Thomas Henry Kendall,
The Voyage of Telegonus
(1866)
“ Had laid itself on Circe's brass-clad son, He pricked the hunter with a lust that turned All thoughts to travel and the seas remote; But chiefly now he stirred Telegonus To longings for his father's exiled face, And dreams of rest and honey-hearted love And quiet death with much of funeral flame Far in the mountains of a favoured land Beyond the wars and wailings of the waves. ”
