kings aloft
Menelaus—man of love or vengeance,
or both, I may not know—made his recompense,
his soothful slaughter, with my blood and brother.
The red haired king never did see that all in attendance
was made the cuckold, fool fighting in allegiance
under our Argive colors or that of the other.
You see. now you understand why after Ilium I took
fair Odysseus’ fleet for that of my own, shook
my home and made way for inimitable Ithaca, for
life anew: for to fair a better fortune. Oh woe, I mistook
the king as different. After years and a longer look,
Odysseus does match Menelaus in likeness of a boar
Oh Homer! I simply wanted to arrest my folly
but now I sit in Circe’s sty, awaiting my moly