do for you, but to bring you to your Father; and to put you into a Condition to obtain a Bride worthy of the Golden Age: If she were a Shepherdess in the cold Algidus, as she is the Daughter of a King of Salentum, you would be a very happy Man in the Enjoyment of her.  
These words inflamed the Heart of Telemachus, with an impatient desire of returning into Ithaca. The Vessel was ready, Mentor had taken care to cause it to be prepared for him presently after his Arrival. But Idomeneus, who could not without a great deal of reluctancy see him prepare for his Voyage, fell into a mortal Sorrow, and a deplorable Melancholy, when he saw these two Guests, who had been so useful to him, about to forsake him. He shut himself up in the most secret Apartments of his House; where he gave vent to his Grief in sighing and pouring out Floods of Tears; he forgot to Eat, and Sleep could no longer charm his piercing Sorrows; he consumed and pined away in this uneasy Condition, like a great Tree, whose Boughs are large and thick, when a Worm begins to gnaw the Stock of it in those fine Channels, which convey the Sap to nourish all the Parts of it: This Tree which the Winds could never unsettle, and which the fruitful Earth was pleased to nourish in her Bosom; which was never wounded by the Country-man's Axe, cannot choose but languish, while the cause of its decay remains undiscovered; 'tis withered and stripped of its Leaves that were its Glory and Ornament; it has nothing now to show but its Trunk covered with a Back full of Chaps and Flaws, together with dry and sapless Branches. Thus was it with Idomeneus in his Sorrow. Telemachus was melted, but durst not speak to him; he feared the day of his Departure; he sought pretexts to retard it, and would have continued for a considerable time in this uncertainty; had not Mentor spoken to him after this manner: I am glad, says he, to see you so much altered; you were naturally rigid and haughty, not suffering yourself to be moved by any thing but your own Interest and Advantage; but you are at length become humane; and the experience of your own Misfortunes makes you begin to Sympathise with others under like Circumstances. Without this Compassion a Man has neither Virtue nor Goodness, nor Capacity to govern Men; but you must not push it too far, so as to fall into a weak sort of Friendship. I would willingly speak to Idomeneus, to engage him to consent to your Departure; and would spare you the trouble of so perplexing a Discourse; but I would not have an unbecoming Shame and Rudeness bear the sway in your Mind; you ought to use yourself to mix Courage and firmness of Mind with a tender and sensible Friendship; you ought to be afraid of afflicting Men without necessity; you should share with 'em in their Troubles when you can't avoid making 'em uneasy; and moderate that Blow the most you can, which 'tis impossible for you entirely to spare. 'Tis to give such an Alleviation to the Grief of Idomoneus, answered Telemachus, that I should choose to have him know the time of our departure from your Mouth, rather than from mine. To which Mentor immediately returned. You are under mistake, my dear Telemachus. You are like the Children of Kings who are tenderly brought up in Purple; they would have every thing done after their own Fashion, and would have Nature entirely yield Obedience to their Humours, and yet have not Courage enough to oppose any one to his Face. ' This not that they care so much for Mankind; nor that they have so much Goodness as to be afraid of afflicting them; but all they do is for their own Conveniency. They are not willing to see sad and discontented Countenances round about 'em: The Troubles and Miseries of Men do not affect them, provided they are not before their Eyes, or sounding in their Ears; for Discourses on such Subjects give 'em Trouble and Uneasiness. To please 'em they must always be told that every thing goes well; and while they are surrounded with Pleasures, they are not willing to see or hear any thing that may interrupt their Mirth: If there be occasion to reprove, or correct any one, to oppose the Pretensions and Passions of a troublesome Man, they will rather give Commission to another to do it, than speak themselves with a sedate steadiness of Mind. On such Occasions they would be ready to suffer the most unjust Favours to be extorted from 'em, and would spoil the most important Affairs, for want of knowing how to determine against the Sentiments of those with whom they have to do every Day. This Weakness which is found in 'em, puts every one upon thinking only how to make an improvement of it. Thy press and importune 'em; they weary 'em out, and succeed in so doing. Again they flatter and extol 'em to the Stars, to insinuate themselves the better; but when they are become their Confidents, and are placed near 'em in Employs of some considerable Authority, they lead 'em a great way, they impose the Yoke on 'em, under which they Groan, and which they would often shake off, but are forced to bear as long as they live. They are so jealous of their Authority, that they can't endure to be thought to be governed by others; but in reality are always under management; and indeed they know not how to be without it. For they are like those feeble Vines, which are not able to support themselves, and therefore always twist themselves about the Trunk of some great Tree. I cannot suffer you, O Telemachus, to fall into this Fault, which renders a Man so weak for Government. You who are so tender as not to dare to speak to Idomeneus, will be no longer touched with his Sorrows, when you are once got out of Salentum. 'Tis not so much his Trouble that softens you, as 'tis his Presence that embarasses you, Go speak to Idomeneus, and learn on this Occasion to be resolved and tender at the same time. Let him know the Trouble you feel in parting from him; but let him know at the same time by the decisive tone of your Voice, the necessity of your departure.  
Telemachus durst neither any longer oppose Mentor, nor go to Idomeneus; he was ashamed of his Fear, and yet had not the Courage to surmount it; he hesitated, made a step or two, and then returned immediately to allege to Mentor some new reason of delay. But Mentor's Look alone deprived him of Speech, and made all his fair Pretences disappear. And is this, says Mentor smiling, the great Conqueror of the Daunians? The Deliverer of the great Hesperia? The Son of the wise Ulysses, who is to be the Oracle of Greece after him? Who knows not how to tell Idomeneus, that he can no longer defer his return into his Country, to see his Father? O ye People of Ithaca, how miserable will you one Day be, if you have a King whose Mind is under the Dominion of an unbecoming Shame; and who will sacrifice his greatest Interests to his Weaknesses in matters of the smallest Consequence! See Telemachus, what a difference there is between Valour in the Field, and Courage in the Court. You have not feared the Arms of Adrastus, and yet you are now afraid of the Sorrows of Idomeneus. This is that which dishonours Princes who have done the greatest Feats; after they have appeared to be Heroes in War, they show themselves the meanest of Men on common Occasions, wherein others support themselves with Vigour. Telemachus convinced of the Truth of these Words, and spurred on with this Reproach, went out hastily, and would no longer give ear to his Affections. But he was scarce come into the Room where Idomeneus was sitting with dejected Eyes, languishing and overwhelmed with Sorrow, but they were both afraid of each other. They durst not look on one another; they understood one another without saying any Thing; and each was afraid that the other would break Silence; both of 'em fell a Weeping, and in fine, Idomeneus pressed with excess of Sorrow, cried out, To what purpose is Virtue sought after if she so ill requites those that Love her? After my Weakness is remonstrated to me, I am forsaken. If it be so, I must e'en fall back into all my Misfortunes: Speak no more to me of Governing well, I am not able to do it. I am weary of Men. Whether will you go Telemachus? Your Father is Dead. You in vain seek after him. Ithaca is become a Prey to your Enemies, they'll destroy you if you return thither; you'll find that one or other of 'em has married your Mother. Continue here, and Reign with me; at least leave Mentor with me; who is my only support. Speak, answer me, do not harden your Heart, have pity on the most miserable Man in the World. What do you say, nothing? Ah! I very well perceive how cruel the Gods are to me; I feel it even more severely than I did in Crete, when I was so unhappy as to pierce my own Son.  
At last Telemachus answered with a disturbed and timorous Voice, I am not my own, the Destinies call me back into my Country. Mentor, who has the Wisdom of the Gods, commands me in their Name to be gone. What would you have me do? Shall I renounce my Father, my Mother, and my Country, which ought to be dearer to me than my Life? Being Born to Royalty, I am not destined to a calm and sedate Life, nor to follow my own Inclinations. Did you not promise me to send me back to Ithaca? Was it not upon this Promise that I fought for you against Adrastus with the Confederates? 'Tis time for me to think of retrieving my domestic Misfortunes. The Gods, who have given me to Mentor, have also given Mentor to the Son of Ulysses, to make him fill up the Decrees of the Fates. Would you have me lose Mentor, after having lost every Thing else? I have now neither Estate, nor Retreat, nor Father, nor Mother, nor Country to receive me. I have only a Wise and Virtuous Man left me, who is the most precious Gift of Jupiter. Judge yourself, if I can renounce such a Treasure; and so abandon myself to my own Conduct. No, I would sooner die. Take away my Life, that does not signify much, but do not take Mentor from me.  
As Telemachus went on to speak, his Voice grew stronger, and his Timorousness vanished. Idomeneus knew not what to answer, and could not tell how to consent to what the Son of Ulysses said. When he could no jonger speak to him, he endeavoured, at least by his Looks and Gestures, to move his Compassion. At the same moment he saw Mentor appear, who very gravely addressed himself to him in these Terms. Do not afflict yourself; we leave you. But Wisdom which presides in the Councils of the Gods, will always continue with you. Only believe that you are very Happy, in that Jupiter has sent us hither to save your Kingdom, and to reduce you from your Mistakes. Philocles, whom we have restored to you, will serve you faithfully; the Fear of the Gods, the Relish of Virtue, the Love of the People, and Compassion for the Miserable, will always Reign in his Heart. Hark to these, and make use of him with Confidence, and without Jealousy: The greatest Service you can desire from him, is to oblige him to tell you your Faults, without any Extenuation. This is that in which the Courage of a good King consists, to seek true friends, who may point out to him his own Defects: Provided you have this kind of Resolution, our Absence cannot hurt you, and you may live happily. But if Jealousy, which insinuates itself like a Serpent, should again find a Way to your Heart, to make you distrust the most disinterested Counsels, you are undone. Don't suffer yourself weakly to sink under Sorrow; but strenuously endeavour to follow the guidance of Virtue. I have told Philocles all that he ought to do for your assistance, and have cautioned him never to abuse your Confidence in him: I can undertake to answer for him. The Gods have given him to you, as they have given me to Telemachus. Every one ought Courageously to follow his Destiny. 'Tis to no purpose to afflict yourself: If ever you have need of my help, after I have restored Telemachus to his Father, and his Country, I will come and see you again; and what can I do that can give me a more sensible Pleasure? I neither seek for Riches, nor Authority upon Earth; all that I aim at is, to assist such as are enquiring after Justice and Virtue: And can I ever forget the Confidence you have put in me, and Friendship you have shown me? At these Words, Idomeneus was quite altered, and found his Mind appeased, and calm like the Sea, when Neptune with his Trident, quells the tumultuous Waves, and scatters the blackest Tempests. There only remained in him a calm and peaceable Sorrow; which was rather a tender sentiment of Regret, than a lively Passion of Grief. Courage, Confidence, Virtue, and the hope of the assistance of the Gods began to revive within him. Well then, said he, my dear Mentor, it seems one may lose every Thing, and yet not be discouraged. At least, remember Idomeneus, when you are arrived at Ithaca, where your Wisdom will Crown you with Prosperity: Forget not that Salentum was your Work, and that you have left an Unfortunate King there, who has no Hope but in you: Farewell, O worthy Son of Ulysses, I'll no longer detain you; I am not willing to resist the Gods, who sent me so great a Treasure. And Farewell Mentor, the wisest and greatest of all Mankind (if indeed a Human Creature is able to do what I have seen in you, and if you are not some Deity under a borrowed Form, to instruct Weak and Ignorant Men) Go, and conduct the Son of Ulysses, who is more happy in having you with him, than in having been the Conqueror of Adrastus: Farewell both of you, I dare speak no more, forgive my Sighs; Farewell, live, and be Happy; there now remains nothing more to me in the World, but the Remembrance that I once possessed you. Oh pleasant Days, too happy Days! Days which I knew not how sufficiently to value; Days that have too swistly glided away. You'll hever more return. My Eyes will never again see what they now behold.  
Mentor supposed this Moment to be expired; he embraced Philocles, who bathed him with his Tears, without being able to Speak. Telemachus went to take Mentor by the Hand, to take him out of the Hand of Idomeneus; but this last pressing towards the Door, placed himself between Mentor and Telemachus. He looked upon 'em, he sighed; he began to speak, but his Words were cut off in the midst, so that he could not finish a Sentence.  
Confused Cries were heard on the Shore, which was covered with Seamen; these fall to handling their Ropes, and spreading their Sales. A favourable Wind begins to present. Telemachus and Mentor take their leave of the King, who accompanies them to the Harbour, keeping his Eyes fixed on 'em; and having weighed Anchor, the Land seems to fly from 'em: The Experienced Pilot perceives, at a distance, the Leucatian Mountains, whose Head hides itself in a Cloud of frozen Rhyme; and the Acroceraunian Hills, which still held up their proud Foreheads to Heaven, tho' they have been so often torn with Thunder.  
During this Voyage, Telemachus said to Mentor; methinks I now conceive the Methods of Government which you have explained to me, at first, they seemed to me like a Dream, but by degrees they unfold themselves in my Mind, and present themselves clearly to me. As all Objects seem clothed with Darkness at the first glimmerings of Aurora, and afterwards seem, as it were to come out of a Chaos, when the Light that increases insensibly, distinguishes them, and restores 'em their natural Colours. I am persuaded that the Essential Point of Government is to discern well the different Inclinations of the Minds of Men; to know how to make a prudent choice, and apply 'em to Business according to their respective Talents; but I want to know how to do this. He that knows this, is able to be well skilled in Men. To this Mentor answered. swered. You must study Men if you would know 'em; you must Converse and treat with 'em. They that govern aught to treat with their Subjects, to make Proof of 'em by small Employments, of which they may make 'em render an Account, to try if they are capable of higher Functions. How, my dear Telemachus, have you learned in Ithaca so much skill in Horses? It was by often seeing 'em, and by oserving both their Faults and good Properties, with Men that were experienced in 'em. Just so you should be so often speaking of the Good and Evil Qualities of Men, with other wise and virtuous Persons, who have long studied their Qualifications. You will insensibly learn how they are made; and what you may expect from 'em. Who is it that taught you how to know Good and Bad Poets? It was frequent reading, and reflection with snch Persons as had a right Relish of Poesy. Who is it that acquired for you that Judgement in Music? It was the same Application of Mind in observing Musicians. How can any one hope to govern Men well, if he does not know 'em? and how can that be, if he never lives with 'em? To see 'em all in public, is not to live with 'em, for on such Occasions, there is scarce any thing said on one side or other, but about indifferent Things, and such as are prepared with Art. The great Business is to Converse with them in private; to draw from the bottom of their Souls all the secret Springs that lie concealed there; to handle 'em on every side, and to sound their Maxims. But to judge well of Men, a Man should begin by knowing what they ought to be. He should know what true and solid Merit is, that he may discern those that have it from such as have it not. He ought to have certain Principles of Justice, Reason, and Virtue, by which to know who are Reasonable and Virtuous; he should know the Maxims of a good and wife Government, that he may know the Men that have these Maxims, and those that wander from 'em through a false Subtlety, In a Word, to take the Dimensions of many Bodies, one ought to have a fixed Measure; and in like manner to judge well, one ought to have certain Principles to which all is reducible. A Man ought to know precisely what is the Design of Humane Life, and what end ought to be proposed in governing Men. This only and essential 〈◊〉 is for a Man never to desire Authority and Grandeur for himself, which only tends to gratify a Tyrannical Pride, but to Sacrifice himself in the Infinite Cares of Government, to render Men Good and Happy. Otherwise he gropes in the Dark, and steps at a venture, through the whole Course of his Life. He goes like a Ship in a high Sea without a Pilot, which can't consult the Stars, and to which all the noighbouring Coasts are unknown, and therefore cannot choose but suffer Shipwreck. Prince's often for want of Knowledge, wherein true Virtue consists, are Ignorant of what they ought to look for in Men. True Virtue has something Rough, Austere, and Independent in it, which frights 'em; and so they turn themselves towards Flattery, and from that time they can find no Sincerity and Virtue; they soon accustom themselves to believe, that there is no such thing in reality upon Earth; for tho' good Men very well know Ill Men, yet these do not know the Good, and can't tell how to believe there are any such to be found. Such Princes can do nothing but distrust every one alike, they conceal themselves, and shut up their Thoughts, and entertain Jealousy on the slightest Occasions; they are afraid of Mankind, they fly the Light; and dare not appear in that posture of Mind that is Natural to 'em. Tho' they desire not to be known, they can't help being discovered; for the malignant Curiosity of their Subjects penetrates and divines every thing: But they know no body; those interested Creatures that are about 'em, are extremely pleased to see 'em Inaccessible to others; and delight to blacken, by infamous Reports, all who are capable of opening their Eyes, and by this means, keep 'em always at a distance from 'em. They spend their Lives in a Savage and Barbarous kind of Grandeur: While they are incessantly afraid of being deceived, they are always most certainly imposed on, and deserve so to be. When one speaks only to a small number of People, one is engaged to receive all their Prejudices and Passions; one is at the mercy of Tale-bearers, a base and malignant Generation of Men, who live upon Venom, and poison the most innocent Things; that magnify small Matters, and invent Evil rather than they will cease to do Mischief; that for their own Interest, play with the diffidence and unworthy Curiosity of a Weak and Jealous Prince. Inform yourself therefore, O my dear Telemachus; inform yourself of Men, Examine them, make them speak of one another; try them gradually; deliver yourself into the Hands of no Man; make improvement of your Experience. When you have been deceived, as sometimes you may happen to be in your Judgement; Learn by that not to Judge too hastily of any one, either in respect of Good or Evil; both are very dangerous: The Evil are too subtle not to surprise the Good by their false Glosses: Thus your past Errors will instruct you with great Advantage. When you have found any considerable Talents, and Virtue in a Man; make Use of him with Confidence. For Men of Honour and Honesty, love to have their Integrity taken notice of; they value Esteem and Confidence above Treasures; but take care you do not spoil 'em, by giving 'em an unlimited Power; many a one might have been Virtuous who is not so, because his Master heaped on him too much Authority and Wealth. He who is so far beloved of the Gods, as to find in a whole Kingdom two or three true Friends, that are Men of solid Wisdom and Goodness, will, by their means, soon find other Persons that resemble 'em to fill up inferior Places. Thus a Prince, by a few good Men whom he can trust, learns that which it was not possible for him to discern himself alone.  
But is it advisable, said Telemachus, to Employ Ill Men, when they have good Parts; as I have so often heard it is? Yes, says Mentor, Necessity often requires that they should be used. In a Nation that is in a Ferment and Disorder; there are often found unjust and politic Men in Authority. They have Employments that can't be easily taken from 'em; they have acquired the Confidence of some powerful Persons, who ought to be carefully managed. These wicked Men themselves must be managed with Caution, because there is reason to fear 'em, since they are capable of putting all Things in confusion. 'Tis proper therefore to employ 'em for a time, but this still with a Design to render 'em useless by degrees; as for real and intimate Confidence, beware of ever placing it in them, for they may abuse it, and hold you fast by the Secrets you have committed to 'em, in spite of all you can do; this is a Chain more hard to be broken than Fetters of Iron. Make use of 'em for trivial Negotiations, treat 'em well, engage 'em by their Passions to be Faithful to you, for you'll never hold 'em any other way: But do not bring 'em into your most secret Deliberations, have some Spring always ready to move 'em at your Pleasure, but never give 'em the Key of your Heart, and the knowledge of your secret Affairs. When a State comes to enjoy Peace, and good Order, and is under the Conduct of wise and good Men that you are sure of; those ill Men that you were constrained to Employ, will gradually become useless; and than you should not cease to treat 'em well; for you never ought to suffer yourself to be ungrateful, even to ill Men. But in treating 'em well you ought to endeavour to make 'em Good; and while you tolerate certain Faults in 'em, which may be connived at in humane Frailty; those Evils nevertheless ought to be checked which they would openly commit, if not restrained. After all, there is an Evil in the very Good that is done by ill Men; and though this Evil often becomes inevitable, 'tis however needful to endeavour to make it cease. A wise Prince, who is pleased with nothing but good Order and Justice, will in time come to be able to lay aside corrupt and fraudulent Men. He'll find good Men enough of a sufficient Capacity to serve him: But 'tis not enough for him to find good Subjects in a Nation; 'tis necessary he should form such himself. This, replied Telemachus, must greatly embarass one. Not at all, replied Mentor. Your Application in seeking for able and virtuous Men to raise 'em, excites and animates such as have Capacity and Courage, so that every one puts himself forward in virtuous Actions. How many Men are there that languish in an obscure and unactive Life, who would become great Men, if they were animated to Business by Emulation, and hope of Success? How many Men are there, who are Tempted, by their Misery and the incapacity they are in, to raise themselves by Virtue, to endeavour to advance themselves by Crimes? If therefore you annex Rewards and Honours to Industry and Virtue, how many good Subjects will conform themselves? But what a number will you form, in making 'em ascend Step by Step, from the lowest to the highest Employments? You'll hereby exercise their Talents, you'll try the extent of their Understandings, and the sincerity of their Virtue. Those that shall be advanced to the highest Places, will be such as have been brought up under your Observation. You will have traced 'em all your time; and will judge of 'em not by their Words, but by the whole Train of their Actions.  
While Mentor was reasoning thus, they spied a Pheacian Vessel, that had put in at a small Island, which was desert and wild, and encompassed with prodigious Rocks. And now the Winds were silent, even the gentle Zephirs seemed to hold their Breath; the whole Sea became smooth like a Looking glass; the flagging Sails could no longer animate the Vessel; the Rowers than were already tired, now Laboured to little Purpose. 'Twas therefore necessary to make Ashore on this Island, which indeed was rather a huge Rock than a habitable Place. In other Wether less Calm, there would be no approaching it without Danger. Those Pheasians who waited for the Wind, appeared no less impatient to continue their Voyage, than the Salentines. Telemachus advances towards 'em upon this craggy Shore. He asks the first he meets with, whether he had not seen Ulysses King of Ithaca in the Palace.  
This Person to whom he accidentally addressed himself, was not a Pheacian, but an unknown Stranger, who had a majestic Air, but sad and dejected; he seem'd to be deeply musing; and scarce heard Telemachus his Question at first; but at length he thus answered. You are not mistaken, Ulysses has been received by the King, as he ought to be in a place where Jupiter is feared, and Hospitality exercised; but he is not here now, and therefore 'tis to no purpose for you to seek him here; he is gone to see Ithaca again, if the appeased Deities will at last suffer him once again to Salute his domestic Gods. This Stranger had scarce pronounced these Words with a melancholy Tone, but he threw himself into a little thick Wood that was on the top of a Rock, from whence he viewed the Sea with a sad Aspect; flying from all the Men he saw, and seeming troubled that he could not get away. Telemachus looked intently on him, and the more he looked, the more he was moved and astonished. This unknown Person, said he to Mentor, has answered me, like one that can't hear a Man speak to him without Pain; and seems full of Grief and Anguish. I bewail the Unfortunate, since I am so myself; and I find my Heart strongly engaged to this Man, tho' I know not why. He has treated me rudely enough, and yet I can't choose but desire he may see the end of his Troubles. Mentor replied smiling, you see what the Miseries of this Life serve for; they render Princes Moderate, and sensible of other Men's Afflictions; when they have never tasted any thing but the sweet Poison of Prosperity, they are ready to believe themselves Gods; they would have the Mountains become Plains to satisfy their Humour; they make no Account of Men; they would even sport with whole Nature; when they hear any one speak of Suffering, they know not what it means; 'tis a mere Dream to 'em; they have never seen the distance between Good and Evil. But Misfortunes alone may give 'em Humanity, and change their Hearts of Flint into Hearts of Flesh; for than they feel they are but Men themselves, and that they ought to treat other Men kindly who are like themselves. If a Stranger moves your pity so much, because you find him wandering on this Shore like yourself; how much more Compassion ought you to have for the People of Ithaca, if ye shall hereafter see 'em suffer? That People whom the Gods will commit to you, as a Flock to a Shepherd, will perhaps become Miserable by your Ambition, or Pride, or Imprudence; for the People seldom suffer but by the Faults of their Kings, whose Duty it is to watch over 'em, to secure 'em from Misery.  
While Mentor was Speaking thus, Telemachus was overwhelmed with Trouble, and at last replied. If all this be true, the Condition of a King is very Miserable. He is a Slave to all those he seems to Command; he is not so much made to Command 'em, as he is made for them; he owes himself entirely to 'em; he is loaded with all their Cares; he is the Man to whom all the People together, and every one in particular, has a Right; he must accommodate himself to their Weaknesses, Correct 'em like a Father, render 'em wise and happy; the Authority he seems to have is not his own; he can do nothing, either for his own Glory, or his own Pleasure, his Authority is that of the Laws, he must obey them to give a good Example to his Subjects: In a Word, he is only the Defender of the Laws, to make them Reign; he must Watch and Labour to maintain 'em. He has the least Liberty and Tranquillity of any Man in his Kingdom. 'Tis very true, replied Mentor, a King is made King only to take care of his People, as a Shepherd does of his Flock, or as a Father does of his Family. But, my dear Telemachus, don't think it hard for him to go through some Trouble to be in a capacity to do good to so many People. He Reforms ill Men by Punishments, encourages good Men by Rewards; he represents the Gods, in thus leading all sorts of Men to Virtue; has he not Glory enough in causing the Laws to be observed? That of setting himself above the Laws, is but a false Glory, that produces nothing but Horror and Contempt. If he be given to Vice, he can't but be miserable; for he can find no Tranquillity in his Thoughts, no real Satisfaction; if he be good, he tastes the most pure and solid of all Pleasures in labouring for Virtue, thereby expecting an eternal Recompense from the Gods.  
Telemachus opposed to these Reasons, Man's Ingratitude. What, said he, to take so much Pains to gain the Love of those Men, who perhaps will never love you, and to show Kindness to such vile Persons as will perhaps turn the Favours you confer on 'em against you, to do you a Mischief? Mentor answered, You must expect to meet with Ingratitude from Men, and yet not cease to do 'em good: You ought to serve 'em not so much for their own sake, as out of love to the Gods who command it: The good you do is never lost; if Men forget it, the Gods remember and reward it: Besides, if the Multitude be ingrateful, there are always some virtuous Men that will be affected with your Virtue; nay, the very Multitude, as changeable as they are, do not fail to do some kind of Justice to Virtue: But would you hinder Men from being ingrateful? Do not endeavour only to make 'em powerful, rich, and formidable by Arms, and happy by Pleasures; this Glory and this Plenty corrupt 'em, they will be but the more wicked, and consequently the more ingrateful; but apply yourself to inform their Manners, and to inspire 'em with Justice, Sincerity, the fear of the Gods, Humanity, Fidelity, Moderation, and Disinteressedness: In making 'em good, you'll hinder 'em from becoming ingrateful: You'll give 'em the true Good, which is Virtue; which if it be solid, will always engage 'em to him who has inspired 'em with it. It is to be wondered at, that Men should be ingrateful to such Princes as never showed 'em the way to any thing but Injustice, Ambition, and Jealousy, Inhumanity, Pride, and Treachery, against their Neighbours? A Prince ought to expect nothing of 'em, but what himself has taught 'em. But if on the contrary he has laboured both by his Example and Authority, to make 'em good, he'll find the Fruit of his Labour in their Virtues, or at least he'll find enough to consolate him in his own, and in the Friendship of the Gods. During this Discourse, Telemachus often turned his Eyes toward the Sea, which began to be agitated; the Winds stirred up the Waves, and beat 'em against the Rocks, which were whitened with their Foam. The Ship Sails were immediately swelled with Wind; a confused Noise of the Seamen was heard on the Shore, occasioned by the warmth and impatience they were in to put to Sea. That unknown Person with whom Telemachus had spoken, had been sometime in the midst of the Island, climbing up to the Tops of the Rocks, and thence viewing all the immense spaces of the Sea, with a profound dejection of Mind: Telemachus had not lost sight of him, but continually observed his Motions. In fine, this Man seeing the Vessel he belonged to ready to sail, descended from those craggy Rocks with as much speed and agility, as Apollo in the Forests of Lycia, when he has tied up his white Locks, traverses the Precipices with his Arrows to pierce the Stags and wild Boars. This unknown Person soon gets aboard the Vessel, which cuts the brackish Waters, and flies from the Land. A secret Impression of Sorrow seizes the Heart of Telemachus; he afflicts himself without knowing for what Reason. The Tears run down from his Eyes, and nothing seems so pleasant to him as Weeping: At the same time he perceives all the Mariners of Salentum lying upon the Grass, and in a sound sleep. They were weary and dispirited; and sweet Sleep had insinuated itself into all their Limbs; the Poppies of the Night were by the Power of Minerva strewed upon 'em in the middle of the Day. Telemachus was amazed to see this universal Drowziness of the Salentines; while the Phoenicians were so diligent to make their advantage of a favourable Wind: But he was yet more engaged in viewing the Phenician Ship, ready to disappear in the midst of the Waves, than in going towards the Salentines to waken 'em. Something or other there was that held his Eyes fixed on the Vessel that was already parted, of which he could now see nothing but the Sails, whose Whiteness he could just distinguish from the azure Sky. He is so intent, that he does not so much as hear Mentor speak to him. He is transported beyond himself, in an Ecstasy like that of the Maenads, at the Feast of Bacchus, when they hold the Thyrsus in their hands, and make their frantic Cries echo on the Banks of the Hebre, and on Mount Rhodopus and Ismarus.  
At last he recovered himself a little from this sort of Enchantment, and the Tears again began to flow from his Eyes. Upon this, says Mentor to him; I don't wonder, my dear Telemachus, to see you Weep; the cause of your Sorrow, tho' unknown to yourself, is not unknown to Mentor. 'Tis Nature that speaks, and makes herself felt; 'tis she that melts your Heart. The Stranger who gave you such a lively Emotion, is no other than the great Ulysses; he is going to Ithaca, and is already very near the Harbour, and at last sees again that so long desired Place. Your Eyes have seen him, as it was formerly predicted to you, but without knowing who he was. You shall soon see him and know him, and he shall know you; but now the Gods did not think fit to permit you to know one another out of Ithaca. His Heart was moved no less than yours; but he is too Wise to discover himself to any Mortal, in a Place where he might be exposed to Treachery, and to the Pursuits of Penelope's Lovers. Ulysses, of all Men, his Heart is like a deep Well, there is no drawing any of his Secrets out of it. He loves Truth, and never speaks any thing that stifles it; but he does not speak it but on those occasions, when Conveniency and Wisdom require it. He keeps his Lips always closed up as it were with a Seal, from uttering any useless Word. How often was he moved in speaking to you? How often did he put a restraint on himself, that he might not discover himself to you? And what has he not suffered in seeing you? It was this that rendered him so sad and dejected.  
During this Discourse, Telemachus was so melted and troubled, that he could not hinder a Torrent of Tears from gushing out; his Sighs prevented him for a time from returning an Answer, At last he cried out, Alas! my dear Mentor, I found something powerful (which I can't tell how to utter) in that Stranger which attracted me to him, and made an Emotion in all my Bowels: Why did you not tell me before he went away, that it was Ulysses, seeing you knew him? Why did you let him go without speaking to him, and without signifying that you knew him? What is the Mystery of this? Shall I always be Unhappy? Will the provoked Gods hold me still in suspense like thirsty Tantalus, who is amused and flattered by the deceitful Water, which still glides away from his Lips? O Ulysses, Ulysses! have you escaped me for ever? Perhaps I shall never see you more: Perhaps Penelope's Lovers will take him by the Ambushes they prepared for me. If I had followed him, I had at least died with him. O Ulysses! O Ulysses! if no Storm dashes you again against some Rock, (for I have every thing to fear from adverse Fortune) I tremble lest when you arrive at Ithaca, your Lot should be as fatal as that of Agamemnon at Mycenae. But why, dear Mentor, did you envy my Happiness? I should now have been embracing him, I should have been already with him in the Port of Ithaca; and we should have fought together to conquer all our Enemies.  
Says Mentor, smiling; 'Tis to exercise your Patience that the Gods hold you thus in suspense: You look upon this time as lost; but know that 'tis the most useful part of your whole Life; for it exercises you in that Virtue, which of all others is the most necessary for such as are to Govern. You must be Patient, if you would become Master of yourself, and of others. Impatience, which seems to be the force and vigour of the Soul, is but a Weakness: He that knows not how to wait and suffer, is like him that knows not how to keep a Secret in his Breast; both of 'em want strength and firmness of Mind to restrain themselves; as a Man who runs along in a Chariot, and has not a hand strong enough to stop his fiery Coursers when he should; so that they no longer obey the Bridle, but run down a Precipice, and the weak Man that cannot check 'em is dashed in pieces by the Fall. Thus an impatient Man is hurried along, by his wild and furious Desires into an Abyss of Miseries; the greater his Power is, the more fatal is his Impatience to him; he'll wait for nothing, he will not give himself Time to take any Measures; he forces all Things, to satisfy his Wishes: He breaks the Boughs to gather the Fruit before 'tis Ripe: He breaks down the Gates rather than to wait till they are opened; he will needs Reap, when the wise Husbandman is Sowing. All he does in haste is ill done; and can have no longer duration than his volatile Desires. Such as these, such as these are the senseless Projects of that Man who thinks he is able to do every Thing; and who gives himself up to his Desires to abuse his Power. 'Tis to teach you to be Patient, my dear Telemachus, that the Gods exercise your Patience so much. The Good you hope for shows itself to you, and flies from you like a fleeting Dream which vanishes as soon as a Man awakes; to show you that the very Things you think you possess in your Hands, may escape you in an Instant. The wisest Lessons you can have from the Mouth of Ulysses, will not be so useful to you as his long absence, and the Troubles you undergo in seeking him.  
Telemachus heard all this with a Mind full of Anguish; he looked upon the Sea, but could no longer see the 〈◊〉 Ship: Then he turned his Eyes, flowing with Tears, toward Mentor who was speaking to him; when all on a sudden he percieved Mentor take a new Form. The Wrinkles of his Forehead vanished, as the Shades of Night disappear when Aurora with her rosy Fringes opens the Gates of the East, and inflames the whole Horizon: His hollow and austere Eyes became Blue and full of heavenly Sweetness, and shined with a divine Flame; his grey and neglected Beard disappeared; and noble and majestic Lineaments mixed with Sweetness and Grace presented themselves to Telemachus his wondering Eyes. He saw a Woman's Countenance with a Complexion finer than that of a tender Flower when newly Blown before the Sun. He saw the white of Lilies mixed with the red of blooming Roses, and an eternal Youth with a simple and unaffected Majesty flourishing on this heavenly Countenance. The sweet Scent of Ambrosia spread itself from the flowing Hairs of this glorious Person, whose Garments shined like those lively Colours with which the rising Sun paints the gloomy Arches of Heaven, and the Clouds when he has been gilding them. This Deity did not set a Foot upon the Ground, but lightly glided along through the Air, as a Bird cleaves it with its Wings. In her Hand she held a glittering Spear, capable of making the most warlike Cities and Nations tremble. Mars himself would have been Terrified at it; her Voice was sweet and moderate, but strong and insinuating; all her Words were so many Darts of Fire, that pierced the Heart of Telemachus, and made him feel a strange kind of delicious Sorrow. Upon her Helmet appeared the mournful Bird of Athens; and on her Breast there shined a formidable Breastplate. By these Marks Telemachus knew it was Minerva.  
O Goddess, says he, 'tis you than yourself who have deigned to conduct the Son of Ulysses for his Father's sake. He would have added more, but his Voice failed him; his Lips in vain endeavoured to express those Thoughts, that came with Impetuosity from his Mouth, and from the very bottom of his Heart. The Presence of a Deity overwhelmed him; so that he was like a Man in a Dream, oppressed to that degree, that he loses Respiration, and cannot form a Voice by all the troublesome Agitation of his Lips.  
In fine, Minerva pronounced these Words; O Son of Ulysses, harken to me this last time! I never instructed any Mortal with so much Wisdom as I have done you: I have led you by the Hand through Shipwrecks, unknown Countries, Bloody Wars, and all the hard Adventures that can terrify the Heart of Man; I have by sensible Experiences, shown you the true and false Maxims by which you may Reign. Your Faults have been no less useful to you than your Misfortunes; for where is the Man who can govern wisely, if he has never suffered any Hardship, or has never gained any thing by his Sufferings, into which his Faults have precipitated him? You, as well as your Father have filled Sea and Land with your terrible Adventures. Go, you are now worthy to follow his Steps; there remains nothing more but an Easy passage for you into Ithaca, where your Father is this very moment arriving: Go, fight under him with as much Obedience as the meanest of his Subjects; and thereby give others a good Example. He'll procure Antiope for your Bride, and you shall be happy with her, for having sought her for her Wisdom and Virtue more than for her Beauty. When you come to Reign, make it all your Glory to renew the Golden Age: Hear every body, believe very few, have a care of believing yourself too much; be afraid of imposing on yourself; but never fear to let others see you have been mistaken. Love your People, forget nothing that may engage 'em to love you. Fear is necessary when Love is wanting, but it always should be made use of with regret, as violent and dangerous Remedies are; always consider at a distance, all the Consequences of what you are about to undertake. Endeavour to foresee all, the most terrible Incoveniencies; and know, that true Courage consists in discovering all Dangers, and in despising them, when they become unavoidable. He that is not willing to see them, has not Courage enough calmly to forbear the sight of 'em. He that takes a view of them, and avoids all that can be avoided; and breaks through all the rest without a troublesome Emotion of Mind, is the only Wise and Magnanimous Man. Avoid Luxury, Pride, and Profusion; let your Glory consist in sincerity; let your Virtues, and good Works, be the Ornament of the Person, and of the Palace; let 'em be the Guard to surround you; and let all the World learn from you, wherein true Happiness consists. Never forget that Kings do not Reign for their own own Glory, but for the Good of the People: The Good they do, reaches even to the remotest Ages, and the Evil they do, multiplies from Generation to Generation, even to the latest Posterity. Fear the Gods, Telemachus, this Fear is the greatest. Treasure of the Heart of Man; it will be attended with Wisdom, Justice, Peace, Joy, refined Pleasures, true Liberty, sweet Plenty, and spotless Glory.  
I now leave you, O Son of Ulysses; but my Wisdom shall never leave you, provided you always remain sensible, that you can do nothing without it; 'tis time for you now to go alone. I parted from you in Phoenicia, and at Salentum, only to use you to be without the Pleasure of my Company; as they wean Children, when 'tis time to deprive 'em of Milk, to feed 'em with solid Aliment. No sooner had the Goddess finished this Discourse, but she mounted into the Air, and wrapped herself in a Cloud of Gold and Azure, in which she disappeared. Telemachus sighed, was struck with Wonder, and in an Ecstasy, prostrated himself on the Ground; he lifted up his Hands to Heaven, and recovering himself, went to his Company and awakened them, hastened away, and arrived at Ithaca, where he found his Father with the Faithful Eumenia.  
FINIS.