The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Odyssey of Homer, by Homer

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Title: The Odyssey of Homer

Author: Homer

Release Date: January 13, 2008 [EBook #24269]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ***

Transcriber's note

The spelling and hyphenation in the original are inconsistent, and have not been changed. A few obvious typographical errors have been corrected. They are marked with mouse-hover popups like this and are listed at the end of the etext. This e-text includes a number of phrases and passages in Greek. Transliterations are available through mouse-hover popups.

Contents

BOOK I • BOOK II • BOOK III • BOOK IV • BOOK V • BOOK VI • BOOK VII • BOOK VIII • BOOK IX • BOOK X • BOOK XI • BOOK XII • BOOK XIII • BOOK XIV • BOOK XV • BOOK XVI • BOOK XVII • BOOK XVIII • BOOK XIX • BOOK XX • BOOK XXI • BOOK XXII • BOOK XXIII • BOOK XXIV • NOTES • EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY

THE ODYSSEY

OF HOMER

Translated by

WILLIAM

COWPER

LONDON: PUBLISHED

by J·M·DENT·&·SONS·LTD

AND IN NEW YORK

BY E·P·DUTTON & CO

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

COUNTESS DOWAGER SPENCER

THE FOLLOWING TRANSLATION OF THE ODYSSEY, A POEM

THAT EXHIBITS IN THE CHARACTER OF ITS HEROINE

AN EXAMPLE OF ALL DOMESTIC VIRTUE, IS WITH

EQUAL PROPRIETY AND RESPECT INSCRIBED

BY HER LADYSHIP’S MOST DEVOTED

SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.

end chapter

THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER

TRANSLATED INTO

ENGLISH BLANK VERSE

end chapter

BOOK I

ARGUMENT

In a council of the Gods, Minerva calls their attention to Ulysses, still a wanderer. They resolve to grant him a safe return to Ithaca. Minerva descends to encourage Telemachus, and in the form of Mentes directs him in what manner to proceed. Throughout this book the extravagance and profligacy of the suitors are occasionally suggested.

Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed

And genius versatile, who far and wide

A Wand’rer, after Ilium overthrown,

Discover’d various cities, and the mind

And manners learn’d of men, in lands remote.

He num’rous woes on Ocean toss’d, endured,

Anxious to save himself, and to conduct

His followers to their home; yet all his care

Preserved them not; they perish’d self-destroy’d

By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured          10

The oxen of the all-o’erseeing Sun,

And, punish’d for that crime, return’d no more.

Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,

As it may please thee, even in our ears.

The rest, all those who had perdition ’scaped

By war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;

Him only, of his country and his wife

Alike desirous, in her hollow grots

Calypso, Goddess beautiful, detained

Wooing him to her arms. But when, at length,          20

(Many a long year elapsed) the year arrived

Of his return (by the decree of heav’n)

To Ithaca, not even then had he,

Although surrounded by his people, reach’d

The period of his suff’rings and his toils.

Yet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld

His woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath

Unceasing and implacable pursued

Godlike Ulysses to his native shores.

But Neptune, now, the Æthiopians fought,          30

(The Æthiopians, utmost of mankind,

These Eastward situate, those toward the West)

Call’d to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.

There sitting, pleas’d he banqueted; the Gods

In Jove’s abode, meantime, assembled all,

’Midst whom the Sire of heav’n and earth began.

For he recall’d to mind Ægisthus slain

By Agamemnon’s celebrated son

Orestes, and retracing in his thought

That dread event, the Immortals thus address’d.          40

Alas! how prone are human-kind to blame

The Pow’rs of Heav’n! From us, they say, proceed

The ills which they endure, yet more than Fate

Herself inflicts, by their own crimes incur.

So now Ægisthus, by no force constrained

Of Destiny, Atrides’ wedded wife

Took to himself, and him at his return

Slew, not unwarn’d of his own dreadful end

By us: for we commanded Hermes down

The watchful Argicide, who bade him fear          50

Alike, to slay the King, or woo the Queen.

For that Atrides’ son Orestes, soon

As grown mature, and eager to assume

His sway imperial, should avenge the deed.

So Hermes spake, but his advice moved not

Ægisthus, on whose head the whole arrear

Of vengeance heap’d, at last, hath therefore fall’n.

Whom answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

Oh Jove, Saturnian Sire, o’er all supreme!

And well he merited the death he found;          60

So perish all, who shall, like him, offend.

But with a bosom anguish-rent I view

Ulysses, hapless Chief! who from his friends

Remote, affliction hath long time endured

In yonder wood-land isle, the central boss

Of Ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds,

Daughter of sapient Atlas, who the abyss

Knows to its bottom, and the pillars high

Himself upbears which sep’rate earth from heav’n.

His daughter, there, the sorrowing Chief detains,          70

And ever with smooth speech insidious seeks

To wean his heart from Ithaca; meantime

Ulysses, happy might he but behold

The smoke ascending from his native land,

Death covets. Canst thou not, Olympian Jove!

At last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft

With victims slain amid Achaia’s fleet

Thee gratified, while yet at Troy he fought?

How hath he then so deep incensed thee, Jove?

To whom, the cloud-assembler God replied.          80

What word hath pass’d thy lips, Daughter belov’d?

Can I forget Ulysses? Him forget

So noble, who in wisdom all mankind

Excels, and who hath sacrific’d so oft

To us whose dwelling is the boundless heav’n?

Earth-circling Neptune—He it is whose wrath

Pursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops’ sake

Polypheme, strongest of the giant race,

Whom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.

For Him, Thoösa bore, Nymph of the sea          90

From Phorcys sprung, by Ocean’s mighty pow’r

Impregnated in caverns of the Deep.

E’er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,

Although he slay him not, yet devious drives

Ulysses from his native isle afar.

Yet come—in full assembly his return

Contrive we now, both means and prosp’rous end;

So Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow’r

In contest with the force of all the Gods

Exerted single, can but strive in vain.          100

To whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.

Oh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!

If the Immortals ever-blest ordain

That wise Ulysses to his home return,

Dispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,

Our messenger, hence to Ogygia’s isle,

Who shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,

Of this our fixt resolve, that to his home

Ulysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.

Myself will hence to Ithaca, meantime,          110

His son to animate, and with new force

Inspire, that (the Achaians all convened

In council,) he may, instant, bid depart

The suitors from his home, who, day by day,

His num’rous flocks and fatted herds consume.

And I will send him thence to Sparta forth,

And into sandy Pylus, there to hear

(If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,

And to procure himself a glorious name.

This said, her golden sandals to her feet          120

She bound, ambrosial, which o’er all the earth

And o’er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,

Then, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,

In length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,

With which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks

Of Heroes, against whom her anger burns,

From the Olympian summit down she flew,

And on the threshold of Ulysses’ hall

In Ithaca, and within his vestibule

Apparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear,          130

Mentes[1] she seem’d, the hospitable Chief

Of Taphos’ isle—she found the haughty throng

The suitors; they before the palace gate

With iv’ry cubes sported, on num’rous hides

Reclined of oxen which themselves had slain.

The heralds and the busy menials there

Minister’d to them; these their mantling cups

With water slaked; with bibulous sponges those

Made clean the tables, set the banquet on,

And portioned out to each his plenteous share.          140

Long ere the rest Telemachus himself

Mark’d her, for sad amid them all he sat,

Pourtraying in deep thought contemplative

His noble Sire, and questioning if yet

Perchance the Hero might return to chase

From all his palace that imperious herd,

To his own honour lord of his own home.

Amid them musing thus, sudden he saw

The Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr’d

To see a guest’s admittance long delay’d;          150

Approaching eager, her right hand he seized,

The brazen spear took from her, and in words

With welcome wing’d Minerva thus address’d.

Stranger, all hail! to share our cordial love

Thou com’st; the banquet finish’d, thou shalt next

Inform me wherefore thou hast here arrived.

So saying, toward the spacious hall he moved,

Follow’d by Pallas, and, arriving soon

Beneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear

Within a pillar’s cavity, long time          160

The armoury where many a spear had stood,

Bright weapons of his own illustrious Sire.

Then, leading her toward a footstool’d throne

Magnificent, which first he overspread

With linen, there he seated her, apart

From that rude throng, and for himself disposed

A throne of various colours at her side,

Lest, stunn’d with clamour of the lawless band,

The new-arrived should loth perchance to eat,

And that more free he might the stranger’s ear          170

With questions of his absent Sire address,

And now a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r,

And with an argent laver, pouring first

Pure water on their hands, supplied them, next,

With a resplendent table, which the chaste

Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread

And dainties, remnants of the last regale.

Then, in his turn, the sewer[2] with sav’ry meats,

Dish after dish, served them, of various kinds,

And golden cups beside the chargers placed,          180

Which the attendant herald fill’d with wine.

Ere long, in rush’d the suitors, and the thrones

And couches occupied, on all whose hands

The heralds pour’d pure water; then the maids

Attended them with bread in baskets heap’d,

And eager they assail’d the ready feast.

At length, when neither thirst nor hunger more

They felt unsatisfied, to new delights

Their thoughts they turn’d, to song and sprightly dance,

Enlivening sequel of the banquet’s joys.          190

An herald, then, to Phemius’ hand consign’d

His beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled

The suitors with his song, and while the chords

He struck in prelude to his pleasant strains,

Telemachus his head inclining nigh

To Pallas’ ear, lest others should his words

Witness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake.

My inmate and my friend! far from my lips

Be ev’ry word that might displease thine ear!

The song—the harp,—what can they less than charm          200

These wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat

Of one whose bones on yonder continent

Lie mould’ring, drench’d by all the show’rs of heaven,

Or roll at random in the billowy deep.

Ah! could they see him once to his own isle

Restored, both gold and raiment they would wish

Far less, and nimbleness of foot instead.

But He, alas! hath by a wretched fate,

Past question perish’d, and what news soe’er

We hear of his return, kindles no hope          210

In us, convinced that he returns no more.

But answer undissembling; tell me true;

Who art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where

Thy father’s mansion? In what kind of ship

Cam’st thou? Why steer’d the mariners their course

To Ithaca, and of what land are they?

For that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure.

This also tell me, hast thou now arrived

New to our isle, or wast thou heretofore

My father’s guest? Since many to our house          220

Resorted in those happier days, for he

Drew pow’rful to himself the hearts of all.

Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

I will with all simplicity of truth

Thy questions satisfy. Behold in me

Mentes, the offspring of a Chief renown’d

In war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,

An island race, the Taphians oar-expert.

With ship and mariners I now arrive,

Seeking a people of another tongue          230

Athwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass

For which I barter steel, ploughing the waves

To Temesa. My ship beneath the woods

Of Neïus, at yonder field that skirts

Your city, in the haven Rhethrus rides.

We are hereditary guests; our Sires

Were friends long since; as, when thou seest him next,

The Hero old Laertes will avouch,

Of whom, I learn, that he frequents no more

The city now, but in sequester’d scenes          240

Dwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame

With food and drink supplied oft as he feels

Refreshment needful to him, while he creeps

Between the rows of his luxuriant vines.

But I have come drawn hither by report,

Which spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems

The adverse Gods his homeward course retard.

For not yet breathless lies the noble Chief,

But in some island of the boundless flood

Resides a prisoner, by barbarous force          250

Of some rude race detained reluctant there.

And I will now foreshow thee what the Gods

Teach me, and what, though neither augur skill’d

Nor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass.

He shall not, henceforth, live an exile long

From his own shores, no, not although in bands

Of iron held, but will ere long contrive

His own return; for in expedients, framed

With wond’rous ingenuity, he abounds.

But tell me true; art thou, in stature such,          260

Son of himself Ulysses? for thy face

And eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate

Ulysses in thee. Frequent have we both

Conversed together thus, thy Sire and I,

Ere yet he went to Troy, the mark to which

So many Princes of Achaia steer’d.

Him since I saw not, nor Ulysses me.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Stranger! I tell thee true; my mother’s voice

Affirms me his, but since no mortal knows          270

His derivation, I affirm it not.

Would I had been son of some happier Sire,

Ordain’d in calm possession of his own

To reach the verge of life. But now, report

Proclaims me his, whom I of all mankind

Unhappiest deem.—Thy question is resolved.

Then answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return’d.

From no ignoble race, in future days,

The Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow’d

With ev’ry grace Penelope hath borne.          280

But tell me true. What festival is this?

This throng—whence are they? wherefore hast thou need

Of such a multitude? Behold I here

A banquet, or a nuptial? for these

Meet not by contribution[3] to regale,

With such brutality and din they hold

Their riotous banquet! a wise man and good

Arriving, now, among them, at the sight

Of such enormities would much be wroth.

To whom replied Telemachus discrete.          290

Since, stranger! thou hast ask’d, learn also this.

While yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt,

His presence warranted the hope that here

Virtue should dwell and opulence; but heav’n

Hath cast for us, at length, a diff’rent lot,

And he is lost, as never man before.

For I should less lament even his death,

Had he among his friends at Ilium fall’n,

Or in the arms of his companions died,

Troy’s siege accomplish’d. Then his tomb the Greeks          300

Of ev’ry tribe had built, and for his son,

He had immortal glory atchieved; but now,

By harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach

Of eye or ear he lies; and hath to me

Grief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath’d.

Nor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods

Have plann’d for me still many a woe beside;

For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,

Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d

Zacynthus, others also, rulers here          310

In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek

In marriage, and my household stores consume.

But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d,

Refuses absolute, nor yet consents

To end them; they my patrimony waste

Meantime, and will not long spare even me.

To whom, with deep commiseration pang’d,

Pallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou

Of thy long absent father to avenge

These num’rous wrongs; for could he now appear          320

There, at yon portal, arm’d with helmet, shield,

And grasping his two spears, such as when first

I saw him drinking joyous at our board,

From Ilus son of Mermeris, who dwelt

In distant Ephyre, just then return’d,

(For thither also had Ulysses gone

In his swift bark, seeking some pois’nous drug

Wherewith to taint his brazen arrows keen,

Which drug through fear of the eternal Gods

Ilus refused him, and my father free          330

Gave to him, for he loved him past belief)

Could now, Ulysses, clad in arms as then,

Mix with these suitors, short his date of life

To each, and bitter should his nuptials prove.

But these events, whether he shall return

To take just vengeance under his own roof,

Or whether not, lie all in the Gods lap.

Meantime I counsel thee, thyself to think

By what means likeliest thou shalt expel

These from thy doors. Now mark me: close attend.          340

To-morrow, summoning the Grecian Chiefs

To council, speak to them, and call the Gods

To witness that solemnity. Bid go

The suitors hence, each to his own abode.

Thy mother—if her purpose be resolved

On marriage, let her to the house return

Of her own potent father, who, himself,

Shall furnish forth her matrimonial rites,

And ample dow’r, such as it well becomes

A darling daughter to receive, bestow.          350

But hear me now; thyself I thus advise.

The prime of all thy ships preparing, mann’d

With twenty rowers, voyage hence to seek

Intelligence of thy long-absent Sire.

Some mortal may inform thee, or a word,[4]

Perchance, by Jove directed (safest source

Of notice to mankind) may reach thine ear.

First voyaging to Pylus, there enquire

Of noble Nestor; thence to Sparta tend,

To question Menelaus amber-hair’d,          360

Latest arrived of all the host of Greece.

There should’st thou learn that still thy father lives,

And hope of his return, although

Distress’d, thou wilt be patient yet a year.

But should’st thou there hear tidings that he breathes

No longer, to thy native isle return’d,

First heap his tomb; then with such pomp perform

His funeral rites as his great name demands,

And make thy mother’s spousals, next, thy care.

These duties satisfied, delib’rate last          370

Whether thou shalt these troublers of thy house

By stratagem, or by assault, destroy.

For thou art now no child, nor longer may’st

Sport like one. Hast thou not the proud report

Heard, how Orestes hath renown acquired

With all mankind, his father’s murtherer

Ægisthus slaying, the deceiver base

Who slaughter’d Agamemnon? Oh my friend!

(For with delight thy vig’rous growth I view,

And just proportion) be thou also bold,          380

And merit praise from ages yet to come.

But I will to my vessel now repair,

And to my mariners, whom, absent long,

I may perchance have troubled. Weigh thou well

My counsel; let not my advice be lost.

To whom Telemachus discrete replied.

Stranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend,

Who, as a father teaches his own son,

Hast taught me, and I never will forget.

But, though in haste thy voyage to pursue,          390

Yet stay, that in the bath refreshing first

Thy limbs now weary, thou may’st sprightlier seek

Thy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift

Of finish’d workmanship, which thou shalt keep

As my memorial ever; such a boon

As men confer on guests whom much they love.

Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

Retard me not, for go I must; the gift

Which liberal thou desirest to bestow,

Give me at my return, that I may bear          400

The treasure home; and, in exchange, thyself

Expect some gift equivalent from me.

She spake, and as with eagle-wings upborne,

Vanish’d incontinent, but him inspired

With daring fortitude, and on his heart

Dearer remembrance of his Sire impress’d

Than ever. Conscious of the wond’rous change,

Amazed he stood, and, in his secret thought

Revolving all, believed his guest a God.

The youthful Hero to the suitors then          410

Repair’d; they silent, listen’d to the song

Of the illustrious Bard: he the return

Deplorable of the Achaian host

From Ilium by command of Pallas, sang.

Penelope, Icarius’ daughter, mark’d

Meantime the song celestial, where she sat

In the superior palace; down she came,

By all the num’rous steps of her abode;

Not sole, for two fair handmaids follow’d her.

She then, divinest of her sex, arrived          420

In presence of that lawless throng, beneath

The portal of her stately mansion stood,

Between her maidens, with her lucid veil

Her lovely features mantling. There, profuse

She wept, and thus the sacred bard bespake.

Phemius! for many a sorrow-soothing strain

Thou know’st beside, such as exploits record

Of Gods and men, the poet’s frequent theme;

Give them of those a song, and let themselves

Their wine drink noiseless; but this mournful strain          430

Break off, unfriendly to my bosom’s peace,

And which of all hearts nearest touches mine,

With such regret my dearest Lord I mourn,

Rememb’ring still an husband praised from side

To side, and in the very heart of Greece.

Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.

My mother! wherefore should it give thee pain

If the delightful bard that theme pursue

To which he feels his mind impell’d? the bard

Blame not, but rather Jove, who, as he wills,          440

Materials for poetic art supplies.

No fault is his, if the disastrous fate

He sing of the Achaians, for the song

Wins ever from the hearers most applause

That has been least in use. Of all who fought

At Troy, Ulysses hath not lost, alone,

His day of glad return; but many a Chief

Hath perish’d also. Seek thou then again

Thy own apartment, spindle ply and loom,

And task thy maidens; management belongs          450

To men of joys convivial, and of men

Especially to me, chief ruler here.

She heard astonish’d; and the prudent speech

Reposing of her son deep in her heart,

Again with her attendant maidens sought

Her upper chamber. There arrived, she wept

Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed

Her weary lids in dewy sleep profound.

Then echoed through the palace dark-bedimm’d

With evening shades the suitors boist’rous roar,          460

For each the royal bed burn’d to partake,

Whom thus Telemachus discrete address’d.

All ye my mother’s suitors, though addict

To contumacious wrangling fierce, suspend

Your clamour, for a course to me it seems

More decent far, when such a bard as this,

Godlike, for sweetness, sings, to hear his song.

To-morrow meet we in full council all,

That I may plainly warn you to depart

From this our mansion. Seek ye where ye may          470

Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed

Each at the other’s cost; but if it seem

Wisest in your account and best, to eat

Voracious thus the patrimonial goods

Of one man, rend’ring no account of all,[5]

Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry

Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope

That Jove, for retribution of the wrong,

Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there

To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.[5]          480

He ended, and each gnaw’d his lip, aghast

At his undaunted hardiness of speech.

Then thus Antinoüs spake, Eupithes’ son.

Telemachus! the Gods, methinks, themselves

Teach thee sublimity, and to pronounce

Thy matter fearless. Ah forbid it, Jove!

That one so eloquent should with the weight

Of kingly cares in Ithaca be charged,

A realm, by claim hereditary, thine.

Then prudent thus Telemachus replied.          490

Although my speech Antinoüs may, perchance,

Provoke thee, know that I am not averse

From kingly cares, if Jove appoint me such.

Seems it to thee a burthen to be fear’d

By men above all others? trust me, no,

There is no ill in royalty; the man

So station’d, waits not long ere he obtain

Riches and honour. But I grant that Kings

Of the Achaians may no few be found

In sea-girt Ithaca both young and old,          500

Of whom since great Ulysses is no more,

Reign whoso may; but King, myself, I am

In my own house, and over all my own

Domestics, by Ulysses gained for me.

To whom Eurymachus replied, the son

Of Polybus. What Grecian Chief shall reign

In sea-girt Ithaca, must be referr’d

To the Gods’ will, Telemachus! meantime

Thou hast unquestionable right to keep

Thy own, and to command in thy own house.          510

May never that man on her shores arrive,

While an inhabitant shall yet be left

In Ithaca, who shall by violence wrest

Thine from thee. But permit me, noble Sir!

To ask thee of thy guest. Whence came the man?

What country claims him? Where are to be found

His kindred and his patrimonial fields?

Brings he glad tidings of thy Sire’s approach

Homeward? or came he to receive a debt

Due to himself? How swift he disappear’d!          520

Nor opportunity to know him gave

To those who wish’d it; for his face and air

Him speak not of Plebeian birth obscure.

Whom answered thus Telemachus discrete.

Eurymachus! my father comes no more.

I can no longer now tidings believe,

If such arrive; nor he’d I more the song

Of sooth-sayers whom my mother may consult.

But this my guest hath known in other days

My father, and he came from Taphos, son          530

Of brave Anchialus, Mentes by name,

And Chief of the sea-practis’d Taphian race.

So spake Telemachus, but in his heart

Knew well his guest a Goddess from the skies.

Then they to dance and heart-enlivening song

Turn’d joyous, waiting the approach of eve,

And dusky evening found them joyous still.

Then each, to his own house retiring, sought

Needful repose. Meantime Telemachus

To his own lofty chamber, built in view          540

Of the wide hall, retired; but with a heart

In various musings occupied intense.

Sage Euryclea, bearing in each hand

A torch, preceded him; her sire was Ops,

Pisenor’s son, and, in her early prime,

At his own cost Laertes made her his,

Paying with twenty beeves her purchase-price,

Nor in less honour than his spotless wife

He held her ever, but his consort’s wrath

Fearing, at no time call’d her to his bed.          550

She bore the torches, and with truer heart

Loved him than any of the female train,

For she had nurs’d him in his infant years.

He open’d his broad chamber-valves, and sat

On his couch-side: then putting off his vest

Of softest texture, placed it in the hands

Of the attendant dame discrete, who first

Folding it with exactest care, beside

His bed suspended it, and, going forth,

Drew by its silver ring the portal close,          560

And fasten’d it with bolt and brace secure.

There lay Telemachus, on finest wool

Reposed, contemplating all night his course

Prescribed by Pallas to the Pylian shore.

[1] We are told that Homer was under obligations to Mentes, who had frequently given him a passage in his ship to different countries which he wished to see, for which reason he has here immortalised him.

[2] Milton uses the word—Sewers and seneschals.

[3] Ἔρανος, a convivial meeting, at which every man paid his proportion, at least contributed something; but it seems to have been a meeting at which strict sobriety was observed, else Pallas would not have inferred from the noise and riot of this, that it was not such a one.

[4] Οσσα—a word spoken, with respect to the speaker, casually; but with reference to the inquirer supposed to be sent for his information by the especial appointment and providential favour of the Gods.

[5] There is in the Original an evident stress laid on the word Νήποινοι, which is used in both places. It was a sort of Lex Talionis which Telemachus hoped might be put in force against them; and that Jove would demand no satisfaction for the lives of those who made him none for the waste of his property.

end chapter

BOOK II

ARGUMENT

Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him.

Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,

Now ting’d the East, when habited again,

Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed.

Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,

His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,

And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.

At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’d

To call the Greeks to council; they aloud

Gave forth the summons, and the throng began.

When all were gather’d, and the assembly full,          10

Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear,

Went also; nor alone he went; his hounds

Fleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair.

O’er all his form Minerva largely shed

Majestic grace divine, and, as he went,

The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him,

The seniors gave him place, and down he sat

On his paternal Throne. Then grave arose

The Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with age

Was he, and by experience deep-inform’d.          20

His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,

On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone,

The warrior Antiphus, whom in his cave

The savage Cyclops slew, and on his flesh

At ev’ning made obscene his last regale.

Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,

Eurynomus; the other two, employ

Found constant managing their Sire’s concerns.

Yet he forgat not, father as he was

Of these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d          30

Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.

Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!

Nor council here nor session hath been held

Since great Ulysses left his native shore.

Who now convenes us? what especial need

Hath urged him, whether of our youth he be,

Or of our senators by age matured?

Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return,

Which here he would divulge? or brings he aught

Of public import on a diff’rent theme?          40

I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a man

Worthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafe

The full performance of his chief desire!

He ended, and Telemachus rejoiced

In that good omen. Ardent to begin,

He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,

Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand,

His prudent herald, and addressing, next,

The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.

Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself          50

Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,

Who hath convened this council. I, am He.

I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings none

Of the returning host I have received,

Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught

Of public import on a different theme,

But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n,

And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lost

A noble father, who, as fathers rule

Benign their children, govern’d once yourselves;          60

The other, and the more alarming ill,

With ruin threatens my whole house, and all

My patrimony with immediate waste.

Suitors, (their children who in this our isle

Hold highest rank) importunate besiege

My mother, though desirous not to wed,

And rather than resort to her own Sire

Icarius, who might give his daughter dow’r,

And portion her to whom he most approves,

(A course which, only named, moves their disgust)          70

They chuse, assembling all within my gates

Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats

Their banquet, and to drink without restraint

My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;

For I have no Ulysses to relieve

Me and my family from this abuse.

Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!

Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn

How best to use the little force we own;

Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress          80

The evil; for it now surpasses far

All suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d,

Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.

Oh be ashamed[6] yourselves; blush at the thought

Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur

From all our neighbour states, and fear beside

The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call

Yourselves one day to a severe account.

I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her

Whose voice convenes all councils, and again          90

Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,

That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear

My days in solitary grief away,

Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,

Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d,

Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,

Inciting these to plague me. Better far

Were my condition, if yourselves consumed

My substance and my revenue; from you

I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends          100

Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit

O’ercome, from house to house pleading aloud

For recompense, till I at last prevail’d.

But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix

My inmost soul, and I have no redress.

He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast down

His sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sight

Seiz’d all the people; mute the assembly sat

Long time, none dared to greet Telemachus

With answer rough, till of them all, at last,          110

Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.

Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue,

High-sounding orator! it is thy drift

To make us all odious; but the offence

Lies not with us the suitors; she alone

Thy mother, who in subtlety excels,

And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.

It is already the third year, and soon

Shall be the fourth, since with delusive art

Practising on their minds, she hath deceived          120

The Greecians; message after message sent

Brings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,

But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.

Her other arts exhausted all, she framed

This stratagem; a web of amplest size

And subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.

Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief

Ulysses is no more, press not as yet

My nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,

A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)          130

Which for the antient Hero I prepare,

Laertes, looking for the mournful hour

When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;

Else I the censure dread of all my sex,

Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.

So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, we

With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day

She wove the ample web, and by the aid

Of torches ravell’d it again at night.

Three years by such contrivance she deceived          140

The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d)

The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud,

A damsel of her train told all the truth,

And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work.

Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,

Perform’d the task, and in her own despight.

Now therefore, for the information clear

Of thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,

We answer. Send thy mother hence, with charge

That him she wed on whom her father’s choice          150

Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.

But if by long procrastination still

She persevere wearing our patience out,

Attentive only to display the gifts

By Pallas so profusely dealt to her,

Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,

And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek

(For aught that we have heard) in antient times

E’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,

Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art          160

E’er match’d Penelope, although we yield

To this her last invention little praise,

Then know, that these her suitors will consume

So long thy patrimony and thy goods,

As she her present purpose shall indulge,

With which the Gods inspire her. Great renown

She to herself insures, but equal woe

And devastation of thy wealth to thee;

For neither to our proper works at home

Go we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere,          170

Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.

Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus.

Antinoüs! it is not possible

That I should thrust her forth against her will,

Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,

Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,

And should I, voluntary, hence dismiss

My mother to Icarius, I must much

Refund, which hardship were and loss to me.

So doing, I should also wrath incur          180

From my offended Sire, and from the Gods

Still more; for she, departing, would invoke

Erynnis to avenge her, and reproach

Beside would follow me from all mankind.

That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.

No, if ye judge your treatment at her hands

Injurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,

Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye may

Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed

Each at the other’s cost. But if it seem          190

Wisest in your account and best to eat

Voracious thus the patrimonial goods

Of one man, rend’ring no account of all,

Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry

Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope

That Jove, in retribution of the wrong,

Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there

To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.

So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,

The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top          200

Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,

With outspread pinions ample side by side

They floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft,

Right o’er the midst of the assembled Chiefs

They wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes,

And with a downward look eyeing the throng,

Death boded, ominous; then rending each

The other’s face and neck, they sprang at once

Toward the right, and darted through the town.

Amazement universal, at that sight,          210

Seized the assembly, and with anxious thought

Each scann’d the future; amidst whom arose

The Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,

Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment he

Of portents augural, and in forecast

Unerring, his coevals all excell’d,

And prudent thus the multitude bespake.

Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!

Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,

For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe.          220

Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,

Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,

Comes even now, and as he comes, designs

A bloody death for these, whose bitter woes

No few shall share, inhabitants with us

Of pleasant Ithaca; but let us frame

Effectual means maturely to suppress

Their violent deeds, or rather let themselves

Repentant cease; and soonest shall be best.

Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak          230

The future, and the accomplishment announce

Of all which when Ulysses with the Greeks

Embark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold.

I said that, after many woes, and loss

Of all his people, in the twentieth year,

Unknown to all, he should regain his home,

And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d.

Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d rough

The son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,

Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach          240

Thy children to escape woes else to come.

Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day,

Not all predictive. Death, far hence remote

Hath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’n

That, where he died, thyself had perish’d too.

Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecy

As now, nor provocation to the wrath

Giv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win,

Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.

But I to thee foretell, skilled as thou art          250

In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)

That if by artifice thou move to wrath

A younger than thyself, no matter whom,

Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,

Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,

And we will charge thee also with a mulct,

Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bear

The burthen of it with an aching heart.

As for Telemachus, I him advise,

Myself, and press the measure on his choice          260

Earnestly, that he send his mother hence

To her own father’s house, who shall, himself,

Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endow

His daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.

For this expensive wooing, as I judge,

Till then shall never cease; since we regard

No man—no—not Telemachus, although

In words exub’rant; neither fear we aught

Thy vain prognostics, venerable sir!

But only hate thee for their sake the more.          270

Waste will continue and disorder foul

Unremedied, so long as she shall hold

The suitors in suspense, for, day by day,

Our emulation goads us to the strife,

Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouse

Each his own comfort suitable elsewhere.

To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.

Eurymachus, and ye the suitor train

Illustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hear

No more this supplication urged by me.          280

The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.

But give me instantly a gallant bark

With twenty rowers, skill’d their course to win

To whatsoever haven; for I go

To sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thence

To Lacedemon, tidings to obtain

Of my long-absent Sire, or from the lips

Of man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafed

Himself, best source of notice to mankind.

If, there inform’d that still my father lives,          290

I hope conceive of his return, although

Distress’d, I shall be patient yet a year.

But should I learn, haply, that he survives

No longer, then, returning, I will raise

At home his tomb, will with such pomp perform

His fun’ral rites, as his great name demands,

And give my mother’s hand to whom I may.

This said, he sat, and after him arose

Mentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend,

To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d          300

All his concerns, that the old Chief might rule

His family, and keep the whole secure.

Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.

Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never King

Henceforth, benevolent, gracious, humane

Or righteous, but let every sceptred hand

Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,

Since none of all his people, whom he sway’d

With such paternal gentleness and love,

Remembers the divine Ulysses more!          310

That the imperious suitors thus should weave

The web of mischief and atrocious wrong,

I grudge not; since at hazard of their heads

They make Ulysses’ property a prey,

Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.

But much the people move me; how ye sit

All mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,

Opposed to few, risque not a single word

To check the license of these bold intruders!

Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son.          320

Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!

How dar’st thou move the populace against

The suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,

Numerous as they are, to cope with us,

A feast the prize. Or should the King himself

Of Ithaca, returning, undertake

T’ expell the jovial suitors from his house,

Much as Penelope his absence mourns,

His presence should afford her little joy;

For fighting sole with many, he should meet          330

A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss.

As for Telemachus, let Mentor him

And Halytherses furnish forth, the friends

Long valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;

Though him I judge far likelier to remain

Long-time contented an enquirer here,

Than to perform the voyage now proposed.

Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste

The council, and the scattered concourse sought

Their sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d          340

Thence to the palace of their absent King.

Meantime, Telemachus from all resort

Retiring, in the surf of the gray Deep

First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d.

O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guest

Beneath my roof, and didst enjoin me then

A voyage o’er the sable Deep in quest

Of tidings of my long regretted Sire!

Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but most

The haughty suitors, obstinate impede,          350

Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!

Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form,

And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,

In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake.

Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter prove

Nor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,

Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s force

Instill’d into thee, and resemblest him

In promptness both of action and of speech,

Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain.          360

But if Penelope produced thee not

His son, I, then, hope not for good effect

Of this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.

Few sons their fathers equal; most appear

Degenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimes

A son superior even to his Sire.

And since thyself shalt neither base be found

Nor spiritless, nor altogether void

Of talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,

I therefore hope success of thy attempt.          370

Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wise

Are they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doom

Which now approaches them, and in one day

Shall overwhelm them all. No long suspense

Shall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,

Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend,

Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’d

Will serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.

But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,

In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores,          380

Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,

In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, select

Such as shall voluntary share thy toils.

In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and old

Abound, and I will chuse, myself, for thee

The prime of all, which without more delay

We will launch out into the spacious Deep.

Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,

So greeted by the voice divine, remain’d

Telemachus, but to his palace went          390

Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors there

Goats slaying in the hall, and fatted swine

Roasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flew

To meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said,

Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,

And of a spirit not to be controul’d!

Give harbour in thy breast on no account

To after-grudge or enmity, but eat,

Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,

And freely drink, committing all thy cares          400

To the Achaians, who shall furnish forth

A gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,

That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed,

Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Antinoüs! I have no heart to feast

With guests so insolent, nor can indulge

The pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.

Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have used

My noble patrimony as your own          410

While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,

And competent to understand the speech

Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind

Within me conscious of augmented pow’rs,

I will attempt your ruin, be assured,

Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.

I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage prove

Of which I speak, bootless or vain) I go

An humble passenger, who neither bark

Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied          420

That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you.

He said, and from Antinoüs’ hand his own

Drew sudden. Then their delicate repast

The busy suitors on all sides prepar’d,

Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speech

Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,

Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.

I see it plain, Telemachus intends

Our slaughter; either he will aids procure

From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d          430

From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.

Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,

He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb

Which cast into our cup, shall drug us all.

To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.

Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the sea

From all his friends and kindred far remote,

May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us

Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge

To parcel out his wealth would then devolve,          440

And to endow his mother with the house

For his abode whom she should chance to wed.

So sported they; but he, ascending sought

His father’s lofty chamber, where his heaps

He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,

And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.

There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’d

The grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wall

Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour

(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes          450

Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.

Secure that chamber was with folding doors

Of massy planks compact, and night and day,

Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,

Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,

Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.

Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,

Delicious next to that which thou reserv’st

For our poor wand’rer; if escaping death

At last, divine Ulysses e’er return.          460

Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal

Well mill’d (full twenty measures) into skins

Close-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.

Place them together; for at even-tide

I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,

Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.

For hence to Sparta will I take my course,

And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear

(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.

He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound          470

Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash

Possess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,

Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!

To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;

Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,

And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these

Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.

No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none

That thou should’st on the barren Deep distress          480

Encounter, roaming without hope or end.

Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus.

Take courage, nurse! for not without consent

Of the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.

But swear, that till eleven days be past,

Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learn

Herself my going, thou wilt not impart

Of this my purpose to my mother’s ear,

Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.

He ended, and the antient matron swore          490

Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’d

With wine the vessels and the skins with meal,

And he, returning, join’d the throng below.

Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughts

Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged

In semblance of Telemachus, each man

Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek

The gallant ship, and from Noëmon, son

Renown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,

Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply.          500

Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways,

When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,

He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms

And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,

Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.

Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’d

Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.

And now on other purposes intent,

The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews

Of slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye,          510

She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’d

The goblets from their idle hands away.

They through the city reeled, happy to leave

The dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weight

Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.

Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s form

And with the voice of Mentor, summoning

Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake.

Telemachus! already at their oars

Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait          520

Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.

This said, Minerva led him thence, whom he

With nimble steps follow’d, and on the shore

Arrived, found all his mariners prepared,

Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.

Haste, my companions! bring we down the stores

Already sorted and set forth; but nought

My mother knows, or any of her train

Of this design, one matron sole except.

He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought          530

All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,

Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.

Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,

Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,

And at her side Telemachus. The crew

Cast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill’d

The benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the West

Call’d forth propitious breezes; fresh they curled

The sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.

He loud-exhorting them, his people bade          540

Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, reared

The pine-tree mast, which in its socket deep

They lodg’d, then strain’d the cordage, and with thongs

Well-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.

A land-breeze fill’d the canvas, and the flood

Roar’d as she went against the steady bark

That ran with even course her liquid way.

The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,

Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail’d

The ever-living Gods, but above all          550

Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.

Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawn

Had brighten’d into day, cleaved swift the flood.

[6] The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.

end chapter

BOOK III

ARGUMENT

Telemachus arriving at Pylus, enquires of Nestor concerning Ulysses. Nestor relates to him all that he knows or has heard of the Greecians since their departure from the siege of Troy, but not being able to give him any satisfactory account of Ulysses, refers him to Menelaus. At evening Minerva quits Telemachus, but discovers herself in going. Nestor sacrifices to the Goddess, and the solemnity ended, Telemachus sets forth for Sparta in one of Nestor’s chariots, and accompanied by Nestor’s son, Pisistratus.

The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,

Ascended now the brazen vault with light

For the inhabitants of earth and heav’n,

When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,

City of Neleus. On the shore they found

The people sacrificing; bulls they slew

Black without spot, to Neptune azure-hair’d.

On ranges nine of seats they sat; each range

Received five hundred, and to each they made

Allotment equal of nine sable bulls.          10

The feast was now begun; these eating sat

The entrails, those stood off’ring to the God

The thighs, his portion, when the Ithacans

Push’d right ashore, and, furling close the sails,

And making fast their moorings, disembark’d.

Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,

Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address’d.

Telemachus! there is no longer room

For bashful fear, since thou hast cross’d the flood

With purpose to enquire what land conceals          20

Thy father, and what fate hath follow’d him.

Advance at once to the equestrian Chief

Nestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,

Advice well worthy of thy search; entreat

Himself, that he will tell thee only truth,

Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.

To whom Telemachus discrete replied.

Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greet

A Chief like him, unpractis’d as I am

In manag’d phrase? Shame bids the youth beware          30

How he accosts the man of many years.

But him the Goddess answer’d azure-eyed,

Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyself

Fit speech devise, and heav’n will give the rest;

For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train’d

To manhood, under unpropitious Pow’rs.

So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom he

With nimble steps attending, soon arrived

Among the multitude. There Nestor sat,

And Nestor’s sons, while, busily the feast          40

Tending, his num’rous followers roasted, some,

The viands, some, transfix’d them with the spits.

They seeing guests arrived, together all

Advanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,

Invited them to sit; but first, the son

Of Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach’d,

Who, fast’ning on the hands of both, beside

The banquet placed them, where the beach was spread

With fleeces, and where Thrasymedes sat

His brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire.          50

To each a portion of the inner parts

He gave, then fill’d a golden cup with wine,

Which, tasted first, he to the daughter bore

Of Jove the Thund’rer, and her thus bespake.

Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!

For ye have chanced on Neptune’s festival;

And, when thou hast, thyself, libation made

Duly, and pray’r, deliver to thy friend

The gen’rous juice, that he may also make

Libation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer          60

The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.

But, since he younger is, and with myself

Coeval, first I give the cup to thee.

He ceas’d, and to her hand consign’d the cup,

Which Pallas gladly from a youth received

So just and wise, who to herself had first

The golden cup presented, and in pray’r

Fervent the Sov’reign of the Seas adored.

Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafe

To us thy suppliants the desired effect          70

Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestow

On Nestor and his offspring both, then grant

To all the Pylians such a gracious boon

As shall requite their noble off’ring well.

Grant also to Telemachus and me

To voyage hence, possess’d of what we sought

When hither in our sable bark we came.

So Pallas pray’d, and her own pray’r herself

Accomplish’d. To Telemachus she gave

The splendid goblet next, and in his turn          80

Like pray’r Ulysses’ son also preferr’d.

And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)

They next distributed sufficient share

To each, and all were sumptuously regaled.

At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)

Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.

Now with more seemliness we may enquire,

After repast, what guests we have received.

Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the waves

Plough’d hither? Come ye to transact concerns          90

Commercial, or at random roam the Deep

Like pirates, who with mischief charged and woe

To foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?

Him answer’d, bolder now, but still discrete,

Telemachus. For Pallas had his heart

With manly courage arm’d, that he might ask

From Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,

And win, himself, distinction and renown.

Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!

Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence.          100

From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woods

Of Neritus o’erhung, by private need,

Not public, urged, we come. My errand is

To seek intelligence of the renown’d

Ulysses; of my noble father, prais’d

For dauntless courage, whom report proclaims

Conqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.

We have already learn’d where other Chiefs

Who fought at Ilium, died; but Jove conceals

Even the death of my illustrious Sire          110

In dull obscurity; for none hath heard

Or confident can answer, where he dy’d;

Whether he on the continent hath fall’n

By hostile hands, or by the waves o’erwhelm’d

Of Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.

For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg

That thou would’st tell me his disast’rous end,

If either thou beheld’st that dread event

Thyself, or from some wanderer of the Greeks

Hast heard it: for my father at his birth          120

Was, sure, predestin’d to no common woes.

Neither through pity, or o’erstrain’d respect

Flatter me, but explicit all relate

Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire

E’er gratified thee by performance just

Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell

So num’rous slain in fight, oh, recollect

Now his fidelity, and tell me true.

Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.

Young friend! since thou remind’st me, speaking thus,          130

Of all the woes which indefatigable

We sons of the Achaians there sustain’d,

Both those which wand’ring on the Deep we bore

Wherever by Achilles led in quest

Of booty, and the many woes beside

Which under royal Priam’s spacious walls

We suffer’d, know, that there our bravest fell.

There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus’ son;

There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselves

In council, and my son beloved there,          140

Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,

Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;

What tongue of mortal man could all relate?

Should’st thou, abiding here, five years employ

Or six, enquiring of the woes endured

By the Achaians, ere thou should’st have learn’d

The whole, thou would’st depart, tir’d of the tale.

For we, nine years, stratagems of all kinds

Devised against them, and Saturnian Jove

Scarce crown’d the difficult attempt at last.          150

There, no competitor in wiles well-plann’d

Ulysses found, so far were all surpass’d

In shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,

If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,

Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speech

His speech resembles more than might be deem’d

Within the scope of years so green as thine.

There, never in opinion, or in voice

Illustrious Ulysses and myself

Divided were, but, one in heart, contrived          160

As best we might, the benefit of all.

But after Priam’s lofty city sack’d,

And the departure of the Greeks on board

Their barks, and when the Gods had scatter’d them,

Then Jove imagin’d for the Argive host

A sorrowful return; for neither just

Were all, nor prudent, therefore many found

A fate disast’rous through the vengeful ire

Of Jove-born Pallas, who between the sons

Of Atreus sharp contention interposed.          170

They both, irregularly, and against

Just order, summoning by night the Greeks

To council, of whom many came with wine

Oppress’d, promulgated the cause for which

They had convened the people. Then it was

That Menelaus bade the general host

Their thoughts bend homeward o’er the sacred Deep,

Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.

His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,

That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath          180

Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray’r.

Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speed

That fond attempt, for, once provok’d, the Gods

Are not with ease conciliated again.

Thus stood the brothers, altercation hot

Maintaining, till at length, uprose the Greeks

With deaf’ning clamours, and with diff’ring minds.

We slept the night, but teeming with disgust

Mutual, for Jove great woe prepar’d for all.

At dawn of day we drew our gallies down          190

Into the sea, and, hasty, put on board

The spoils and female captives. Half the host,

With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay’d

Supreme commander, and, embarking, half

Push’d forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth’d

The waves before us of the monstrous Deep.

At Tenedos arriv’d, we there perform’d

Sacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reach

Our native land, but unpropitious Jove,

Not yet designing our arrival there,          200

Involved us in dissension fierce again.

For all the crews, followers of the King,

Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,

The son of Atreus, chose a diff’rent course,

And steer’d their oary barks again to Troy.

But I, assured that evil from the Gods

Impended, gath’ring all my gallant fleet,

Fled thence in haste, and warlike Diomede

Exhorting his attendants, also fled.

At length, the Hero Menelaus join’d          210

Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us held

In deep deliberation on the length

Of way before us, whether we should steer

Above the craggy Chios to the isle

Psyria, that island holding on our left,

Or under Chios by the wind-swept heights

Of Mimas. Then we ask’d from Jove a sign,

And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cut

The wide sea to Eubœa sheer athwart,

So soonest to escape the threat’ned harm.          220

Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prows

Cleaving the fishy flood, we reach’d by night

Geræstus, where arrived, we burn’d the thighs

Of num’rous bulls to Neptune, who had safe

Conducted us through all our perilous course.

The fleet of Diomede in safety moor’d

On the fourth day at Argos, but myself

Held on my course to Pylus, nor the wind

One moment thwarted us, or died away,

When Jove had once commanded it to blow.          230

Thus, uninform’d, I have arrived, my son!

Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,

Or who have perish’d; but what news soe’er

I have obtain’d, since my return, with truth

I will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.

The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,

By Neoptolemus, illustrious son

Of brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;

Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown’d

Of Pæas; and Idomeneus at Crete          240

Hath landed all his followers who survive

The bloody war, the waves have swallow’d none.

Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,

Of Agamemnon heard, how he return’d,

And how Ægisthus cruelly contrived

For him a bloody welcome, but himself

Hath with his own life paid the murth’rous deed.

Good is it, therefore, if a son survive

The slain, since Agamemnon’s son hath well

Avenged his father’s death, slaying, himself,          250

Ægisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.

Young friend! (for pleas’d thy vig’rous youth I view,

And just proportion) be thou also bold,

That thine like his may be a deathless name.

Then, prudent, him answer’d Telemachus.

Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!

And righteous was that vengeance; his renown

Achaia’s sons shall far and wide diffuse,

To future times transmitting it in song.

Ah! would that such ability the Gods          260

Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deeds

Might punish of our suitors, whose excess

Enormous, and whose bitter taunts I feel

Continual, object of their subtle hate.

But not for me such happiness the Gods

Have twined into my thread; no, not for me

Or for my father. Patience is our part.

To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.

Young friend! (since thou remind’st me of that theme)

Fame here reports that num’rous suitors haunt          270

Thy palace for thy mother’s sake, and there

Much evil perpetrate in thy despight.

But say, endur’st thou willing their controul

Imperious, or because the people, sway’d

By some response oracular, incline

Against thee? But who knows? the time may come

When to his home restored, either alone,

Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,

Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,

Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst          280

At Troy, the scene of our unnumber’d woes,

She lov’d Ulysses (for I have not known

The Gods assisting so apparently

A mortal man, as him Minerva there)

Should Pallas view thee also with like love

And kind solicitude, some few of those

Should dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.

Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.

That word’s accomplishment I cannot hope;

It promises too much; the thought alone          290

O’erwhelms me; an event so fortunate

Would, unexpected on my part, arrive,

Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.

But Pallas him answer’d cærulean-eyed.

Telemachus! what word was that which leap’d

The iv’ry guard[7] that should have fenced it in?

A God, so willing, could with utmost ease

Save any man, howe’er remote. Myself,

I had much rather, many woes endured,

Revisit home, at last, happy and safe,          300

Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,

As Agamemnon perish’d by the arts

Of base Ægisthus and the subtle Queen.

Yet not the Gods themselves can save from death

All-levelling, the man whom most they love,

When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Howe’er it interest us, let us leave

This question, Mentor! He, I am assured,

Returns no more, but hath already found          310

A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav’n.

But I would now interrogate again

Nestor, and on a different theme, for him

In human rights I judge, and laws expert,

And in all knowledge beyond other men;

For he hath govern’d, as report proclaims,

Three generations; therefore in my eyes

He wears the awful impress of a God.

Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;

What was the manner of Atrides’ death,          320

Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me where

Was Menelaus? By what means contrived

Ægisthus to inflict the fatal blow,

Slaying so much a nobler than himself?

Had not the brother of the Monarch reach’d

Achaian Argos yet, but, wand’ring still

In other climes, his long absence gave

Ægisthus courage for that bloody deed?

Whom answer’d the Gerenian Chief renown’d.

My son! I will inform thee true; meantime          330

Thy own suspicions border on the fact.

Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair’d,

Ægisthus found living at his return

From Ilium, never on his bones the Greeks

Had heap’d a tomb, but dogs and rav’ning fowls

Had torn him lying in the open field

Far from the town, nor him had woman wept

Of all in Greece, for he had foul transgress’d.

But we, in many an arduous task engaged,

Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure          340

Within the green retreats of Argos, found

Occasion apt by flatt’ry to delude

The spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,

(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refused

The deed dishonourable (for she bore

A virtuous mind, and at her side a bard

Attended ever, whom the King, to Troy

Departing, had appointed to the charge.)

But when the Gods had purposed to ensnare

Ægisthus, then dismissing far remote          350

The bard into a desart isle, he there

Abandon’d him to rav’ning fowls a prey,

And to his own home, willing as himself,

Led Clytemnestra. Num’rous thighs he burn’d

On all their hallow’d altars to the Gods,

And hung with tap’stry, images, and gold

Their shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev’d.

We (Menelaus and myself) had sailed

From Troy together, but when we approach’d

Sunium, headland of th’ Athenian shore,          360

There Phœbus, sudden, with his gentle shafts

Slew Menelaus’ pilot while he steer’d

The volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor’s son,

A mariner past all expert, whom none

In steerage match’d, what time the tempest roar’d.

Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,

Giving his friend due burial, and his rites

Funereal celebrating, though in haste

Still to proceed. But when, with all his fleet

The wide sea traversing, he reach’d at length          370

Malea’s lofty foreland in his course,

Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.

Shrill blasts the Thund’rer pour’d into his sails,

And wild waves sent him mountainous. His ships

There scatter’d, some to the Cydonian coast

Of Crete he push’d, near where the Jardan flows.

Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,

Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steep

Toward the sea, against whose leftward point

Phæstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge          380

Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.

Hither with part he came, and scarce the crews

Themselves escaped, while the huge billows broke

Their ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,

Which winds and waves drove to the Ægyptian shore.

Thus he, provision gath’ring as he went

And gold abundant, roam’d to distant lands

And nations of another tongue. Meantime,

Ægisthus these enormities at home

Devising, slew Atrides, and supreme          390

Rul’d the subjected land; sev’n years he reign’d

In opulent Mycenæ, but the eighth

From Athens brought renown’d Orestes home

For his destruction, who of life bereaved

Ægisthus base assassin of his Sire.

Orestes, therefore, the funereal rites

Performing to his shameless mother’s shade

And to her lustful paramour, a feast

Gave to the Argives; on which self-same day

The warlike Menelaus, with his ships          400

All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.

And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken home

Rove not long time remote, thy treasures left

At mercy of those proud, lest they divide

And waste the whole, rend’ring thy voyage vain.

But hence to Menelaus is the course

To which I counsel thee; for he hath come

Of late from distant lands, whence to escape

No man could hope, whom tempests first had driv’n

Devious into so wide a sea, from which          410

Themselves the birds of heaven could not arrive

In a whole year, so vast is the expanse.

Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if more

The land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not want

Nor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guides

To noble Lacedemon, the abode

Of Menelaus; ask from him the truth,

Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.

While thus he spake, the sun declined, and night

Approaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed.          420

O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.

But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,[8]

And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invoked

With due libation, and the other Gods)

We may repair to rest; for even now

The sun is sunk, and it becomes us not

Long to protract a banquet to the Gods

Devote, but in fit season to depart.

So spake Jove’s daughter; they obedient heard.

The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,          430

And the attendant youths, filling the cups,

Served them from left to right. Next all the tongues

They cast into the fire, and ev’ry guest

Arising, pour’d libation to the Gods.

Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,

Godlike Telemachus and Pallas both

Would have return’d, incontinent, on board,

But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.

Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow’rs of heav’n!

That ye should leave me to repair on board          440

Your vessel, as I were some needy wretch

Cloakless and destitute of fleecy stores

Wherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,

Or for my guests. No. I have garments warm

An ample store, and rugs of richest dye;

And never shall Ulysses’ son belov’d,

My frend’s own son, sleep on a galley’s plank

While I draw vital air; grant also, heav’n,

That, dying, I may leave behind me sons

Glad to accommodate whatever guest!          450

Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bids

Telemachus thy kind commands obey.

Let him attend thee hence, that he may sleep

Beneath thy roof, but I return on board

Myself, to instruct my people, and to give

All needful orders; for among them none

Is old as I, but they are youths alike,

Coevals of Telemachus, with whom

They have embark’d for friendship’s sake alone.          460

I therefore will repose myself on board

This night, and to the Caucons bold in arms

Will sail to-morrow, to demand arrears

Long time unpaid, and of no small amount.

But, since he is become thy guest, afford

My friend a chariot, and a son of thine

Who shall direct his way, nor let him want

Of all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.

So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborne

On eagle’s wings, vanish’d; amazement seized          470

The whole assembly, and the antient King

O’erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the hand

Grasp’d of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.

My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt prove

Nor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the Gods

Already take in charge; for of the Pow’rs

Inhabitants of heav’n, none else was this

Than Jove’s own daughter Pallas, who among

The Greecians honour’d most thy gen’rous Sire.

But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all,          480

Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to each

A glorious name, and I to thee will give

For sacrifice an heifer of the year,

Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borne

The yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.

So Nestor pray’d, whom Pallas gracious heard.

Then the Gerenian warrior old, before

His sons and sons in law, to his abode

Magnificent proceeded: they (arrived

Within the splendid palace of the King)          490

On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,

Whom Nestor welcom’d, charging high the cup

With wine of richest sort, which she who kept

That treasure, now in the eleventh year

First broach’d, unsealing the delicious juice.

With this the hoary Senior fill’d a cup,

And to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d

Pouring libation, offer’d fervent pray’r.

When all had made libation, and no wish

Remain’d of more, then each to rest retired,          500

And Nestor the Gerenian warrior old

Led thence Telemachus to a carved couch

Beneath the sounding portico prepared.

Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,

Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the sole

Unwedded in his house of all his sons.

Himself in the interior palace lay,

Where couch and cov’ring for her antient spouse

The consort Queen had diligent prepar’d.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,          510

Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,

Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and sat

Before his palace-gate on the white stones

Resplendent as with oil, on which of old

His father Neleus had been wont to sit,

In council like a God; but he had sought,

By destiny dismiss’d long since, the shades.

On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,

Achaia’s guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,

Where soon his num’rous sons, leaving betimes          520

The place of their repose, also appeared,

Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,

Aretus and Pisistratus. They placed

Godlike Telemachus at Nestor’s side,

And the Gerenian Hero thus began.

Sons be ye quick—execute with dispatch

My purpose, that I may propitiate first

Of all the Gods Minerva, who herself

Hath honour’d manifest our hallow’d feast.

Haste, one, into the field, to order thence          530

An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.

Another, hasting to the sable bark

Of brave Telemachus, bring hither all

His friends, save two, and let a third command

Laerceus, that he come to enwrap with gold

The victim’s horns. Abide ye here, the rest,

And bid my female train (for I intend

A banquet) with all diligence provide

Seats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.

He said, whom instant all obey’d. The ox          540

Came from the field, and from the gallant ship

The ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;

Next, charged with all his implements of art,

His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smith

To give the horns their gilding; also came

Pallas herself to her own sacred rites.

Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish’d gold,

Which, hammer’d thin, the artist wrapp’d around

The victim’s horns, that seeing him attired

So costly, Pallas might the more be pleased.          550

Stratius and brave Echephron introduced

The victim by his horns; Aretus brought

A laver in one hand, with flow’rs emboss’d,

And in his other hand a basket stored

With cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm’d

With his long-hafted ax, prepared to smite

The ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.

The hoary Nestor consecrated first

Both cakes and water, and with earnest pray’r

To Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames.          560

When all had worshipp’d, and the broken cakes

Sprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drew

Close to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edge

Enter’d, and senseless on the floor he fell.

Then Nestor’s daughters, and the consorts all

Of Nestor’s sons, with his own consort, chaste

Eurydice, the daughter eldest-born

Of Clymenus, in one shrill orison

Vocif’rous join’d, while they, lifting the ox,

Held him supported firmly, and the prince          570

Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.

Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and life

Had left the victim, spreading him abroad,

With nice address they parted at the joint

His thighs, and wrapp’d them in the double cawl,

Which with crude slices thin they overspread.

Nestor burn’d incense, and libation pour’d

Large on the hissing brands, while him beside,

Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youth

Train’d to the task. The thighs consumed, each took

His portion of the maw, then, slashing well          581

The remnant, they transpierced it with the spits

Neatly, and held it reeking at the fire.

Meantime the youngest of the daughters fair

Of Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,

Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathed

Telemachus, who, so refresh’d, stepp’d forth

From the bright laver graceful as a God,

And took his seat at antient Nestor’s side.

The viands dress’d, and from the spits withdrawn,          590

They sat to share the feast, and princely youths

Arising, gave them wine in cups of gold.

When neither hunger now nor thirst remain’d

Unsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.

My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,

And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.

So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,

Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,

And the intendant matron of the stores

Disposed meantime within the chariot, bread          600

And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.

Telemachus into the chariot first

Ascended, and beside him, next, his place

Pisistratus the son of Nestor took,

Then seiz’d the reins, and lash’d the coursers on.

They, nothing loth, into the open plain

Flew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.

Thus, journeying, they shook on either side

The yoke all day, and now the setting sun

To dusky evening had resign’d the roads,          610

When they to Pheræ came, and the abode

Reach’d of Diocles, whose illustrious Sire

Orsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,

And there, with kindness entertain’d, they slept.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,

They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.

The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forth

Through vestibule and sounding portico

The royal coursers, not unwilling, flew.          620

A corn-invested land receiv’d them next,

And there they brought their journey to a close,

So rapidly they moved; and now the sun

Went down, and even-tide dimm’d all the ways.

[7] Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—

“When words like these in vocal breath

Burst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”

[8] It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.

end chapter

BOOK IV

ARGUMENT

Telemachus, with Pisistratus, arrives at the palace of Menelaus, from whom he receives some fresh information concerning the return of the Greecians, and is in particular told on the authority of Proteus, that his father is detained by Calypso. The suitors, plotting against the life of Telemachus, lie in wait to intercept him in his return to Ithaca. Penelope being informed of his departure, and of their designs to slay him, becomes inconsolable, but is relieved by a dream sent to her from Minerva.

In hollow Lacedæmon’s spacious vale

Arriving, to the house they drove direct

Of royal Menelaus; him they found

In his own palace, all his num’rous friends

Regaling at a nuptial banquet giv’n

Both for his daughter and the prince his son.

His daughter to renown’d Achilles’ heir

He sent, to whom he had at Troy engaged

To give her, and the Gods now made her his.

With chariots and with steeds he sent her forth          10

To the illustrious city where the prince,

Achilles’ offspring, ruled the Myrmidons.

But to his son he gave a Spartan fair,

Alector’s daughter; from an handmaid sprang

That son to Menelaus in his age,

Brave Megapenthes; for the Gods no child

To Helen gave, made mother, once, of her

Who vied in perfect loveliness of form

With golden Venus’ self, Hermione.

Thus all the neighbour princes and the friends          20

Of noble Menelaus, feasting sat

Within his spacious palace, among whom

A sacred bard sang sweetly to his harp,

While, in the midst, two dancers smote the ground

With measur’d steps responsive to his song.

And now the Heroes, Nestor’s noble son

And young Telemachus arrived within

The vestibule, whom, issuing from the hall,

The noble Eteoneus of the train

Of Menelaus, saw; at once he ran          30

Across the palace to report the news

To his Lord’s ear, and, standing at his side,

In accents wing’d with haste thus greeted him.

Oh Menelaus! Heav’n descended Chief!

Two guests arrive, both strangers, but the race

Of Jove supreme resembling each in form.

Say, shall we loose, ourselves, their rapid steeds,

Or hence dismiss them to some other host?

But Menelaus, Hero golden-hair’d,

Indignant answer’d him. Boethe’s son!          40

Thou wast not, Eteoneus, heretofore,

A babbler, who now pratest as a child.

We have ourselves arrived indebted much

To hospitality of other men,

If Jove shall, even here, some pause at last

Of woe afford us. Therefore loose, at once,

Their steeds, and introduce them to the feast.

He said, and, issuing, Eteoneus call’d

The brisk attendants to his aid, with whom

He loos’d their foaming coursers from the yoke.          50

Them first they bound to mangers, which with oats

And mingled barley they supplied, then thrust

The chariot sidelong to the splendid wall.[9]

Themselves he, next, into the royal house

Conducted, who survey’d, wond’ring, the abode

Of the heav’n-favour’d King; for on all sides

As with the splendour of the sun or moon

The lofty dome of Menelaus blazed.

Satiate, at length, with wonder at that sight,

They enter’d each a bath, and by the hands          60

Of maidens laved, and oil’d, and cloath’d again

With shaggy mantles and resplendent vests,

Sat both enthroned at Menelaus’ side.

And now a maiden charged with golden ew’r,

And with an argent laver, pouring first

Pure water on their hands, supplied them next

With a bright table, which the maiden, chief

In office, furnish’d plenteously with bread

And dainties, remnants of the last regale.

Then came the sew’r, who with delicious meats          70

Dish after dish, served them, and placed beside

The chargers cups magnificent of gold,

When Menelaus grasp’d their hands, and said.

Eat and rejoice, and when ye shall have shared

Our nuptial banquet, we will then inquire

Who are ye both, for, certain, not from those

Whose generation perishes are ye,

But rather of some race of sceptred Chiefs

Heav’n-born; the base have never sons like you.

So saying, he from the board lifted his own          80

Distinguish’d portion, and the fatted chine

Gave to his guests; the sav’ry viands they

With outstretch’d hands assail’d, and when the force

No longer now of appetite they felt,

Telemachus, inclining close his head

To Nestor’s son, lest others should his speech

Witness, in whisper’d words him thus address’d.

Dearest Pisistratus, observe, my friend!

How all the echoing palace with the light

Of beaming brass, of gold and amber shines          90

Silver and ivory! for radiance such

Th’ interior mansion of Olympian Jove

I deem. What wealth, how various, how immense

Is here! astonish’d I survey the sight!

But Menelaus, golden-hair’d, his speech

O’erhearing, thus in accents wing’d replied

My children! let no mortal man pretend

Comparison with Jove; for Jove’s abode

And all his stores are incorruptible.

But whether mortal man with me may vie          100

In the display of wealth, or whether not,

This know, that after many toils endured,

And perilous wand’rings wide, in the eighth year

I brought my treasures home. Remote I roved

To Cyprus, to Phœnice, to the shores

Of Ægypt; Æthiopia’s land I reach’d,

Th’ Erembi, the Sidonians, and the coasts

Of Lybia, where the lambs their foreheads shew

At once with horns defended, soon as yean’d.

There, thrice within the year the flocks produce,          110

Nor master, there, nor shepherd ever feels

A dearth of cheese, of flesh, or of sweet milk

Delicious, drawn from udders never dry.

While, thus, commodities on various coasts

Gath’ring I roam’d, another, by the arts

Of his pernicious spouse aided, of life

Bereav’d my brother privily, and when least

He fear’d to lose it. Therefore little joy

To me results from all that I possess.

Your fathers (be those fathers who they may)          120

These things have doubtless told you; for immense

Have been my suff’rings, and I have destroy’d

A palace well inhabited and stored

With precious furniture in ev’ry kind;

Such, that I would to heav’n! I own’d at home

Though but the third of it, and that the Greeks

Who perish’d then, beneath the walls of Troy

Far from steed-pastured Argos, still survived.

Yet while, sequester’d here, I frequent mourn

My slaughter’d friends, by turns I sooth my soul          130

With tears shed for them, and by turns again

I cease; for grief soon satiates free indulged.

But of them all, although I all bewail,

None mourn I so as one, whom calling back

To memory, I both sleep and food abhor.

For, of Achaia’s sons none ever toiled

Strenuous as Ulysses; but his lot

Was woe, and unremitting sorrow mine

For his long absence, who, if still he live,

We know not aught, or be already dead.          140

Him doubtless, old Laertes mourns, and him

Discrete Penelope, nor less his son

Telemachus, born newly when he sail’d.

So saying, he kindled in him strong desire

To mourn his father; at his father’s name

Fast fell his tears to ground, and with both hands

He spread his purple cloak before his eyes;

Which Menelaus marking, doubtful sat

If he should leave him leisure for his tears,

Or question him, and tell him all at large.          150

While thus he doubted, Helen (as it chanced)

Leaving her fragrant chamber, came, august

As Dian, goddess of the golden bow.

Adrasta, for her use, set forth a throne,

Alcippe with soft arras cover’d it,

And Philo brought her silver basket, gift

Of fair Alcandra, wife of Polybus,

Whose mansion in Ægyptian Thebes is rich

In untold treasure, and who gave, himself,

Ten golden talents, and two silver baths          160

To Menelaus, with two splendid tripods

Beside the noble gifts which, at the hand

Of his illustrious spouse, Helen receiv’d;

A golden spindle, and a basket wheel’d,

Itself of silver, and its lip of gold.

That basket Philo, her own handmaid, placed

At beauteous Helen’s side, charged to the brim

With slender threads, on which the spindle lay

With wool of purple lustre wrapp’d around.

Approaching, on her foot-stool’d throne she sat,          170

And, instant, of her royal spouse enquired.

Know we, my Menelaus, dear to Jove!

These guests of ours, and whence they have arrived?

Erroneous I may speak, yet speak I must;

In man or woman never have I seen

Such likeness to another (wonder-fixt

I gaze) as in this stranger to the son

Of brave Ulysses, whom that Hero left

New-born at home, when (shameless as I was)

For my unworthy sake the Greecians sailed          180

To Ilium, with fierce rage of battle fir’d.

Then Menelaus, thus, the golden-hair’d.

I also such resemblance find in him

As thou; such feet, such hands, the cast of eye[10]

Similar, and the head and flowing locks.

And even now, when I Ulysses named,

And his great sufferings mention’d, in my cause,

The bitter tear dropp’d from his lids, while broad

Before his eyes his purple cloak he spread.

To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.          190

Atrides! Menelaus! Chief renown’d!

He is in truth his son, as thou hast said,

But he is modest, and would much himself

Condemn, if, at his first arrival here,

He should loquacious seem and bold to thee,

To whom we listen, captived by thy voice,

As if some God had spoken. As for me,

Nestor, my father, the Gerenian Chief

Bade me conduct him hither, for he wish’d

To see thee, promising himself from thee          200

The benefit of some kind word or deed.

For, destitute of other aid, he much

His father’s tedious absence mourns at home.

So fares Telemachus; his father strays

Remote, and, in his stead, no friend hath he

Who might avert the mischiefs that he feels.

To whom the Hero amber-hair’d replied.

Ye Gods! the offspring of indeed a friend

Hath reach’d my house, of one who hath endured

Arduous conflicts num’rous for my sake;          210

And much I purpos’d, had Olympian Jove

Vouchsaf’d us prosp’rous passage o’er the Deep,

To have receiv’d him with such friendship here

As none beside. In Argos I had then

Founded a city for him, and had rais’d

A palace for himself; I would have brought

The Hero hither, and his son, with all

His people, and with all his wealth, some town

Evacuating for his sake, of those

Ruled by myself, and neighb’ring close my own.          220

Thus situate, we had often interchanged

Sweet converse, nor had other cause at last

Our friendship terminated or our joys,

Than death’s black cloud o’ershadowing him or me.

But such delights could only envy move

Ev’n in the Gods, who have, of all the Greeks,

Amerc’d him only of his wish’d return.

So saying, he kindled the desire to weep

In ev’ry bosom. Argive Helen wept

Abundant, Jove’s own daughter; wept as fast          230

Telemachus and Menelaus both;

Nor Nestor’s son with tearless eyes remain’d,

Calling to mind Antilochus[11] by the son[12]

Illustrious of the bright Aurora slain,

Rememb’ring whom, in accents wing’d he said.

Atrides! antient Nestor, when of late

Conversing with him, we remember’d thee,

Pronounced thee wise beyond all human-kind.

Now therefore, let not even my advice

Displease thee. It affords me no delight          240

To intermingle tears with my repast,

And soon, Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Will tinge the orient. Not that I account

Due lamentation of a friend deceased

Blameworthy, since, to sheer the locks and weep,

Is all we can for the unhappy dead.

I also have my grief, call’d to lament

One, not the meanest of Achaia’s sons,

My brother; him I cannot but suppose

To thee well-known, although unknown to me          250

Who saw him never;[13] but report proclaims

Antilochus superior to the most,

In speed superior, and in feats of arms.

To whom, the Hero of the yellow locks.

O friend belov’d! since nought which thou hast said

Or recommended now, would have disgraced

A man of years maturer far than thine,

(For wise thy father is, and such art thou,

And easy is it to discern the son

Of such a father, whom Saturnian Jove          260

In marriage both and at his birth ordain’d

To great felicity; for he hath giv’n

To Nestor gradually to sink at home

Into old age, and, while he lives, to see

His sons past others wise, and skill’d in arms)

The sorrow into which we sudden fell

Shall pause. Come—now remember we the feast;

Pour water on our hands, for we shall find,

(Telemachus and I) no dearth of themes

For mutual converse when the day shall dawn.          270

He ended; then, Asphalion, at his word,

Servant of glorious Menelaus, poured

Pure water on their hands, and they the feast

Before them with keen appetite assail’d.

But Jove-born Helen otherwise, meantime,

Employ’d, into the wine of which they drank

A drug infused, antidote to the pains

Of grief and anger, a most potent charm

For ills of ev’ry name. Whoe’er his wine

So medicated drinks, he shall not pour          280

All day the tears down his wan cheek, although

His father and his mother both were dead,

Nor even though his brother or his son

Had fall’n in battle, and before his eyes.

Such drugs Jove’s daughter own’d, with skill prepar’d,

And of prime virtue, by the wife of Thone,

Ægyptian Polydamna, giv’n her.

For Ægypt teems with drugs, yielding no few

Which, mingled with the drink, are good, and many

Of baneful juice, and enemies to life.          290

There ev’ry man in skill medicinal

Excels, for they are sons of Pæon all.

That drug infused, she bade her servant pour

The bev’rage forth, and thus her speech resumed.

Atrides! Menelaus! dear to Jove!

These also are the sons of Chiefs renown’d,

(For Jove, as pleases him, to each assigns

Or good or evil, whom all things obey)

Now therefore, feasting at your ease reclin’d,

Listen with pleasure, for myself, the while,          300

Will matter seasonable interpose.

I cannot all rehearse, nor even name,

(Omitting none) the conflicts and exploits

Of brave Ulysses; but with what address

Successful, one atchievement he perform’d

At Ilium, where Achaia’s sons endured

Such hardship, will I speak. Inflicting wounds

Dishonourable on himself, he took

A tatter’d garb, and like a serving-man

Enter’d the spacious city of your foes.          310

So veil’d, some mendicant he seem’d, although

No Greecian less deserved that name than he.

In such disguise he enter’d; all alike

Misdeem’d him; me alone he not deceived

Who challeng’d him, but, shrewd, he turn’d away.

At length, however, when I had myself

Bathed him, anointed, cloath’d him, and had sworn

Not to declare him openly in Troy

Till he should reach again the camp and fleet,

He told me the whole purpose of the Greeks.          320

Then, (many a Trojan slaughter’d,) he regain’d

The camp, and much intelligence he bore

To the Achaians. Oh what wailing then

Was heard of Trojan women! but my heart

Exulted, alter’d now, and wishing home;

For now my crime committed under force

Of Venus’ influence I deplored, what time

She led me to a country far remote,

A wand’rer from the matrimonial bed,

From my own child, and from my rightful Lord          330

Alike unblemish’d both in form and mind.

Her answer’d then the Hero golden-hair’d.

Helen! thou hast well spoken. All is true.

I have the talents fathom’d and the minds

Of num’rous Heroes, and have travell’d far

Yet never saw I with these eyes in man

Such firmness as the calm Ulysses own’d;

None such as in the wooden horse he proved,

Where all our bravest sat, designing woe

And bloody havoc for the sons of Troy.          340

Thou thither cam’st, impell’d, as it should seem,

By some divinity inclin’d to give

Victory to our foes, and with thee came

Godlike Deiphobus. Thrice round about

The hollow ambush, striking with thy hand

Its sides thou went’st, and by his name didst call

Each prince of Greece feigning his consort’s voice.

Myself with Diomede, and with divine

Ulysses, seated in the midst, the call

Heard plain and loud; we (Diomede and I)          350

With ardour burn’d either to quit the horse

So summon’d, or to answer from within.

But, all impatient as we were, Ulysses

Controul’d the rash design; so there the sons

Of the Achaians silent sat and mute,

And of us all Anticlus would alone

Have answer’d; but Ulysses with both hands

Compressing close his lips, saved us, nor ceased

Till Pallas thence conducted thee again.

Then thus, discrete, Telemachus replied.          360

Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!

Hard was his lot whom these rare qualities

Preserved not, neither had his dauntless heart

Been iron, had he scaped his cruel doom.

But haste, dismiss us hence, that on our beds

Reposed, we may enjoy sleep, needful now.

He ceas’d; then Argive Helen gave command

To her attendant maidens to prepare

Beds in the portico with purple rugs

Resplendent, and with arras, overspread,          370

And cover’d warm with cloaks of shaggy pile.

Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch,

And spread the couches; next, the herald them

Led forth, and in the vestibule the son

Of Nestor and the youthful Hero slept,

Telemachus; but in the interior house

Atrides, with the loveliest of her sex

Beside him, Helen of the sweeping stole.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Glow’d in the East, then from his couch arose          380

The warlike Menelaus, fresh attir’d;

His faulchion o’er his shoulders slung, he bound

His sandals fair to his unsullied feet,

And like a God issuing, at the side

Sat of Telemachus, to whom he spake.

Hero! Telemachus! what urgent cause

Hath hither led thee, to the land far-famed

Of Lacedæmon o’er the spacious Deep?

Public concern or private? Tell me true.

To whom Telemachus discrete replied.          390

Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!

News seeking of my Sire, I have arrived.

My household is devour’d, my fruitful fields

Are desolated, and my palace fill’d

With enemies, who while they mutual wage

Proud competition for my mother’s love,

My flocks continual slaughter, and my beeves.

For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg

That thou wouldst tell me his disastrous end,

If either thou beheld’st with thine own eyes          400

His death, or from some wand’rer of the Greeks

Hast heard it; for no common woes, alas!

Was he ordain’d to share ev’n from the womb.

Neither through pity or o’erstrain’d respect

Flatter me, but explicit all relate

Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire

E’er gratified thee by performance just

Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell

So num’rous slain in fight, oh recollect

Now his fidelity, and tell me true!          410

Then Menelaus, sighing deep, replied.

Gods! their ambition is to reach the bed

Of a brave man, however base themselves.

But as it chances, when the hart hath lay’d

Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest

Within some dreadful lion’s gloomy den,

She roams the hills, and in the grassy vales

Feeds heedless, till the lion, to his lair

Return’d, destroys her and her little-ones,

So them thy Sire shall terribly destroy.          420

Jove, Pallas and Apollo! oh that such

As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove

With Philomelides, and threw him flat,

A sight at which Achaia’s sons rejoic’d,

Such, now, Ulysses might assail them all!

Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs.

But thy enquiries neither indirect

Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,

But all that from the Antient of the Deep[14]

I have receiv’d will utter, hiding nought.          430

As yet the Gods on Ægypt’s shore detained

Me wishing home, angry at my neglect

To heap their altars with slain hecatombs.

For they exacted from us evermore

Strict rev’rence of their laws. There is an isle

Amid the billowy flood, Pharos by name,

In front of Ægypt, distant from her shore

Far as a vessel by a sprightly gale

Impell’d, may push her voyage in a day.

The haven there is good, and many a ship          440

Finds wat’ring there from riv’lets on the coast.

There me the Gods kept twenty days, no breeze

Propitious granting, that might sweep the waves,

And usher to her home the flying bark.

And now had our provision, all consumed,

Left us exhausted, but a certain nymph

Pitying saved me. Daughter fair was she

Of mighty Proteus, Antient of the Deep,

Idothea named; her most my sorrows moved;

She found me from my followers all apart          450

Wand’ring (for they around the isle, with hooks

The fishes snaring roamed, by famine urged)

And standing at my side, me thus bespake.

Stranger! thou must be ideot born, or weak

At least in intellect, or thy delight

Is in distress and mis’ry, who delay’st

To leave this island, and no egress hence

Canst find, although thy famish’d people faint.

So spake the Goddess, and I thus replied.

I tell thee, whosoever of the Pow’rs          460

Divine thou art, that I am prison’d here

Not willingly, but must have, doubtless, sinn’d

Against the deathless tenants of the skies.

Yet say (for the Immortals all things know)

What God detains me, and my course forbids

Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?

So I; to whom the Goddess all-divine.

Stranger! I will inform thee true. A seer

Oracular, the Antient of the Deep,

Immortal Proteus, the Ægyptian, haunts          470

These shores, familiar with all Ocean’s gulphs,

And Neptune’s subject. He is by report

My father; him if thou art able once

To seize and bind, he will prescribe the course

With all its measured distances, by which

Thou shalt regain secure thy native shores.

He will, moreover, at thy suit declare,

Thou favour’d of the skies! what good, what ill

Hath in thine house befall’n, while absent thou

Thy voyage difficult perform’st and long.          480

She spake, and I replied—Thyself reveal

By what effectual bands I may secure

The antient Deity marine, lest, warn’d

Of my approach, he shun me and escape.

Hard task for mortal hands to bind a God!

Then thus Idothea answer’d all-divine.

I will inform thee true. Soon as the sun

Hath climb’d the middle heav’ns, the prophet old,

Emerging while the breezy zephyr blows,

And cover’d with the scum of ocean, seeks          490

His spacious cove, in which outstretch’d he lies.

The phocæ[15] also, rising from the waves,

Offspring of beauteous Halosydna, sleep

Around him, num’rous, and the fishy scent

Exhaling rank of the unfathom’d flood.

Thither conducting thee at peep of day

I will dispose thee in some safe recess,

But from among thy followers thou shalt chuse

The bravest three in all thy gallant fleet.

And now the artifices understand          500

Of the old prophet of the sea. The sum

Of all his phocæ numb’ring duly first,

He will pass through them, and when all by fives

He counted hath, will in the midst repose

Content, as sleeps the shepherd with his flock.

When ye shall see him stretch’d, then call to mind

That moment all your prowess, and prevent,

Howe’er he strive impatient, his escape.

All changes trying, he will take the form

Of ev’ry reptile on the earth, will seem          510

A river now, and now devouring fire;

But hold him ye, and grasp him still the more.

And when himself shall question you, restored

To his own form in which ye found him first

Reposing, then from farther force abstain;

Then, Hero! loose the Antient of the Deep,

And ask him, of the Gods who checks thy course

Hence to thy country o’er the fishy flood.

So saying, she plunged into the billowy waste.

I then, in various musings lost, my ships          520

Along the sea-beach station’d sought again,

And when I reach’d my galley on the shore

We supp’d, and sacred night falling from heav’n,

Slept all extended on the ocean-side.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy forth, pensive beside the shore

I walk’d of Ocean, frequent to the Gods

Praying devout, then chose the fittest three

For bold assault, and worthiest of my trust.

Meantime the Goddess from the bosom wide          530

Of Ocean rising, brought us thence four skins

Of phocæ, and all newly stript, a snare

Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire.

Four cradles in the sand she scoop’d, then sat

Expecting us, who in due time approach’d;

She lodg’d us side by side, and over each

A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves

Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent

Of the sea-nourish’d phocæ sore annoy’d;

For who would lay him down at a whale’s side?          540

But she a potent remedy devised

Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth’d

Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought

Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued.

All morning, patient watchers, there we lay;

And now the num’rous phocæ from the Deep

Emerging, slept along the shore, and he

At noon came also, and perceiving there

His fatted monsters, through the flock his course

Took regular, and summ’d them; with the first          550

He number’d us, suspicion none of fraud

Conceiving, then couch’d also. We, at once,

Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms

Constrain’d him fast; nor the sea-prophet old

Call’d not incontinent his shifts to mind.

First he became a long-maned lion grim,

Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar,

A limpid stream, and an o’ershadowing tree.

We persevering held him, till at length

The Antient of the Deep, skill’d as he is          560

In wiles, yet weary, question’d me, and said.

Oh Atreus’ son, by what confed’rate God

Instructed liest thou in wait for me,

To seize and hold me? what is thy desire?

So He; to whom thus answer I return’d.

Old Seer! thou know’st; why, fraudful, should’st thou ask?

It is because I have been prison’d long

Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain

Deliv’rance, till my wonted courage fails.

Yet say (for the Immortals all things know)          570

What God detains me, and my course forbids

Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?

So I; when thus the old one of the waves.

But thy plain duty[16] was to have adored

Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods,

That then embarking, by propitious gales

Impell’d, thou might’st have reach’d thy country soon.

For thou art doom’d ne’er to behold again

Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores,

Till thou have seen once more the hallow’d flood          580

Of Ægypt, and with hecatombs adored

Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies.

Then will they speed thee whither thou desir’st.

He ended, and my heart broke at his words,

Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph

To Ægypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve!

Yet, though in sorrow whelm’d, I thus replied.

Old prophet! I will all thy will perform.

But tell me, and the truth simply reveal;

Have the Achaians with their ships arrived          590

All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy?

Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks,

Or in their followers’ arms found a dire death

Unlook’d for, since that city’s siege we closed?

I spake, when answer thus the God return’d.

Atrides, why these questions? Need is none

That thou should’st all my secrets learn, which once

Reveal’d, thou would’st not long dry-eyed remain.

Of those no few have died, and many live;

But leaders, two alone, in their return          600

Have died (thou also hast had war to wage)

And one, still living, roams the boundless sea.

Ajax,[17] surrounded by his galleys, died.

Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks

The Gyræ drove, but saved him from the Deep;

Nor had he perish’d, hated as he was

By Pallas, but for his own impious boast

In frenzy utter’d that he would escape

The billows, even in the Gods’ despight.

Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp’d          610

His trident, and the huge Gyræan rock

Smiting indignant, dash’d it half away;

Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat

When, first, the brainsick fury seiz’d him, fell,

Bearing him with it down into the gulphs

Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died.

But thy own brother in his barks escaped

That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length,

He should have gain’d Malea’s craggy shore,

Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew          620

With many a groan far o’er the fishy Deep

To the land’s utmost point, where once his home

Thyestes had, but where Thyestes’ son

Dwelt then, Ægisthus. Easy lay his course

And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods,

The shifted wind soon bore them to their home.

He, high in exultation, trod the shore

That gave him birth, kiss’d it, and, at the sight,

The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear.

Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy,          630

One whom the shrewd Ægisthus had seduced

By promise of two golden talents, mark’d

His coming from a rock where he had watch’d

The year complete, lest, passing unperceived,

The King should reassert his right in arms.

Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord,

And He, incontinent, this project framed

Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts

Of all the people, from the rest he chose,

Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged          640

Diligent to prepare the festal board.

With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove

Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home

The unsuspicious King, amid the feast

Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.

Nor of thy brother’s train, nor of his train

Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all,

Welt’ring in blood together, there expired.

He ended, and his words beat on my heart

As they would break it. On the sands I sat          650

Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more.

But when I had in dust roll’d me, and wept

To full satiety, mine ear again

The oracle of Ocean thus address’d.

Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here

Longer, for remedy can none be found;

But quick arising, trial make, how best

Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again.

For either him still living thou shalt find,

Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain          660

The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb.

He ceas’d, and I, afflicted as I was,

Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh’d,

And in wing’d accents answer thus return’d.

Of these I am inform’d; but name the third

Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep

Is still detain’d; I dread, yet wish to hear.

So I; to whom thus Proteus in return.

Laertes’ son, the Lord of Ithaca—

Him in an island weeping I beheld,          670

Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint

Her guest, and from his native land withheld

By sad necessity; for ships well-oar’d,

Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid

Might speed him safely o’er the spacious flood.

But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate

Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet

In steed-fam’d Argos, but far hence the Gods

Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth’s

Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells,          680

The golden-hair’d, and there the human kind

Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there,

No biting winter, and no drenching show’r,

But zephyr always gently from the sea

Breathes on them to refresh the happy race)

For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands

Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove.

So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste,

I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet

Return’d, deep-musing as I went, and sad.          690

No sooner had I reach’d my ship beside

The ocean, and we all had supp’d, than night

From heav’n fell on us, and, at ease reposed

Along the margin of the sea, we slept.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy forth, drawing our galleys down

Into the sacred Deep, we rear’d again

The mast, unfurl’d the sail, and to our seats

On board returning, thresh’d the foamy flood.

Once more, at length, within the hallow’d stream          700

Of Ægypt mooring, on the shore I slew

Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus

Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared

To Agamemnon’s never-dying fame

A tomb, and finishing it, sail’d again

With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent

My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece.

But come—eleven days wait here, or twelve

A guest with me, when I will send thee hence

Nobly, and honour’d with illustrious gifts,          710

With polish’d chariot, with three princely steeds,

And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods

Libation pouring ever while thou liv’st

From that same cup, thou may’st remember me.

Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus.

Atrides, seek not to detain me here

Long time; for though contented I could sit

The year beside thee, nor regret my home

Or parents, (so delightful thy discourse

Sounds in my ear) yet, even now, I know,          720

That my attendants to the Pylian shore

Wish my return, whom thou thus long detain’st.

What boon soe’er thou giv’st me, be it such

As I may treasur’d keep; but horses none

Take I to Ithaca; them rather far

Keep thou, for thy own glory. Thou art Lord

Of an extended plain, where copious springs

The lotus, herbage of all savours, wheat,

Pulse, and white barley of luxuriant growth.

But Ithaca no level champaign owns,          730

A nursery of goats, and yet a land

Fairer than even pastures to the eye.

No sea-encircled isle of ours affords

Smooth course commodious and expanse of meads,

But my own Ithaca transcends them all!

He said; the Hero Menelaus smiled,

And stroaking tenderly his cheek, replied.

Dear youth! thy speech proclaims thy noble blood.

I can with ease supply thee from within

With what shall suit thee better, and the gift          740

Of all that I possess which most excels

In beauty, and the noblest shall be thine.

I give thee, wrought elaborate, a cup

Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.

It is the work of Vulcan, which to me

The Hero Phædimus imparted, King

Of the Sidonians, when on my return

His house received me. That shall be thy own.

Thus they conferr’d; and now the busy train

Of menials culinary,[18] at the gate          750

Enter’d of Menelaus, Chief renown’d;

They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine,

While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound,

Came charg’d with bread. Thus busy they prepared

A banquet in the mansion of the King.

Meantime, before Ulysses’ palace gate

The suitors sported with the quoit and spear

On the smooth area, customary scene

Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.

There sat Antinoüs, and the godlike youth          760

Eurymachus, superior to the rest

And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius’ son

Noëmon drawing nigh, with anxious mien

Question’d Antinoüs, and thus began.

Know we, Antinoüs! or know we not,

When to expect Telemachus at home

Again from Pylus? in my ship he went,

Which now I need, that I may cross the sea

To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed

Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet          770

Unbroken, but of which I purpose one

To ferry thence, and break him into use.

He spake, whom they astonish’d heard; for him

They deem’d not to Nelëian Pylus gone,

But haply into his own fields, his flocks

To visit, or the steward of his swine.

Then thus, Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, spake.

Say true. When sail’d he forth? of all our youth,

Whom chose he for his followers? his own train

Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow’r to effect          780

This also? Tell me too, for I would learn—

Took he perforce thy sable bark away,

Or gav’st it to him at his first demand?

To whom Noëmon, Phronius’ son, replied.

I gave it voluntary; what could’st thou,

Should such a prince petition for thy bark

In such distress? Hard were it to refuse.

Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves)

Attend him forth; and with them I observed

Mentor embarking, ruler o’er them all,          790

Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem’d.

But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn

I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here,

Whom shipp’d for Pylus I had seen before.

He ceas’d; and to his father’s house return’d;

They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime

Finish’d, the suitors on their seats reposed,

To whom Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, next,

Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged

His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash’d fire.          800

Ye Gods, a proud exploit is here atchieved,

This voyage of Telemachus, by us

Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy

In downright opposition to us all,

Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band

Selected from our bravest youth, is gone.

He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow’r

Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects!

But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers,

That, watching his return within the streights          810

Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca,

I may surprise him; so shall he have sail’d

To seek his Sire, fatally for himself.

He ceased and loud applause heard in reply,

With warm encouragement. Then, rising all,

Into Ulysses’ house at once they throng’d.

Nor was Penelope left uninformed

Long time of their clandestine plottings deep,

For herald Medon told her all, whose ear

Their councils caught while in the outer-court          820

He stood, and they that project framed within.

Swift to Penelope the tale he bore,

Who as he pass’d the gate, him thus address’d.

For what cause, herald! have the suitors sent

Thee foremost? Wou’d they that my maidens lay

Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them?

Here end their wooing! may they hence depart

Never, and may the banquet now prepared,

This banquet prove your last![19] who in such throngs

Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair          830

Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure,

When children, heard how gracious and how good

Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none

Of all his people, or in word or deed

Injuring, as great princes oft are wont,

By favour influenc’d now, now by disgust.

He no man wrong’d at any time; but plain

Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears,

Who sense have none of benefits conferr’d.

Then Medon answer’d thus, prudent, return’d.          840

Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst.

But greater far and heavier ills than this

The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound!

Their base desire and purpose are to slay

Telemachus on his return; for he,

To gather tidings of his Sire is gone

To Pylus, or to Sparta’s land divine.

He said; and where she stood, her trembling knees

Fail’d under her, and all her spirits went.

Speechless she long remain’d, tears filled her eyes,          850

And inarticulate in its passage died

Her utt’rance, till at last with pain she spake.

Herald! why went my son? he hath no need

On board swift ships to ride, which are to man

His steeds that bear him over seas remote.

Went he, that, with himself, his very name

Might perish from among mankind for ever?

Then answer, thus, Medon the wise return’d.

I know not whether him some God impell’d

Or his own heart to Pylus, there to hear          860

News of his Sire’s return, or by what fate

At least he died, if he return no more.

He said, and traversing Ulysses’ courts,

Departed; she with heart consuming woe

O’erwhelm’d, no longer could endure to take

Repose on any of her num’rous seats,

But on the threshold of her chamber-door

Lamenting sat, while all her female train

Around her moan’d, the antient and the young,

Whom, sobbing, thus Penelope bespake.          870

Hear me, ye maidens! for of women born

Coeval with me, none hath e’er received

Such plenteous sorrow from the Gods as I,

Who first my noble husband lost, endued

With courage lion-like, of all the Greeks

The Chief with ev’ry virtue most adorn’d,

A prince all-excellent, whose glorious praise

Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused.

And now, my darling son,—him storms have snatch’d

Far hence inglorious, and I knew it not.          880

Ah treach’rous servants! conscious as ye were

Of his design, not one of you the thought

Conceived to wake me when he went on board.

For had but the report once reach’d my ear,

He either had not gone (how much soe’er

He wish’d to leave me) or had left me dead.

But haste ye,—bid my antient servant come,

Dolion, whom (when I left my father’s house

He gave me, and whose office is to attend

My num’rous garden-plants) that he may seek          890

At once Laertes, and may tell him all,

Who may contrive some remedy, perchance,

Or fit expedient, and shall come abroad

To weep before the men who wish to slay

Even the prince, godlike Ulysses’ son.

Then thus the gentle Euryclea spake,

Nurse of Telemachus. Alas! my Queen!

Slay me, or spare, deal with me as thou wilt,

I will confess the truth. I knew it all.

I gave him all that he required from me.          900

Both wine and bread, and, at his bidding, swore

To tell thee nought in twelve whole days to come,

Or till, enquiry made, thou should’st thyself

Learn his departure, lest thou should’st impair

Thy lovely features with excess of grief.

But lave thyself, and, fresh attired, ascend

To thy own chamber, there, with all thy train,

To worship Pallas, who shall save, thenceforth,

Thy son from death, what ills soe’er he meet.

Add not fresh sorrows to the present woes          910

Of the old King, for I believe not yet

Arcesias’ race entirely by the Gods

Renounced, but trust that there shall still be found

Among them, who shall dwell in royal state,

And reap the fruits of fertile fields remote.

So saying, she hush’d her sorrow, and her eyes

No longer stream’d. Then, bathed and fresh attired,

Penelope ascended with her train

The upper palace, and a basket stored

With hallow’d cakes off’ring, to Pallas pray’d.          920

Hear matchless daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d!

If ever wise Ulysses offer’d here

The thighs of fatted kine or sheep to thee,

Now mindful of his piety, preserve

His darling son, and frustrate with a frown

The cruelty of these imperious guests!

She said, and wept aloud, whose earnest suit

Pallas received. And now the spacious hall

And gloomy passages with tumult rang

And clamour of that throng, when thus, a youth,          930

Insolent as his fellows, dared to speak.

Much woo’d and long, the Queen at length prepares

To chuse another mate,[20] and nought suspects

The bloody death to which her son is doom’d.

So he; but they, meantime, themselves remain’d

Untaught, what course the dread concern elsewhere

Had taken, whom Antinoüs thus address’d.

Sirs! one and all, I counsel you, beware

Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one

O’erhearing you, report your words within.          940

No—rather thus, in silence, let us move

To an exploit so pleasant to us all.

He said, and twenty chose, the bravest there,

With whom he sought the galley on the shore,

Which drawing down into the deep, they placed

The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next,

Each oar in order to its proper groove,

Unfurl’d and spread their canvas to the gale.

Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms,

And soon as in deep water they had moor’d          950

The ship, themselves embarking, supp’d on board,

And watch’d impatient for the dusk of eve.

But when Penelope, the palace stairs

Remounting, had her upper chamber reach’d,

There, unrefresh’d with either food or wine,

She lay’d her down, her noble son the theme

Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape

His haughty foes, or perish by their hands.

Num’rous as are the lion’s thoughts, who sees,

Not without fear, a multitude with toils          960

Encircling him around, such num’rous thoughts

Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length

Invading her, she sank in soft repose.

Then Pallas, teeming with a new design,

Set forth an airy phantom in the form

Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave

Icarius, and Eumelus’ wedded wife

In Pheræ. Shaped like her the dream she sent

Into the mansion of the godlike Chief

Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate          970

The sighs and tears of sad Penelope.

Ent’ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt

Secured it, at her head the image stood,

And thus, in terms compassionate, began.

Sleep’st thou, distress’d Penelope? The Gods,

Happy in everlasting rest themselves,

Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold

Thy son again, who hath by no offence

Incurr’d at any time the wrath of heav’n.

To whom, sweet-slumb’ring in the shadowy gate          980

By which dreams pass, Penelope replied.

What cause, my sister, brings thee, who art seen

Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell’st remote?

And thou enjoin’st me a cessation too

From sorrows num’rous, and which, fretting, wear

My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost

With courage lion-like endow’d, a prince

All-excellent, whose never-dying praise

Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused;

And now my only son, new to the toils          990

And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught

The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone

Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more

Than for his Sire himself, and even shake

With terror, lest he perish by their hands

To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep;

For num’rous are his foes, and all intent

To slay him, ere he reach his home again.

Then answer thus the shadowy form return’d.

Take courage; suffer not excessive dread          1000

To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath

And guardian, one whom many wish their friend,

And ever at their side, knowing her pow’r,

Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs,

And I am here her harbinger, who speak

As thou hast heard by her own kind command.

Then thus Penelope the wise replied.

Oh! if thou art a goddess, and hast heard

A Goddess’ voice, rehearse to me the lot

Of that unhappy one, if yet he live          1010

Spectator of the cheerful beams of day,

Or if, already dead, he dwell below.

Whom answer’d thus the fleeting shadow vain.

I will not now inform thee if thy Lord

Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken.

So saying, her egress swift beside the bolt

She made, and melted into air. Upsprang

From sleep Icarius’ daughter, and her heart

Felt heal’d within her, by that dream distinct

Visited in the noiseless night serene.          1020

Meantime the suitors urged their wat’ry way,

To instant death devoting in their hearts

Telemachus. There is a rocky isle

In the mid sea, Samos the rude between

And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris.

It hath commodious havens, into which

A passage clear opens on either side,

And there the ambush’d Greeks his coming watch’d.

[9] Hesychius tells us, that the Greecians ornamented with much attention the front wall of their courts for the admiration of passengers.

[10] Οφθαλμῶν τε βολαι.

[11] Antilochus was his brother.

[12] The son of Aurora, who slew Antilochus, was Memnon.

[13] Because Pisistratus was born after Antilochus had sailed to Troy.

[14] Proteus

[15] Seals, or sea-calves.

[16] From the abruptness of this beginning, Virgil, probably, who has copied the story, took the hint of his admired exordium.

Nam quis te, juvenum confidentissime, nostras.

Egit adire domos.

[17] Son of Oïleus.

[18] Δαιτυμων—generally signifies the founder of a feast; but we are taught by Eustathius to understand by it, in this place, the persons employed in preparing it.

[19] This transition from the third to the second person belongs to the original, and is considered as a fine stroke of art in the poet, who represents Penelope in the warmth of her resentment, forgetting where she is, and addressing the suitors as if present.

[20] Mistaking, perhaps, the sound of her voice, and imagining that she sang.—Vide Barnes in loco.

end chapter

BOOK V

ARGUMENT

Mercury bears to Calypso a command from Jupiter that she dismiss Ulysses. She, after some remonstrances, promises obedience, and furnishes him with instruments and materials, with which he constructs a raft. He quits Calypso’s island; is persecuted by Neptune with dreadful tempests, but by the assistance of a sea nymph, after having lost his raft, is enabled to swim to Phæacia.

Aurora from beside her glorious mate

Tithonus now arose, light to dispense

Through earth and heav’n, when the assembled Gods

In council sat, o’er whom high-thund’ring Jove

Presided, mightiest of the Pow’rs above.

Amid them, Pallas on the num’rous woes

Descanted of Ulysses, whom she saw

With grief, still prison’d in Calypso’s isle.

Jove, Father, hear me, and ye other Pow’rs

Who live for ever, hear! Be never King          10

Henceforth to gracious acts inclined, humane,

Or righteous, but let ev’ry sceptred hand

Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,

Since none of all his people whom he sway’d

With such paternal gentleness and love

Remembers, now, divine Ulysses more.

He, in yon distant isle a suff’rer lies

Of hopeless sorrow, through constraint the guest

Still of the nymph Calypso, without means

Or pow’r to reach his native shores again,          20

Alike of gallant barks and friends depriv’d,

Who might conduct him o’er the spacious Deep.

Nor is this all, but enemies combine

To slay his son ere yet he can return

From Pylus, whither he hath gone to learn

There, or in Sparta, tidings of his Sire.

To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.

What word hath pass’d thy lips, daughter belov’d?

Hast thou not purpos’d that arriving soon

At home, Ulysses shall destroy his foes?          30

Guide thou, Telemachus, (for well thou canst)

That he may reach secure his native coast,

And that the suitors baffled may return.

He ceas’d, and thus to Hermes spake, his son.

Hermes! (for thou art herald of our will

At all times) to yon bright-hair’d nymph convey

Our fix’d resolve, that brave Ulysses thence

Depart, uncompanied by God or man.

Borne on a corded raft, and suff’ring woe

Extreme, he on the twentieth day shall reach,          40

Not sooner, Scherie the deep-soil’d, possess’d

By the Phæacians, kinsmen of the Gods.

They, as a God shall reverence the Chief,

And in a bark of theirs shall send him thence

To his own home, much treasure, brass and gold

And raiment giving him, to an amount

Surpassing all that, had he safe return’d,

He should by lot have shared of Ilium’s spoil.

Thus Fate appoints Ulysses to regain

His country, his own palace, and his friends.          50

He ended, nor the Argicide refused,

Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair,

Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound,

Which o’er the moist wave, rapid as the wind,

Bear him, and o’er th’ illimitable earth,

Then took his rod with which, at will, all eyes

He closes soft, or opes them wide again.

So arm’d, forth flew the valiant Argicide.

Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop’d

To Ocean, and the billows lightly skimm’d          60

In form a sew-mew, such as in the bays

Tremendous of the barren Deep her food

Seeking, dips oft in brine her ample wing.

In such disguise o’er many a wave he rode,

But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook

The azure Deep, and at the spacious grot,

Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived,

Found her within. A fire on all the hearth

Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent

Of smooth-split cedar and of cypress-wood          70

Odorous, burning, cheer’d the happy isle.

She, busied at the loom, and plying fast

Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice

Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side,

Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch

Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave.

There many a bird of broadest pinion built

Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw

Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores.

A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides          80

Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung

Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph

Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,

Stray’d all around, and ev’ry where appear’d

Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o’er

With violets; it was a scene to fill

A God from heav’n with wonder and delight.

Hermes, Heav’n’s messenger, admiring stood

That sight, and having all survey’d, at length

Enter’d the grotto; nor the lovely nymph          90

Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown

Each to the other the Immortals are,

How far soever sep’rate their abodes.

Yet found he not within the mighty Chief

Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore,

Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans

Of sad regret t’ afflict his breaking heart.

Looking continual o’er the barren Deep.

Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God

Question’d, from her resplendent throne august.          100

Hermes! possessor of the potent rod!

Who, though by me much reverenc’d and belov’d,

So seldom com’st, say, wherefore comest now?

Speak thy desire; I grant it, if thou ask

Things possible, and possible to me.

Stay not, but ent’ring farther, at my board

Due rites of hospitality receive.

So saying, the Goddess with ambrosial food

Her table cover’d, and with rosy juice

Nectareous charged the cup. Then ate and drank          110

The argicide and herald of the skies,

And in his soul with that repast divine

Refresh’d, his message to the nymph declared.

Questionest thou, O Goddess, me a God?

I tell thee truth, since such is thy demand.

Not willing, but by Jove constrain’d, I come.

For who would, voluntary, such a breadth

Enormous measure of the salt expanse,

Where city none is seen in which the Gods

Are served with chosen hecatombs and pray’r?          120

But no divinity may the designs

Elude, or controvert, of Jove supreme.

He saith, that here thou hold’st the most distrest

Of all those warriors who nine years assail’d

The city of Priam, and, (that city sack’d)

Departed in the tenth; but, going thence,

Offended Pallas, who with adverse winds

Opposed their voyage, and with boist’rous waves.

Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him

Billows and storms drove hither; Jove commands          130

That thou dismiss him hence without delay,

For fate ordains him not to perish here

From all his friends remote, but he is doom’d

To see them yet again, and to arrive

At his own palace in his native land.

He said; divine Calypso at the sound

Shudder’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

Ye are unjust, ye Gods, and envious past

All others, grudging if a Goddess take

A mortal man openly to her arms!          140

So, when the rosy-finger’d Morning chose

Orion, though ye live yourselves at ease,

Yet ye all envied her, until the chaste

Diana from her golden throne dispatch’d

A silent shaft, which slew him in Ortygia.

So, when the golden-tressed Ceres, urged

By passion, took Iäsion to her arms

In a thrice-labour’d fallow, not untaught

Was Jove that secret long, and, hearing it,

Indignant, slew him with his candent bolt.          150

So also, O ye Gods, ye envy me

The mortal man, my comfort. Him I saved

Myself, while solitary on his keel

He rode, for with his sulph’rous arrow Jove

Had cleft his bark amid the sable Deep.

Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him

Billows and storms drove hither, whom I lov’d

Sincere, and fondly destin’d to a life

Immortal, unobnoxious to decay.

But since no Deity may the designs          160

Elude or controvert of Jove supreme,

Hence with him o’er the barren Deep, if such

The Sov’reign’s will, and such his stern command.

But undismiss’d he goes by me, who ships

Myself well-oar’d and mariners have none

To send with him athwart the spacious flood;

Yet freely, readily, my best advice

I will afford him, that, escaping all

Danger, he may regain his native shore.

Then Hermes thus, the messenger of heav’n.          170

Act as thou say’st, fearing the frown of Jove,

Lest, if provoked, he spare not even thee.

So saying, the dauntless Argicide withdrew,

And she (Jove’s mandate heard) all-graceful went,

Seeking the brave Ulysses; on the shore

She found him seated; tears succeeding tears

Delug’d his eyes, while, hopeless of return,

Life’s precious hours to eating cares he gave

Continual, with the nymph now charm’d no more.

Yet, cold as she was am’rous, still he pass’d          180

His nights beside her in the hollow grot,

Constrain’d, and day by day the rocks among

Which lined the shore heart-broken sat, and oft

While wistfully he eyed the barren Deep,

Wept, groaned, desponded, sigh’d, and wept again.

Then, drawing near, thus spake the nymph divine.

Unhappy! weep not here, nor life consume

In anguish; go; thou hast my glad consent.

Arise to labour; hewing down the trunks

Of lofty trees, fashion them with the ax          190

To a broad raft, which closely floor’d above,

Shall hence convey thee o’er the gloomy Deep.

Bread, water, and the red grape’s cheering juice

Myself will put on board, which shall preserve

Thy life from famine; I will also give

New raiment for thy limbs, and will dispatch

Winds after thee to waft thee home unharm’d,

If such the pleasure of the Gods who dwell

In yonder boundless heav’n, superior far

To me, in knowledge and in skill to judge.          200

She ceas’d; but horror at that sound the heart

Chill’d of Ulysses, and in accents wing’d

With wonder, thus the noble Chief replied.

Ah! other thoughts than of my safe return

Employ thee, Goddess, now, who bid’st me pass

The perilous gulph of Ocean on a raft,

That wild expanse terrible, which even ships

Pass not, though form’d to cleave their way with ease,

And joyful in propitious winds from Jove.

No—let me never, in despight of thee,          210

Embark on board a raft, nor till thou swear,

O Goddess! the inviolable oath,

That future mischief thou intend’st me none.

He said; Calypso, beauteous Goddess, smiled,

And, while she spake, stroaking his cheek, replied.

Thou dost asperse me rudely, and excuse

Of ignorance hast none, far better taught;

What words were these? How could’st thou thus reply?

Now hear me Earth, and the wide Heav’n above!

Hear, too, ye waters of the Stygian stream          220

Under the earth (by which the blessed Gods

Swear trembling, and revere the awful oath!)

That future mischief I intend thee none.

No, my designs concerning thee are such

As, in an exigence resembling thine,

Myself, most sure, should for myself conceive.

I have a mind more equal, not of steel

My heart is form’d, but much to pity inclined.

So saying, the lovely Goddess with swift pace

Led on, whose footsteps he as swift pursued.          230

Within the vaulted cavern they arrived,

The Goddess and the man; on the same throne

Ulysses sat, whence Hermes had aris’n,

And viands of all kinds, such as sustain

The life of mortal man, Calypso placed

Before him, both for bev’rage and for food.

She opposite to the illustrious Chief

Reposed, by her attendant maidens served

With nectar and ambrosia. They their hands

Stretch’d forth together to the ready feast,          240

And when nor hunger more nor thirst remain’d

Unsated, thus the beauteous nymph began.

Laertes’ noble son, for wisdom famed

And artifice! oh canst thou thus resolve

To seek, incontinent, thy native shores?

I pardon thee. Farewell! but could’st thou guess

The woes which fate ordains thee to endure

Ere yet thou reach thy country, well-content

Here to inhabit, thou would’st keep my grot

And be immortal, howsoe’er thy wife          250

Engage thy ev’ry wish day after day.

Yet can I not in stature or in form

Myself suspect inferior aught to her,

Since competition cannot be between

Mere mortal beauties, and a form divine.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Awful Divinity! be not incensed.

I know that my Penelope in form

And stature altogether yields to thee,

For she is mortal, and immortal thou,          260

From age exempt; yet not the less I wish

My home, and languish daily to return.

But should some God amid the sable Deep

Dash me again into a wreck, my soul

Shall bear that also; for, by practice taught,

I have learned patience, having much endured

By tempest and in battle both. Come then

This evil also! I am well prepared.

He ended, and the sun sinking, resign’d

The earth to darkness. Then in a recess          270

Interior of the cavern, side by side

Reposed, they took their amorous delight.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy forth, Ulysses then in haste

Put on his vest and mantle, and, the nymph

Her snowy vesture of transparent woof,

Graceful, redundant; to her waist she bound

Her golden zone, and veil’d her beauteous head,

Then, musing, plann’d the noble Chief’s return.

She gave him, fitted to the grasp, an ax          280

Of iron, pond’rous, double-edg’d, with haft

Of olive-wood, inserted firm, and wrought

With curious art. Then, placing in his hand

A polish’d adze, she led, herself, the way

To her isles’ utmost verge, where tallest trees

But dry long since and sapless stood, which best

Might serve his purposes, as buoyant most,

The alder, poplar, and cloud-piercing fir.

To that tall grove she led and left him there,

Seeking her grot again. Then slept not He,          290

But, swinging with both hands the ax, his task

Soon finish’d; trees full twenty to the ground

He cast, which, dext’rous, with his adze he smooth’d,

The knotted surface chipping by a line.

Meantime the lovely Goddess to his aid

Sharp augres brought, with which he bored the beams,

Then, side by side placing them, fitted each

To other, and with long cramps join’d them all.

Broad as an artist, skill’d in naval works,

The bottom of a ship of burthen spreads,          300

Such breadth Ulysses to his raft assign’d.

He deck’d her over with long planks, upborne

On massy beams; He made the mast, to which

He added suitable the yard;—he framed

Rudder and helm to regulate her course,

With wicker-work he border’d all her length

For safety, and much ballast stow’d within.

Meantime, Calypso brought him for a sail

Fittest materials, which he also shaped,

And to his sail due furniture annex’d          310

Of cordage strong, foot-ropes, and ropes aloft,

Then heav’d her down with levers to the Deep.

He finish’d all his work on the fourth day,

And on the fifth, Calypso, nymph divine,

Dismiss’d him from her isle, but laved him first,

And cloath’d him in sweet-scented garments new.

Two skins the Goddess also placed on board,

One charg’d with crimson wine, and ampler one

With water, nor a bag with food replete

Forgot, nutritious, grateful to the taste,          320

Nor yet, her latest gift, a gentle gale

And manageable, which Ulysses spread,

Exulting, all his canvas to receive.

Beside the helm he sat, steering expert,

Nor sleep fell ever on his eyes that watch’d

Intent the Pleiads, tardy in decline

Bootes, and the Bear, call’d else the Wain,

Which, in his polar prison circling, looks

Direct toward Orion, and alone

Of these sinks never to the briny Deep.          330

That star the lovely Goddess bade him hold

Continual on his left through all his course.

Ten days and sev’n, he, navigating, cleav’d

The brine, and on the eighteenth day, at length,

The shadowy mountains of Phæacia’s land

Descried, where nearest to his course it lay

Like a broad buckler on the waves afloat.

But Neptune, now returning from the land

Of Ethiopia, mark’d him on his raft

Skimming the billows, from the mountain-tops          340

Of distant Solyma.[21] With tenfold wrath

Inflamed that sight he view’d, his brows he shook,

And thus within himself, indignant, spake.

So then—new counsels in the skies, it seems,

Propitious to Ulysses, have prevail’d

Since Æthiopia hath been my abode.

He sees Phæacia nigh, where he must leap

The bound’ry of his woes; but ere that hour

Arrive, I will ensure him many a groan.

So saying, he grasp’d his trident, gather’d dense          350

The clouds and troubled ocean; ev’ry storm

From ev’ry point he summon’d, earth and sea

Darkening, and the night fell black from heav’n.

The East, the South, the heavy-blowing West,

And the cold North-wind clear, assail’d at once

His raft, and heaved on high the billowy flood.

All hope, all courage, in that moment, lost,

The Hero thus within himself complain’d.

Wretch that I am, what destiny at last

Attends me! much I fear the Goddess’ words          360

All true, which threaten’d me with num’rous ills

On the wide sea, ere I should reach my home.

Behold them all fulfill’d! with what a storm

Jove hangs the heav’ns, and agitates the Deep!

The winds combined beat on me. Now I sink!

Thrice blest, and more than thrice, Achaia’s sons

At Ilium slain for the Atridæ’ sake!

Ah, would to heav’n that, dying, I had felt

That day the stroke of fate, when me the dead

Achilles guarding, with a thousand spears          370

Troy’s furious host assail’d! Funereal rites

I then had shared, and praise from ev’ry Greek,

Whom now the most inglorious death awaits.

While thus he spake, a billow on his head

Bursting impetuous, whirl’d the raft around,

And, dashing from his grasp the helm, himself

Plunged far remote. Then came a sudden gust

Of mingling winds, that in the middle snapp’d

His mast, and, hurried o’er the waves afar,

Both sail and sail-yard fell into the flood.          380

Long time submerged he lay, nor could with ease

The violence of that dread shock surmount,

Or rise to air again, so burthensome

His drench’d apparel proved; but, at the last,

He rose, and, rising, sputter’d from his lips

The brine that trickled copious from his brows.

Nor, harass’d as he was, resign’d he yet

His raft, but buffetting the waves aside

With desp’rate efforts, seized it, and again

Fast seated on the middle deck, escaped.          390

Then roll’d the raft at random in the flood,

Wallowing unwieldy, toss’d from wave to wave.

As when in autumn, Boreas o’er the plain

Conglomerated thorns before him drives,

They, tangled, to each other close adhere,

So her the winds drove wild about the Deep.

By turns the South consign’d her to be sport

For the rude North-wind, and, by turns, the East

Yielded her to the worrying West a prey.

But Cadmus’ beauteous daughter (Ino once,          400

Now named Leucothea) saw him; mortal erst

Was she, and trod the earth,[22] but nymph become

Of Ocean since, in honours shares divine.

She mark’d his anguish, and, while toss’d he roam’d,

Pitied Ulysses; from the flood, in form

A cormorant, she flew, and on the raft

Close-corded perching, thus the Chief address’d.

Alas! unhappy! how hast thou incensed

So terribly the Shaker of the shores,

That he pursues thee with such num’rous ills?          410

Sink thee he cannot, wish it as he may.

Thus do (for I account thee not unwise)

Thy garments putting off, let drive thy raft

As the winds will, then, swimming, strive to reach

Phæacia, where thy doom is to escape.

Take this. This ribbon bind beneath thy breast,

Celestial texture. Thenceforth ev’ry fear

Of death dismiss, and, laying once thy hands

On the firm continent, unbind the zone,

Which thou shalt cast far distant from the shore          420

Into the Deep, turning thy face away.

So saying, the Goddess gave into his hand

The wond’rous zone, and, cormorant in form,

Plunging herself into the waves again

Headlong, was hidden by the closing flood.

But still Ulysses sat perplex’d, and thus

The toil-enduring Hero reason’d sad.

Alas! I tremble lest some God design

T’ ensnare me yet, bidding me quit the raft.

But let me well beware how I obey          430

Too soon that precept, for I saw the land

Of my foretold deliv’rance far remote.

Thus, therefore, will I do, for such appears

My wiser course. So long as yet the planks

Mutual adhere, continuing on board

My raft, I will endure whatever woes,

But when the waves shall shatter it, I will swim,

My sole resource then left. While thus he mused,

Neptune a billow of enormous bulk

Hollow’d into an overwhelming arch          440

On high up-heaving, smote him. As the wind

Tempestuous, falling on some stubble-heap,

The arid straws dissipates ev’ry way,

So flew the timbers. He, a single beam

Bestriding, oar’d it onward with his feet,

As he had urged an horse. His raiment, then,

Gift of Calypso, putting off, he bound

His girdle on, and prone into the sea

With wide-spread palms prepar’d for swimming, fell.

Shore-shaker Neptune noted him; he shook          450

His awful brows, and in his heart he said,

Thus, suff’ring many mis’ries roam the flood,

Till thou shalt mingle with a race of men

Heav’n’s special favourites; yet even there

Fear not that thou shalt feel thy sorrows light.

He said, and scourging his bright steeds, arrived

At Ægæ, where his glorious palace stands.

But other thoughts Minerva’s mind employ’d

Jove’s daughter; ev’ry wind binding beside,

She lull’d them, and enjoin’d them all to sleep,          460

But roused swift Boreas, and the billows broke

Before Ulysses, that, deliver’d safe

From a dire death, the noble Chief might mix

With maritime Phæacia’s sons renown’d.

Two nights he wander’d, and two days, the flood

Tempestuous, death expecting ev’ry hour;

But when Aurora, radiant-hair’d, had brought

The third day to a close, then ceas’d the wind,

And breathless came a calm; he, nigh at hand

The shore beheld, darting acute his sight          470

Toward it, from a billow’s tow’ring top.

Precious as to his children seems the life

Of some fond father through disease long time

And pain stretch’d languid on his couch, the prey

Of some vindictive Pow’r, but now, at last,

By gracious heav’n to ease and health restored,

So grateful to Ulysses’ sight appear’d

Forests and hills. Impatient with his feet

To press the shore, he swam; but when within

Such distance as a shout may fly, he came,          480

The thunder of the sea against the rocks

Then smote his ear; for hoarse the billows roar’d

On the firm land, belch’d horrible abroad,

And the salt spray dimm’d all things to his view.

For neither port for ships nor shelt’ring cove

Was there, but the rude coast a headland bluff

Presented, rocks and craggy masses huge.

Then, hope and strength exhausted both, deep-groan’d

The Chief, and in his noble heart complain’d.

Alas! though Jove hath given me to behold,          490

Unhoped, the land again, and I have pass’d,

Furrowing my way, these num’rous waves, there seems

No egress from the hoary flood for me.

Sharp stones hem in the waters; wild the surge

Raves ev’ry where; and smooth the rocks arise;

Deep also is the shore, on which my feet

No standing gain, or chance of safe escape.

What if some billow catch me from the Deep

Emerging, and against the pointed rocks

Dash me conflicting with its force in vain?          500

But should I, swimming, trace the coast in search

Of sloping beach, haven or shelter’d creek,

I fear lest, groaning, I be snatch’d again

By stormy gusts into the fishy Deep,

Or lest some monster of the flood receive

Command to seize me, of the many such

By the illustrious Amphitrite bred;

For that the mighty Shaker of the shores

Hates me implacable, too well I know.

While such discourse within himself he held,          510

A huge wave heav’d him on the rugged coast,

Where flay’d his flesh had been, and all his bones

Broken together, but for the infused

Good counsel of Minerva azure-eyed.

With both hands suddenly he seized the rock,

And, groaning, clench’d it till the billow pass’d.

So baffled he that wave; but yet again

The refluent flood rush’d on him, and with force

Resistless dash’d him far into the sea.

As pebbles to the hollow polypus          520

Extracted from his stony bed, adhere,

So he, the rough rocks clasping, stripp’d his hands

Raw, and the billows now whelm’d him again.

Then had the hapless Hero premature

Perish’d, but for sagacity inspired

By Pallas azure-eyed. Forth from the waves

Emerging, where the surf burst on the rocks,

He coasted (looking landward as he swam)

The shore, with hope of port or level beach.

But when, still swimming, to the mouth he came          530

Of a smooth-sliding river, there he deem’d

Safest th’ ascent, for it was undeform’d

By rocks, and shelter’d close from ev’ry wind.

He felt the current, and thus, ardent, pray’d.

O hear, whate’er thy name, Sov’reign, who rul’st

This river! at whose mouth, from all the threats

Of Neptune ’scap’d, with rapture I arrive.

Even the Immortal Gods the wand’rer’s pray’r

Respect, and such am I, who reach, at length,

Thy stream, and clasp thy knees, after long toil.          540

I am thy suppliant. Oh King! pity me.

He said; the river God at once repress’d

His current, and it ceas’d; smooth he prepared

The way before Ulysses, and the land

Vouchsafed him easy at his channel’s mouth.

There, once again he bent for ease his limbs

Both arms and knees, in conflict with the floods

Exhausted; swoln his body was all o’er,

And from his mouth and nostrils stream’d the brine.

Breathless and speechless, and of life well nigh          550

Bereft he lay, through dreadful toil immense.

But when, revived, his dissipated pow’rs

He recollected, loosing from beneath

His breast the zone divine, he cast it far

Into the brackish stream, and a huge wave

Returning bore it downward to the sea,

Where Ino caught it. Then, the river’s brink

Abandoning, among the rushes prone

He lay, kiss’d oft the soil, and sighing, said,

Ah me! what suff’rings must I now sustain,          560

What doom, at last, awaits me? If I watch

This woeful night, here, at the river’s side,

What hope but that the frost and copious dews,

Weak as I am, my remnant small of life

Shall quite extinguish, and the chilly air

Breath’d from the river at the dawn of day?

But if, ascending this declivity

I gain the woods, and in some thicket sleep,

(If sleep indeed can find me overtoil’d

And cold-benumb’d) then I have cause to fear          570

Lest I be torn by wild beasts, and devour’d.

Long time he mused, but, at the last, his course

Bent to the woods, which not remote he saw

From the sea-brink, conspicuous on a hill.

Arrived, between two neighbour shrubs he crept,

Both olives, this the fruitful, that the wild;

A covert, which nor rough winds blowing moist

Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun

Smite through it, or unceasing show’rs pervade,

So thick a roof the ample branches form’d          580

Close interwoven; under these the Chief

Retiring, with industrious hands a bed

Collected broad of leaves, which there he found

Abundant strew’d, such store as had sufficed

Two travellers or three for cov’ring warm,

Though winter’s roughest blasts had rag’d the while.

That bed with joy the suff’ring Chief renown’d

Contemplated, and occupying soon

The middle space, hillock’d it high with leaves.

As when some swain hath hidden deep his torch          590

Beneath the embers, at the verge extreme

Of all his farm, where, having neighbours none,

He saves a seed or two of future flame

Alive, doom’d else to fetch it from afar,

So with dry leaves Ulysses overspread

His body, on whose eyes Minerva pour’d

The balm of sleep copious, that he might taste

Repose again, after long toil severe.

[21] The Solymi were the ancient inhabitants of Pisidia in Asia-Minor.

[22] The Translator finding himself free to chuse between ἀυδηέσσα and ἠδηέσσα, has preferred the latter.

end chapter

BOOK VI

ARGUMENT

Minerva designing an interview between the daughter of Alcinoüs and Ulysses, admonishes her in a dream to carry down her clothes to the river, that she may wash them, and make them ready for her approaching nuptials. That task performed, the Princess and her train amuse themselves with play; by accident they awake Ulysses; he comes forth from the wood, and applies himself with much address to Nausicaa, who compassionating his distressed condition, and being much affected by the dignity of his appearance, interests herself in his favour, and conducts him to the city.

There then the noble suff’rer lay, by sleep

Oppress’d and labour; meantime, Pallas sought

The populous city of Phæacia’s sons.

They, in old time, in Hypereia dwelt

The spacious, neighbours of a giant race

The haughty Cyclops, who, endued with pow’r

Superior, troubled them with frequent wrongs.

Godlike Nausithoüs then arose, who thence

To Scheria led them, from all nations versed

In arts of cultivated life, remote;          10

With bulwarks strong their city he enclosed,

Built houses for them, temples to the Gods,

And gave to each a portion of the soil.

But he, already by decree of fate

Had journey’d to the shades, and in his stead

Alcinoüs, by the Gods instructed, reign’d.

To his abode Minerva azure-eyed

Repair’d, neglecting nought which might advance

Magnanimous Ulysses’ safe return.

She sought the sumptuous chamber where, in form          20

And feature perfect as the Gods, the young

Nausicaa, daughter of the King, reposed.

Fast by the pillars of the portal lay

Two damsels, one on either side, adorn’d

By all the Graces, and the doors were shut.

Soft as a breathing air, she stole toward

The royal virgin’s couch, and at her head

Standing, address’d her. Daughter she appear’d

Of Dymas, famed for maritime exploits,

Her friend and her coeval; so disguised          30

Cærulean-eyed Minerva thus began.

Nausicaa! wherefore hath thy mother borne

A child so negligent? Thy garments share,

Thy most magnificent, no thought of thine.

Yet thou must marry soon, and must provide

Robes for thyself, and for thy nuptial train.

Thy fame, on these concerns, and honour stand;

These managed well, thy parents shall rejoice.

The dawn appearing, let us to the place

Of washing, where thy work-mate I will be          40

For speedier riddance of thy task, since soon

The days of thy virginity shall end;

For thou art woo’d already by the prime

Of all Phæacia, country of thy birth.

Come then—solicit at the dawn of day

Thy royal father, that he send thee forth

With mules and carriage for conveyance hence

Of thy best robes, thy mantles and thy zones.

Thus, more commodiously thou shalt perform

The journey, for the cisterns lie remote.          50

So saying, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,

Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat

Eternal of the Gods, which never storms

Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm

The expanse and cloudless shines with purest day.

There the inhabitants divine rejoice

For ever, (and her admonition giv’n)

Cærulean-eyed Minerva thither flew.

Now came Aurora bright-enthroned, whose rays

Awaken’d fair Nausicaa; she her dream          60

Remember’d wond’ring, and her parents sought

Anxious to tell them. Them she found within.

Beside the hearth her royal mother sat,

Spinning soft fleeces with sea-purple dyed

Among her menial maidens, but she met

Her father, whom the Nobles of the land

Had summon’d, issuing abroad to join

The illustrious Chiefs in council. At his side

She stood, and thus her filial suit preferr’d.

Sir![23] wilt thou lend me of the royal wains          70

A sumpter-carriage? for I wish to bear

My costly cloaths but sullied and unfit

For use, at present, to the river side.

It is but seemly that thou should’st repair

Thyself to consultation with the Chiefs

Of all Phæacia, clad in pure attire;

And my own brothers five, who dwell at home,

Two wedded, and the rest of age to wed,

Are all desirous, when they dance, to wear

Raiment new bleach’d; all which is my concern.          80

So spake Nausicaa; for she dared not name

Her own glad nuptials to her father’s ear,

Who, conscious yet of all her drift, replied.

I grudge thee neither mules, my child, nor aught

That thou canst ask beside. Go, and my train

Shall furnish thee a sumpter-carriage forth

High-built, strong-wheel’d, and of capacious size.

So saying, he issued his command, whom quick

His grooms obey’d. They in the court prepared

The sumpter-carriage, and adjoin’d the mules.          90

And now the virgin from her chamber, charged

With raiment, came, which on the car she placed,

And in the carriage-chest, meantime, the Queen,

Her mother, viands of all kinds disposed,

And fill’d a skin with wine. Nausicaa rose

Into her seat; but, ere she went, received

A golden cruse of oil from the Queen’s hand

For unction of herself, and of her maids.

Then, seizing scourge and reins, she lash’d the mules.

They trampled loud the soil, straining to draw          100

Herself with all her vesture; nor alone

She went, but follow’d by her virgin train.

At the delightful rivulet arrived

Where those perennial cisterns were prepared

With purest crystal of the fountain fed

Profuse, sufficient for the deepest stains,

Loosing the mules, they drove them forth to browze

On the sweet herb beside the dimpled flood.

The carriage, next, light’ning, they bore in hand

The garments down to the unsullied wave,          110

And thrust them heap’d into the pools, their task

Dispatching brisk, and with an emulous haste.

When they had all purified, and no spot

Could now be seen, or blemish more, they spread

The raiment orderly along the beach

Where dashing tides had cleansed the pebbles most,

And laving, next, and smoothing o’er with oil

Their limbs, all seated on the river’s bank,

They took repast, leaving the garments, stretch’d

In noon-day fervour of the sun, to dry.          120

Their hunger satisfied, at once arose

The mistress and her train, and putting off

Their head-attire, play’d wanton with the ball,

The princess singing to her maids the while.

Such as shaft-arm’d Diana roams the hills,

Täygetus sky-capt, or Erymanth,

The wild boar chasing, or fleet-footed hind,

All joy; the rural nymphs, daughters of Jove,

Sport with her, and Latona’s heart exults;

She high her graceful head above the rest          130

And features lifts divine, though all be fair,

With ease distinguishable from them all;

So, all her train, she, virgin pure, surpass’d.

But when the hour of her departure thence

Approach’d (the mules now yoked again, and all

Her elegant apparel folded neat)

Minerva azure-eyed mused how to wake

Ulysses, that he might behold the fair

Virgin, his destin’d guide into the town.

The Princess, then, casting the ball toward          140

A maiden of her train, erroneous threw

And plunged it deep into the dimpling stream.

All shrieked; Ulysses at the sound awoke,

And, sitting, meditated thus the cause.

Ah me! what mortal race inhabit here?

Rude are they, contumacious and unjust?

Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?

So shrill the cry and feminine of nymphs

Fills all the air around, such as frequent

The hills, clear fountains, and herbaceous meads.          150

Is this a neighbourhood of men endued

With voice articulate? But what avails

To ask; I will myself go forth and see.

So saying, divine Ulysses from beneath

His thicket crept, and from the leafy wood

A spreading branch pluck’d forcibly, design’d

A decent skreen effectual, held before.

So forth he went, as goes the lion forth,

The mountain-lion, conscious of his strength,

Whom winds have vex’d and rains; fire fills his eyes,          160

And whether herds or flocks, or woodland deer

He find, he rends them, and, adust for blood,

Abstains not even from the guarded fold,

Such sure to seem in virgin eyes, the Chief,

All naked as he was, left his retreat,

Reluctant, by necessity constrain’d.

Him foul with sea foam horror-struck they view’d,

And o’er the jutting shores fled all dispersed.

Nausicaa alone fled not; for her

Pallas courageous made, and from her limbs,          170

By pow’r divine, all tremour took away.

Firm she expected him; he doubtful stood,

Or to implore the lovely maid, her knees

Embracing, or aloof standing, to ask

In gentle terms discrete the gift of cloaths,

And guidance to the city where she dwelt.

Him so deliberating, most, at length,

This counsel pleas’d; in suppliant terms aloof

To sue to her, lest if he clasp’d her knees,

The virgin should that bolder course resent.          180

Then gentle, thus, and well-advised he spake.

Oh Queen! thy earnest suppliant I approach.

Art thou some Goddess, or of mortal race?

For if some Goddess, and from heaven arrived,

Diana, then, daughter of mighty Jove

I deem thee most, for such as hers appear

Thy form, thy stature, and thy air divine.

But if, of mortal race, thou dwell below,

Thrice happy then, thy parents I account,

And happy thrice thy brethren. Ah! the joy          190

Which always for thy sake, their bosoms fill,

When thee they view, all lovely as thou art,

Ent’ring majestic on the graceful dance.

But him beyond all others blest I deem,

The youth, who, wealthier than his rich compeers,

Shall win and lead thee to his honour’d home.

For never with these eyes a mortal form

Beheld I comparable aught to thine,

In man or woman. Wonder-wrapt I gaze.

Such erst, in Delos, I beheld a palm          200

Beside the altar of Apollo, tall,

And growing still; (for thither too I sail’d,

And num’rous were my followers in a voyage

Ordain’d my ruin) and as then I view’d

That palm long time amazed, for never grew

So strait a shaft, so lovely from the ground,

So, Princess! thee with wonder I behold,

Charm’d into fixt astonishment, by awe

Alone forbidden to embrace thy knees,

For I am one on whom much woe hath fall’n.          210

Yesterday I escaped (the twentieth day

Of my distress by sea) the dreary Deep;

For, all those days, the waves and rapid storms

Bore me along, impetuous from the isle

Ogygia; till at length the will of heav’n

Cast me, that I might also here sustain

Affliction on your shore; for rest, I think,

Is not for me. No. The Immortal Gods

Have much to accomplish ere that day arrive.

But, oh Queen, pity me! who after long          220

Calamities endured, of all who live

Thee first approach, nor mortal know beside

Of the inhabitants of all the land.

Shew me your city; give me, although coarse,

Some cov’ring (if coarse cov’ring thou canst give)

And may the Gods thy largest wishes grant,

House, husband, concord! for of all the gifts

Of heav’n, more precious none I deem, than peace

’Twixt wedded pair, and union undissolved;

Envy torments their enemies, but joy          230

Fills ev’ry virtuous breast, and most their own.

To whom Nausicaa the fair replied.

Since, stranger! neither base by birth thou seem’st,

Nor unintelligent, (but Jove, the King

Olympian, gives to good and bad alike

Prosperity according to his will,

And grief to thee, which thou must patient bear,)

Now, therefore, at our land and city arrived,

Nor garment thou shalt want, nor aught beside

Due to a suppliant guest like thee forlorn.          240

I will both show thee where our city stands,

And who dwell here. Phæacia’s sons possess

This land; but I am daughter of their King

The brave Alcinoüs, on whose sway depends

For strength and wealth the whole Phæacian race.

She said, and to her beauteous maidens gave

Instant commandment—My attendants, stay!

Why flee ye thus, and whither, from the sight

Of a mere mortal? Seems he in your eyes

Some enemy of ours? The heart beats not,          250

Nor shall it beat hereafter, which shall come

An enemy to the Phæacian shores,

So dear to the immortal Gods are we.

Remote, amid the billowy Deep, we hold

Our dwelling, utmost of all human-kind,

And free from mixture with a foreign race.

This man, a miserable wand’rer comes,

Whom we are bound to cherish, for the poor

And stranger are from Jove, and trivial gifts

To such are welcome. Bring ye therefore food          260

And wine, my maidens, for the guest’s regale,

And lave him where the stream is shelter’d most.

She spake; they stood, and by each other’s words

Encouraged, placed Ulysses where the bank

O’erhung the stream, as fair Nausicaa bade,

Daughter of King Alcinoüs the renown’d.

Apparel also at his side they spread,

Mantle and vest, and, next, the limpid oil

Presenting to him in the golden cruse,

Exhorted him to bathe in the clear stream.          270

Ulysses then the maidens thus bespake.

Ye maidens, stand apart, that I may cleanse,

Myself, my shoulders from the briny surf,

And give them oil which they have wanted long.

But in your presence I bathe not, ashamed

To show myself uncloath’d to female eyes.

He said; they went, and to Nausicaa told

His answer; then the Hero in the stream

His shoulders laved, and loins incrusted rough

With the salt spray, and with his hands the scum          280

Of the wild ocean from his locks express’d.

Thus wash’d all over, and refresh’d with oil,

He put the garments on, Nausicaa’s gift.

Then Pallas, progeny of Jove, his form

Dilated more, and from his head diffused

His curling locks like hyacinthine flowers.

As when some artist, by Minerva made

And Vulcan wise to execute all tasks

Ingenious, binding with a golden verge

Bright silver, finishes a graceful work,          290

Such grace the Goddess o’er his ample chest

Copious diffused, and o’er his manly brows.

Retiring, on the beach he sat, with grace

And dignity illumed, where, viewing him,

The virgin Princess, with amazement mark’d

His beauty, and her damsels thus bespake.

My white-arm’d maidens, listen to my voice!

Not hated, sure, by all above, this man

Among Phæacia’s godlike sons arrives.

At first I deem’d him of plebeian sort          300

Dishonourable, but he now assumes

A near resemblance to the Gods above.

Ah! would to heaven it were my lot to call

Husband, some native of our land like him

Accomplish’d, and content to inhabit here!

Give him, my maidens, food, and give him wine.

She ended; they obedient to her will,

Both wine and food, dispatchful, placed, and glad,

Before Ulysses; he rapacious ate,

Toil-suff’ring Chief, and drank, for he had lived          310

From taste of aliment long time estranged.

On other thoughts meantime intent, her charge

Of folded vestments neat the Princess placed

Within the royal wain, then yoked the mules,

And to her seat herself ascending, call’d

Ulysses to depart, and thus she spake.

Up, stranger! seek the city. I will lead

Thy steps toward my royal Father’s house,

Where all Phæacia’s Nobles thou shalt see.

But thou (for I account thee not unwise)          320

This course pursue. While through the fields we pass,

And labours of the rural hind, so long

With my attendants follow fast the mules

And sumpter-carriage. I will be thy guide.

But, once the summit gain’d, on which is built

Our city with proud bulwarks fenced around,

And laved on both sides by its pleasant port

Of narrow entrance, where our gallant barks

Line all the road, each station’d in her place,

And where, adjoining close the splendid fane          330

Of Neptune, stands the forum with huge stones

From quarries thither drawn, constructed strong,

In which the rigging of their barks they keep,

Sail-cloth and cordage, and make smooth their oars;

(For bow and quiver the Phæacian race

Heed not, but masts and oars, and ships well-poised,

With which exulting they divide the flood)

Then, cautious, I would shun their bitter taunts

Disgustful, lest they mock me as I pass;

For of the meaner people some are coarse          340

In the extreme, and it may chance that one,

The basest there seeing us shall exclaim—

What handsome stranger of athletic form

Attends the Princess? Where had she the chance

To find him? We shall see them wedded soon.

Either she hath received some vagrant guest

From distant lands, (for no land neighbours ours)

Or by her pray’rs incessant won, some God

Hath left the heav’ns to be for ever hers.

’Tis well if she have found, by her own search,          350

An husband for herself, since she accounts

The Nobles of Phæacia, who her hand

Solicit num’rous, worthy to be scorn’d—

Thus will they speak, injurious. I should blame

A virgin guilty of such conduct much,

Myself, who reckless of her parents’ will,

Should so familiar with a man consort,

Ere celebration of her spousal rites.

But mark me, stranger! following my advice,

Thou shalt the sooner at my father’s hands          360

Obtain safe conduct and conveyance home.

Sacred to Pallas a delightful grove

Of poplars skirts the road, which we shall reach

Ere long; within that grove a fountain flows,

And meads encircle it; my father’s farm

Is there, and his luxuriant garden plot;

A shout might reach it from the city-walls.

There wait, till in the town arrived, we gain

My father’s palace, and when reason bids

Suppose us there, then ent’ring thou the town,          370

Ask where Alcinoüs dwells, my valiant Sire.

Well known is his abode, so that with ease

A child might lead thee to it, for in nought

The other houses of our land the house

Resemble, in which dwells the Hero, King

Alcinoüs. Once within the court received

Pause not, but, with swift pace advancing, seek

My mother; she beside a column sits

In the hearth’s blaze, twirling her fleecy threads

Tinged with sea-purple, bright, magnificent!          380

With all her maidens orderly behind.

There also stands my father’s throne, on which

Seated, he drinks and banquets like a God.

Pass that; then suppliant clasp my mother’s knees,

So shalt thou quickly win a glad return

To thy own home, however far remote.

Her favour, once, and her kind aid secured,

Thenceforth thou may’st expect thy friends to see,

Thy dwelling, and thy native soil again.

So saying, she with her splendid scourge the mules          390

Lash’d onward. They (the stream soon left behind)

With even footsteps graceful smote the ground;

But so she ruled them, managing with art

The scourge, as not to leave afar, although

Following on foot, Ulysses and her train.

The sun had now declined, when in that grove

Renown’d, to Pallas sacred, they arrived,

In which Ulysses sat, and fervent thus

Sued to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d.

Daughter invincible of Jove supreme!          400

Oh, hear me! Hear me now, because when erst

The mighty Shaker of the shores incensed

Toss’d me from wave to wave, thou heard’st me not.

Grant me, among Phæacia’s sons, to find

Benevolence and pity of my woes!

He spake, whose pray’r well-pleas’d the Goddess heard,

But, rev’rencing the brother of her sire,[24]

Appear’d not to Ulysses yet, whom he

Pursued with fury to his native shores.

[23] In the Original, she calls him, pappa! a more natural stile of address and more endearing. But ancient as this appellative is, it is also so familiar in modern use, that the Translator feared to hazard it.

[24] Neptune.

end chapter

BOOK VII

ARGUMENT

Nausicaa returns from the river, whom Ulysses follows. He halts, by her direction, at a small distance from the palace, which at a convenient time he enters. He is well received by Alcinoüs and his Queen; and having related to them the manner of his being cast on the shore of Scheria, and received from Alcinoüs the promise of safe conduct home, retires to rest.

Such pray’r Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown’d,

To Pallas made, meantime the virgin, drawn

By her stout mules, Phæacia’s city reach’d,

And, at her father’s house arrived, the car

Stay’d in the vestibule; her brothers five,

All godlike youths, assembling quick around,

Released the mules, and bore the raiment in.

Meantime, to her own chamber she return’d,

Where, soon as she arrived, an antient dame

Eurymedusa, by peculiar charge          10

Attendant on that service, kindled fire.

Sea-rovers her had from Epirus brought

Long since, and to Alcinoüs she had fall’n

By public gift, for that he ruled, supreme,

Phæacia, and as oft as he harangued

The multitude, was rev’renced as a God.

She waited on the fair Nausicaa, she

Her fuel kindled, and her food prepared.

And now Ulysses from his seat arose

To seek the city, around whom, his guard          20

Benevolent, Minerva, cast a cloud,

Lest, haply, some Phæacian should presume

T’ insult the Chief, and question whence he came.

But ere he enter’d yet the pleasant town,

Minerva azure-eyed met him, in form

A blooming maid, bearing her pitcher forth.

She stood before him, and the noble Chief

Ulysses, of the Goddess thus enquired.

Daughter! wilt thou direct me to the house

Of brave Alcinoüs, whom this land obeys?          30

For I have here arrived, after long toil,

And from a country far remote, a guest

To all who in Phæacia dwell, unknown.

To whom the Goddess of the azure-eyes.

The mansion of thy search, stranger revered!

Myself will shew thee; for not distant dwells

Alcinoüs from my father’s own abode:

But hush! be silent—I will lead the way;

Mark no man; question no man; for the sight

Of strangers is unusual here, and cold          40

The welcome by this people shown to such.

They, trusting in swift ships, by the free grant

Of Neptune traverse his wide waters, borne

As if on wings, or with the speed of thought.

So spake the Goddess, and with nimble pace

Led on, whose footsteps he, as quick, pursued.

But still the seaman-throng through whom he pass’d

Perceiv’d him not; Minerva, Goddess dread,

That sight forbidding them, whose eyes she dimm’d

With darkness shed miraculous around          50

Her fav’rite Chief. Ulysses, wond’ring, mark’d

Their port, their ships, their forum, the resort

Of Heroes, and their battlements sublime

Fenced with sharp stakes around, a glorious show!

But when the King’s august abode he reach’d,

Minerva azure-eyed, then, thus began.

My father! thou behold’st the house to which

Thou bad’st me lead thee. Thou shalt find our Chiefs

And high-born Princes banqueting within.

But enter fearing nought, for boldest men          60

Speed ever best, come whencesoe’er they may.

First thou shalt find the Queen, known by her name

Areta; lineal in descent from those

Who gave Alcinoüs birth, her royal spouse.

Neptune begat Nausithoüs, at the first,

On Peribæa, loveliest of her sex,

Latest-born daughter of Eurymedon,

Heroic King of the proud giant race,

Who, losing all his impious people, shared

The same dread fate himself. Her Neptune lov’d,          70

To whom she bore a son, the mighty prince

Nausithoüs, in his day King of the land.

Nausithoüs himself two sons begat,

Rhexenor and Alcinoüs. Phoebus slew

Rhexenor at his home, a bridegroom yet,

Who, father of no son, one daughter left,

Areta, wedded to Alcinoüs now,

And whom the Sov’reign in such honour holds,

As woman none enjoys of all on earth

Existing, subjects of an husband’s pow’r.          80

Like veneration she from all receives

Unfeign’d, from her own children, from himself

Alcinoüs, and from all Phæacia’s race,

Who, gazing on her as she were divine,

Shout when she moves in progress through the town.

For she no wisdom wants, but sits, herself,

Arbitress of such contests as arise

Between her fav’rites, and decides aright.

Her count’nance once and her kind aid secured,

Thou may’st thenceforth expect thy friends to see,          90

Thy dwelling, and thy native soil again.

So Pallas spake, Goddess cærulean-eyed,

And o’er the untillable and barren Deep

Departing, Scheria left, land of delight,

Whence reaching Marathon, and Athens next,

She pass’d into Erectheus’ fair abode.

Ulysses, then, toward the palace moved

Of King Alcinoüs, but immers’d in thought

Stood, first, and paused, ere with his foot he press’d

The brazen threshold; for a light he saw          100

As of the sun or moon illuming clear

The palace of Phæacia’s mighty King.

Walls plated bright with brass, on either side

Stretch’d from the portal to th’ interior house,

With azure cornice crown’d; the doors were gold

Which shut the palace fast; silver the posts

Rear’d on a brazen threshold, and above,

The lintels, silver, architraved with gold.

Mastiffs, in gold and silver, lined the approach

On either side, by art celestial framed          110

Of Vulcan, guardians of Alcinoüs’ gate

For ever, unobnoxious to decay.

Sheer from the threshold to the inner house

Fixt thrones the walls, through all their length, adorn’d,

With mantles overspread of subtlest warp

Transparent, work of many a female hand.

On these the princes of Phæacia sat,

Holding perpetual feasts, while golden youths

On all the sumptuous altars stood, their hands

With burning torches charged, which, night by night,          120

Shed radiance over all the festive throng.

Full fifty female menials serv’d the King

In household offices; the rapid mills

These turning, pulverize the mellow’d grain,

Those, seated orderly, the purple fleece

Wind off, or ply the loom, restless as leaves

Of lofty poplars fluttering in the breeze;

Bright as with oil the new-wrought texture shone.[25]

Far as Phæacian mariners all else

Surpass, the swift ship urging through the floods,          130

So far in tissue-work the women pass

All others, by Minerva’s self endow’d

With richest fancy and superior skill.

Without the court, and to the gates adjoin’d

A spacious garden lay, fenced all around

Secure, four acres measuring complete.

There grew luxuriant many a lofty tree,

Pomegranate, pear, the apple blushing bright,

The honied fig, and unctuous olive smooth.

Those fruits, nor winter’s cold nor summer’s heat          140

Fear ever, fail not, wither not, but hang

Perennial, whose unceasing zephyr breathes

Gently on all, enlarging these, and those

Maturing genial; in an endless course

Pears after pears to full dimensions swell,

Figs follow figs, grapes clust’ring grow again

Where clusters grew, and (ev’ry apple stript)

The boughs soon tempt the gath’rer as before.

There too, well-rooted, and of fruit profuse,

His vineyard grows; part, wide-extended, basks,          150

In the sun’s beams; the arid level glows;

In part they gather, and in part they tread

The wine-press, while, before the eye, the grapes

Here put their blossom forth, there, gather fast

Their blackness. On the garden’s verge extreme

Flow’rs of all hues smile all the year, arranged

With neatest art judicious, and amid

The lovely scene two fountains welling forth,

One visits, into ev’ry part diffus’d,

The garden-ground, the other soft beneath          160

The threshold steals into the palace-court,

Whence ev’ry citizen his vase supplies.

Such were the ample blessings on the house

Of King Alcinoüs by the Gods bestow’d.

Ulysses wond’ring stood, and when, at length,

Silent he had the whole fair scene admired,

With rapid step enter’d the royal gate.

The Chiefs he found and Senators within

Libation pouring to the vigilant spy

Mercurius, whom with wine they worshipp’d last          170

Of all the Gods, and at the hour of rest.

Ulysses, toil-worn Hero, through the house

Pass’d undelaying, by Minerva thick

With darkness circumfus’d, till he arrived

Where King Alcinoüs and Areta sat.

Around Areta’s knees his arms he cast,

And, in that moment, broken clear away

The cloud all went, shed on him from above.

Dumb sat the guests, seeing the unknown Chief,

And wond’ring gazed. He thus his suit preferr’d.          180

Areta, daughter of the Godlike Prince

Rhexenor! suppliant at thy knees I fall,

Thy royal spouse imploring, and thyself,

(After ten thousand toils) and these your guests,

To whom heav’n grant felicity, and to leave

Their treasures to their babes, with all the rights

And honours, by the people’s suffrage, theirs!

But oh vouchsafe me, who have wanted long

And ardent wish’d my home, without delay

Safe conduct to my native shores again!          190

Such suit he made, and in the ashes sat

At the hearth-side; they mute long time remain’d,

Till, at the last, the antient Hero spake

Echeneus, eldest of Phæacia’s sons,

With eloquence beyond the rest endow’d,

Rich in traditionary lore, and wise

In all, who thus, benevolent, began.

Not honourable to thyself, O King!

Is such a sight, a stranger on the ground

At the hearth-side seated, and in the dust.          200

Meantime, thy guests, expecting thy command,

Move not; thou therefore raising by his hand

The stranger, lead him to a throne, and bid

The heralds mingle wine, that we may pour

To thunder-bearing Jove, the suppliant’s friend.

Then let the cat’ress for thy guest produce

Supply, a supper from the last regale.

Soon as those words Alcinoüs heard, the King,

Upraising by his hand the prudent Chief

Ulysses from the hearth, he made him sit,          210

On a bright throne, displacing for his sake

Laodamas his son, the virtuous youth

Who sat beside him, and whom most he lov’d.

And now, a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r

And with an argent laver, pouring, first,

Pure water on his hands, supply’d him, next,

With a resplendent table, which the chaste

Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread

And dainties, remnants of the last regale.

Then ate the Hero toil-inured, and drank,          220

And to his herald thus Alcinoüs spake.

Pontonoüs! mingling wine, bear it around

To ev’ry guest in turn, that we may pour

To thunder-bearer Jove, the stranger’s friend,

And guardian of the suppliant’s sacred rights.

He said; Pontonoüs, as he bade, the wine

Mingled delicious, and the cups dispensed

With distribution regular to all.

When each had made libation, and had drunk

Sufficient, then, Alcinoüs thus began.          230

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, I speak

The dictates of my mind, therefore attend!

Ye all have feasted—To your homes and sleep.

We will assemble at the dawn of day

More senior Chiefs, that we may entertain

The stranger here, and to the Gods perform

Due sacrifice; the convoy that he asks

Shall next engage our thoughts, that free from pain

And from vexation, by our friendly aid

He may revisit, joyful and with speed,          240

His native shore, however far remote.

No inconvenience let him feel or harm,

Ere his arrival; but, arrived, thenceforth

He must endure whatever lot the Fates

Spun for him in the moment of his birth.

But should he prove some Deity from heav’n

Descended, then the Immortals have in view

Designs not yet apparent; for the Gods

Have ever from of old reveal’d themselves

At our solemnities, have on our seats          250

Sat with us evident, and shared the feast;

And even if a single traveller

Of the Phæacians meet them, all reserve

They lay aside; for with the Gods we boast

As near affinity as do themselves

The Cyclops, or the Giant race profane.[26]

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Alcinoüs! think not so. Resemblance none

In figure or in lineaments I bear

To the immortal tenants of the skies,          260

But to the sons of earth; if ye have known

A man afflicted with a weight of woe

Peculiar, let me be with him compared;

Woes even passing his could I relate,

And all inflicted on me by the Gods.

But let me eat, comfortless as I am,

Uninterrupted; for no call is loud

As that of hunger in the ears of man;

Importunate, unreas’nable, it constrains

His notice, more than all his woes beside.          270

So, I much sorrow feel, yet not the less

Hear I the blatant appetite demand

Due sustenance, and with a voice that drowns

E’en all my suff’rings, till itself be fill’d.

But expedite ye at the dawn of day

My safe return into my native land,

After much mis’ry; and let life itself

Forsake me, may I but once more behold

All that is mine, in my own lofty abode.

He spake, whom all applauded, and advised,          280

Unanimous, the guest’s conveyance home,

Who had so fitly spoken. When, at length,

All had libation made, and were sufficed,

Departing to his house, each sought repose.

But still Ulysses in the hall remain’d,

Where, godlike King, Alcinoüs at his side

Sat, and Areta; the attendants clear’d

Meantime the board, and thus the Queen white-arm’d,

(Marking the vest and mantle, which he wore

And which her maidens and herself had made)          290

In accents wing’d with eager haste began.

Stranger! the first enquiry shall be mine;

Who art, and whence? From whom receiv’dst thou these?

Saidst not—I came a wand’rer o’er the Deep?

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Oh Queen! the task were difficult to unfold

In all its length the story of my woes,

For I have num’rous from the Gods receiv’d;

But I will answer thee as best I may.

There is a certain isle, Ogygia, placed          300

Far distant in the Deep; there dwells, by man

Alike unvisited, and by the Gods,

Calypso, beauteous nymph, but deeply skill’d

In artifice, and terrible in pow’r,

Daughter of Atlas. Me alone my fate

Her miserable inmate made, when Jove

Had riv’n asunder with his candent bolt

My bark in the mid-sea. There perish’d all

The valiant partners of my toils, and I

My vessel’s keel embracing day and night          310

With folded arms, nine days was borne along.

But on the tenth dark night, as pleas’d the Gods,

They drove me to Ogygia, where resides

Calypso, beauteous nymph, dreadful in pow’r;

She rescued, cherish’d, fed me, and her wish

Was to confer on me immortal life,

Exempt for ever from the sap of age.

But me her offer’d boon sway’d not. Sev’n years

I there abode continual, with my tears

Bedewing ceaseless my ambrosial robes,          320

Calypso’s gift divine; but when, at length,

(Sev’n years elaps’d) the circling eighth arrived,

She then, herself, my quick departure thence

Advised, by Jove’s own mandate overaw’d,

Which even her had influenced to a change.

On a well-corded raft she sent me forth

With num’rous presents; bread she put and wine

On board, and cloath’d me in immortal robes;

She sent before me also a fair wind

Fresh-blowing, but not dang’rous. Sev’nteen days          330

I sail’d the flood continual, and descried,

On the eighteenth, your shadowy mountains tall

When my exulting heart sprang at the sight,

All wretched as I was, and still ordain’d

To strive with difficulties many and hard

From adverse Neptune; he the stormy winds

Exciting opposite, my wat’ry way

Impeded, and the waves heav’d to a bulk

Immeasurable, such as robb’d me soon

Deep-groaning, of the raft, my only hope;          340

For her the tempest scatter’d, and myself

This ocean measur’d swimming, till the winds

And mighty waters cast me on your shore.

Me there emerging, the huge waves had dash’d

Full on the land, where, incommodious most,

The shore presented only roughest rocks,

But, leaving it, I swam the Deep again,

Till now, at last, a river’s gentle stream

Receiv’d me, by no rocks deform’d, and where

No violent winds the shelter’d bank annoy’d.          350

I flung myself on shore, exhausted, weak,

Needing repose; ambrosial night came on,

When from the Jove-descended stream withdrawn,

I in a thicket lay’d me down on leaves

Which I had heap’d together, and the Gods

O’erwhelm’d my eye-lids with a flood of sleep.

There under wither’d leaves, forlorn, I slept

All the long night, the morning and the noon,

But balmy sleep, at the decline of day,

Broke from me; then, your daughter’s train I heard          360

Sporting, with whom she also sported, fair

And graceful as the Gods. To her I kneel’d.

She, following the dictates of a mind

Ingenuous, pass’d in her behaviour all

Which even ye could from an age like hers

Have hoped; for youth is ever indiscrete.

She gave me plenteous food, with richest wine

Refresh’d my spirit, taught me where to bathe,

And cloath’d me as thou seest; thus, though a prey

To many sorrows, I have told thee truth.          370

To whom Alcinoüs answer thus return’d.

My daughter’s conduct, I perceive, hath been

In this erroneous, that she led thee not

Hither, at once, with her attendant train,

For thy first suit was to herself alone.

Thus then Ulysses, wary Chief, replied.

Blame not, O Hero, for so slight a cause

Thy faultless child; she bade me follow them,

But I refused, by fear and awe restrain’d,

Lest thou should’st feel displeasure at that sight          380

Thyself; for we are all, in ev’ry clime,

Suspicious, and to worst constructions prone.

So spake Ulysses, to whom thus the King.

I bear not, stranger! in my breast an heart

Causeless irascible; for at all times

A temp’rate equanimity is best.

And oh, I would to heav’n, that, being such

As now thou art, and of one mind with me,

Thou would’st accept my daughter, would’st become

My son-in-law, and dwell contented here!          390

House would I give thee, and possessions too,

Were such thy choice; else, if thou chuse it not,

No man in all Phæacia shall by force

Detain thee. Jupiter himself forbid!

For proof, I will appoint thee convoy hence

To-morrow; and while thou by sleep subdued

Shalt on thy bed repose, they with their oars

Shall brush the placid flood, till thou arrive

At home, or at what place soe’er thou would’st,

Though far more distant than Eubœa lies,          400

Remotest isle from us, by the report

Of ours, who saw it when they thither bore

Golden-hair’d Rhadamanthus o’er the Deep,

To visit earth-born Tityus. To that isle

They went; they reach’d it, and they brought him thence

Back to Phæacia, in one day, with ease.

Thou also shalt be taught what ships I boast

Unmatch’d in swiftness, and how far my crews

Excel, upturning with their oars the brine.

He ceas’d; Ulysses toil-inur’d his words          410

Exulting heard, and, praying, thus replied.

Eternal Father! may the King perform

His whole kind promise! grant him in all lands

A never-dying name, and grant to me

To visit safe my native shores again!

Thus they conferr’d; and now Areta bade

Her fair attendants dress a fleecy couch

Under the portico, with purple rugs

Resplendent, and with arras spread beneath,

And over all with cloaks of shaggy pile.          420

Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch,

And, as she bade, prepared in haste a couch

Of depth commodious, then, returning, gave

Ulysses welcome summons to repose.

Stranger! thy couch is spread. Hence to thy rest.

So they—Thrice grateful to his soul the thought

Seem’d of repose. There slept Ulysses, then,

On his carv’d couch, beneath the portico,

But in the inner-house Alcinoüs found

His place of rest, and hers with royal state          430

Prepared, the Queen his consort, at his side.

[25]

Καιροσέων δ’ οθονεων ἀπολείβεται ὑγρον ἔλαιον.

Pope has given no translation of this line in the text of his work, but has translated it in a note. It is variously interpreted by commentators; the sense which is here given of it is that recommended by Eustathius.

[26] The Scholiast explains the passage thus—We resemble the Gods in righteousness as much as the Cyclops and Giants resembled each other in impiety. But in this sense of it there is something intricate and contrary to Homer’s manner. We have seen that they derived themselves from Neptune, which sufficiently justifies the above interpretation.

end chapter

BOOK VIII

ARGUMENT

The Phæacians consult on the subject of Ulysses. Preparation is made for his departure. Antinoüs entertains them at his table. Games follow the entertainment. Demodocus the bard sings, first the loves of Mars and Venus, then the introduction of the wooden horse into Troy. Ulysses, much affected by his song, is questioned by Alcinoüs, whence, and who he is, and what is the cause of his sorrow.

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Blush’d in the East, then from his bed arose

The sacred might of the Phæacian King.

Then uprose also, city-waster Chief,

Ulysses, whom the King Alcinoüs

Led forth to council at the ships convened.

There, side by side, on polish’d stones they sat

Frequent; meantime, Minerva in the form

Of King Alcinoüs’ herald ranged the town,

With purpose to accelerate the return          10

Of brave Ulysses to his native home,

And thus to ev’ry Chief the Goddess spake.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, away!

Haste all to council on the stranger held,

Who hath of late beneath Alcinoüs’ roof

Our King arrived, a wand’rer o’er the Deep,

But, in his form, majestic as a God.

So saying, she roused the people, and at once

The seats of all the senate-court were fill’d

With fast-assembling throngs, no few of whom          20

Had mark’d Ulysses with admiring eyes.

Then, Pallas o’er his head and shoulders broad

Diffusing grace celestial, his whole form

Dilated, and to the statelier height advanced,

That worthier of all rev’rence he might seem

To the Phæacians, and might many a feat

Atchieve, with which they should assay his force.

When, therefore, the assembly now was full,

Alcinoüs, them addressing, thus began.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators! I speak          30

The dictates of my mind, therefore attend.

This guest, unknown to me, hath, wand’ring, found

My palace, either from the East arrived,

Or from some nation on our western side.

Safe conduct home he asks, and our consent

Here wishes ratified, whose quick return

Be it our part, as usual, to promote;

For at no time the stranger, from what coast

Soe’er, who hath resorted to our doors,

Hath long complain’d of his detention here.          40

Haste—draw ye down into the sacred Deep

A vessel of prime speed, and, from among

The people, fifty and two youths select,

Approved the best; then, lashing fast the oars,

Leave her, that at my palace ye may make

Short feast, for which myself will all provide.

Thus I enjoin the crew; but as for those

Of sceptred rank, I bid them all alike

To my own board, that here we may regale

The stranger nobly, and let none refuse.          50

Call, too, Demodocus, the bard divine,

To share my banquet, whom the Gods have blest

With pow’rs of song delectable, unmatch’d

By any, when his genius once is fired.

He ceas’d, and led the way, whom follow’d all

The sceptred senators, while to the house

An herald hasted of the bard divine.

Then, fifty mariners and two, from all

The rest selected, to the coast repair’d,

And, from her station on the sea-bank, launched          60

The galley down into the sacred Deep.

They placed the canvas and the mast on board,

Arranged the oars, unfurl’d the shining sail,

And, leaving her in depth of water moor’d,

All sought the palace of Alcinoüs.

There, soon, the portico, the court, the hall

Were fill’d with multitudes of young and old,

For whose regale the mighty monarch slew

Two beeves, twelve sheep, and twice four fatted brawns.

They slay’d them first, then busily their task          70

Administ’ring, prepared the joyous feast.

And now the herald came, leading with care

The tuneful bard; dear to the muse was he,

Who yet appointed him both good and ill;

Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine.

For him, Pontonoüs in the midst disposed

An argent-studded throne, thrusting it close

To a tall column, where he hung his lyre

Above his head, and taught him where it hung.

He set before him, next, a polish’d board          80

And basket, and a goblet fill’d with wine

For his own use, and at his own command.

Then, all assail’d at once the ready feast,

And when nor hunger more nor thirst they felt,

Then came the muse, and roused the bard to sing

Exploits of men renown’d; it was a song,

In that day, to the highest heav’n extoll’d.

He sang of a dispute kindled between

The son of Peleus, and Laertes’[27] son,

Both seated at a feast held to the Gods.          90

That contest Agamemnon, King of men,

Between the noblest of Achaia’s host

Hearing, rejoiced; for when in Pytho erst

He pass’d the marble threshold to consult

The oracle of Apollo, such dispute

The voice divine had to his ear announced;

For then it was that, first, the storm of war

Came rolling on, ordain’d long time to afflict

Troy and the Greecians, by the will of Jove.

So sang the bard illustrious; then his robe          100

Of purple dye with both hands o’er his head

Ulysses drew, behind its ample folds

Veiling his face, through fear to be observed

By the Phæacians weeping at the song;

And ever as the bard harmonious ceased,

He wiped his tears, and, drawing from his brows

The mantle, pour’d libation to the Gods.

But when the Chiefs (for they delighted heard

Those sounds) solicited again the bard,

And he renew’d the strain, then cov’ring close          110

His count’nance, as before, Ulysses wept.

Thus, unperceiv’d by all, the Hero mourn’d,

Save by Alcinoüs; he alone his tears,

(Beside him seated) mark’d, and his deep sighs

O’erhearing, the Phæacians thus bespake.

Phæacia’s Chiefs and Senators, attend!

We have regaled sufficient, and the harp

Heard to satiety, companion sweet

And seasonable of the festive hour.

Now go we forth for honourable proof          120

Of our address in games of ev’ry kind,

That this our guest may to his friends report,

At home arriv’d, that none like us have learn’d

To leap, to box, to wrestle, and to run.

So saying, he led them forth, whose steps the guests

All follow’d, and the herald hanging high

The sprightly lyre, took by his hand the bard

Demodocus, whom he the self-same way

Conducted forth, by which the Chiefs had gone

Themselves, for that great spectacle prepared.          130

They sought the forum; countless swarm’d the throng

Behind them as they went, and many a youth

Strong and courageous to the strife arose.

Upstood Acroneus and Ocyalus,

Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom

Anchialus with Anabeesineus

Arose, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus bold,

Amphialus and Thöon. Then arose,

In aspect dread as homicidal Mars,

Euryalus, and for his graceful form          140

(After Laodamas) distinguish’d most

Of all Phæacia’s sons, Naubolides.

Three also from Alcinoüs sprung, arose,

Laodamas, his eldest; Halius, next,

His second-born; and godlike Clytoneus.

Of these, some started for the runner’s prize.

They gave the race its limits.[28] All at once

Along the dusty champaign swift they flew.

But Clytoneus, illustrious youth, outstripp’d

All competition; far as mules surpass          150

Slow oxen furrowing the fallow ground,

So far before all others he arrived

Victorious, where the throng’d spectators stood.

Some tried the wrestler’s toil severe, in which

Euryalus superior proved to all.

In the long leap Amphialus prevail’d;

Elatreus most successful hurled the quoit,

And at the cestus,[29] last, the noble son

Of Scheria’s King, Laodamas excell’d.

When thus with contemplation of the games          160

All had been gratified, Alcinoüs’ son

Laodamas, arising, then address’d.

Friends! ask we now the stranger, if he boast

Proficiency in aught. His figure seems

Not ill; in thighs, and legs, and arms he shews

Much strength, and in his brawny neck; nor youth

Hath left him yet, though batter’d he appears

With num’rous troubles, and misfortune-flaw’d.

Nor know I hardships in the world so sure

To break the strongest down, as those by sea.          170

Then answer thus Euryalus return’d.

Thou hast well said, Laodamas; thyself

Approaching, speak to him, and call him forth.

Which when Alcinoüs’ noble offspring heard,

Advancing from his seat, amid them all

He stood, and to Ulysses thus began.

Stand forth, oh guest, thou also; prove thy skill

(If any such thou hast) in games like ours,

Which, likeliest, thou hast learn’d; for greater praise

Hath no man, while he lives, than that he know          180

His feet to exercise and hands aright.

Come then; make trial; scatter wide thy cares,

We will not hold thee long; the ship is launch’d

Already, and the crew stand all prepared.

To whom replied the wily Chief renown’d

Wherefore, as in derision, have ye call’d

Me forth, Laodamas, to these exploits?

No games have I, but many a grief, at heart,

And with far other struggles worn, here sit

Desirous only of conveyance home,          190

For which both King and people I implore.

Then him Euryalus aloud reproach’d.

I well believ’d it, friend! in thee the guise

I see not of a man expert in feats

Athletic, of which various are perform’d

In ev’ry land; thou rather seem’st with ships

Familiar; one, accustom’d to controul

Some crew of trading mariners; well-learn’d

In stowage, pilotage, and wealth acquired

By rapine, but of no gymnastic pow’rs.          200

To whom Ulysses, frowning dark, replied.

Thou hast ill spoken, sir, and like a man

Regardless whom he wrongs. Therefore the Gods

Give not endowments graceful in each kind,

Of body, mind, and utt’rance, all to one.

This man in figure less excels, yet Jove

Crowns him with eloquence; his hearers charm’d

Behold him, while with modest confidence

He bears the prize of fluent speech from all,

And in the streets is gazed on as a God!          210

Another, in his form the Pow’rs above

Resembles, but no grace around his words

Twines itself elegant. So, thou in form

Hast excellence to boast; a God, employ’d

To make a master-piece in human shape,

Could but produce proportions such as thine;

Yet hast thou an untutor’d intellect.

Thou much hast moved me; thy unhandsome phrase

Hath roused my wrath; I am not, as thou say’st,

A novice in these sports, but took the lead          220

In all, while youth and strength were on my side.

But I am now in bands of sorrow held,

And of misfortune, having much endured

In war, and buffeting the boist’rous waves.

Yet, though with mis’ry worn, I will essay

My strength among you; for thy words had teeth

Whose bite hath pinch’d and pain’d me to the proof.

He said; and mantled as he was, a quoit

Upstarting, seized, in bulk and weight all those

Transcending far, by the Phæacians used.          230

Swiftly he swung, and from his vig’rous hand

Sent it. Loud sang the stone, and as it flew

The maritime Phæacians low inclined

Their heads beneath it; over all the marks,

And far beyond them, sped the flying rock.

Minerva, in a human form, the cast

Prodigious measur’d, and aloud exclaim’d.

Stranger! the blind himself might with his hands

Feel out the ’vantage here. Thy quoit disdains

Fellowship with a crowd, borne far beyond.          240

Fear not a losing game; Phæacian none

Will reach thy measure, much less overcast.

She ceased; Ulysses, hardy Chief, rejoiced

That in the circus he had found a judge

So favorable, and with brisker tone,

As less in wrath, the multitude address’d.

Young men, reach this, and I will quickly heave

Another such, or yet a heavier quoit.

Then, come the man whose courage prompts him forth

To box, to wrestle with me, or to run;          250

For ye have chafed me much, and I decline

No strife with any here, but challenge all

Phæacia, save Laodamas alone.

He is mine host. Who combats with his friend?

To call to proof of hardiment the man

Who entertains him in a foreign land,

Would but evince the challenger a fool,

Who, so, would cripple his own interest there.

As for the rest, I none refuse, scorn none,

But wish for trial of you, and to match          260

In opposition fair my force with yours.

There is no game athletic in the use

Of all mankind, too difficult for me;

I handle well the polish’d bow, and first

Amid a thousand foes strike whom I mark,

Although a throng of warriors at my side

Imbattled, speed their shafts at the same time.

Of all Achaia’s sons who erst at Troy

Drew bow, the sole who bore the prize from me

Was Philoctetes; I resign it else          270

To none now nourish’d with the fruits of earth.

Yet mean I no comparison of myself

With men of antient times, with Hercules,

Or with Oechalian Eurytus, who, both,

The Gods themselves in archery defied.

Soon, therefore, died huge Eurytus, ere yet

Old age he reach’d; him, angry to be call’d

To proof of archership, Apollo slew.

But if ye name the spear, mine flies a length

By no man’s arrow reach’d; I fear no foil          280

From the Phæacians, save in speed alone;

For I have suffer’d hardships, dash’d and drench’d

By many a wave, nor had I food on board

At all times, therefore I am much unstrung.

He spake; and silent the Phæacians sat,

Of whom alone Alcinoüs thus replied.

Since, stranger, not ungraceful is thy speech,

Who hast but vindicated in our ears

Thy question’d prowess, angry that this youth

Reproach’d thee in the presence of us all,          290

That no man qualified to give his voice

In public, might affront thy courage more;

Now mark me, therefore, that in time to come,

While feasting with thy children and thy spouse,

Thou may’st inform the Heroes of thy land

Even of our proficiency in arts

By Jove enjoin’d us in our father’s days.

We boast not much the boxer’s skill, nor yet

The wrestler’s; but light-footed in the race

Are we, and navigators well-inform’d.          300

Our pleasures are the feast, the harp, the dance,

Garments for change; the tepid bath; the bed.

Come, ye Phæacians, beyond others skill’d

To tread the circus with harmonious steps,

Come, play before us; that our guest, arrived

In his own country, may inform his friends

How far in seamanship we all excel,

In running, in the dance, and in the song.

Haste! bring ye to Demodocus his lyre

Clear-toned, left somewhere in our hall at home.          310

So spake the godlike King, at whose command

The herald to the palace quick return’d

To seek the charming lyre. Meantime arose

Nine arbiters, appointed to intend

The whole arrangement of the public games,

To smooth the circus floor, and give the ring

Its compass, widening the attentive throng.

Ere long the herald came, bearing the harp,

With which Demodocus supplied, advanced

Into the middle area, around whom          320

Stood blooming youths, all skilful in the dance.

With footsteps justly timed all smote at once

The sacred floor; Ulysses wonder-fixt,

The ceaseless play of twinkling[30] feet admired.

Then, tuning his sweet chords, Demodocus

A jocund strain began, his theme, the loves

Of Mars and Cytherea chaplet-crown’d;

How first, clandestine, they embraced beneath

The roof of Vulcan, her, by many a gift

Seduced, Mars won, and with adult’rous lust          330

The bed dishonour’d of the King of fire.

The sun, a witness of their amorous sport,

Bore swift the tale to Vulcan; he, apprized

Of that foul deed, at once his smithy sought,

In secret darkness of his inmost soul

Contriving vengeance; to the stock he heav’d

His anvil huge, on which he forged a snare

Of bands indissoluble, by no art

To be untied, durance for ever firm.

The net prepared, he bore it, fiery-wroth,          340

To his own chamber and his nuptial couch,

Where, stretching them from post to post, he wrapp’d

With those fine meshes all his bed around,

And hung them num’rous from the roof, diffused

Like spiders’ filaments, which not the Gods

Themselves could see, so subtle were the toils.

When thus he had encircled all his bed

On ev’ry side, he feign’d a journey thence

To Lemnos, of all cities that adorn

The earth, the city that he favours most.          350

Nor kept the God of the resplendent reins

Mars, drowsy watch, but seeing that the famed

Artificer of heav’n had left his home,

Flew to the house of Vulcan, hot to enjoy

The Goddess with the wreath-encircled brows.

She, newly from her potent Sire return’d

The son of Saturn, sat. Mars, ent’ring, seiz’d

Her hand, hung on it, and thus urg’d his suit.

To bed, my fair, and let us love! for lo!

Thine husband is from home, to Lemnos gone,          360

And to the Sintians, men of barb’rous speech.

He spake, nor she was loth, but bedward too

Like him inclined; so then, to bed they went,

And as they lay’d them down, down stream’d the net

Around them, labour exquisite of hands

By ingenuity divine inform’d.

Small room they found, so prison’d; not a limb

Could either lift, or move, but felt at once

Entanglement from which was no escape.

And now the glorious artist, ere he yet          370

Had reach’d the Lemnian isle, limping, return’d

From his feign’d journey, for his spy the sun

Had told him all. With aching heart he sought

His home, and, standing in the vestibule,

Frantic with indignation roar’d to heav’n,

And roar’d again, summoning all the Gods.—

Oh Jove! and all ye Pow’rs for ever blest!

Here; hither look, that ye may view a sight

Ludicrous, yet too monstrous to be borne,

How Venus always with dishonour loads          380

Her cripple spouse, doating on fiery Mars!

And wherefore? for that he is fair in form

And sound of foot, I ricket-boned and weak.

Whose fault is this? Their fault, and theirs alone

Who gave me being; ill-employ’d were they

Begetting me, one, better far unborn.

See where they couch together on my bed

Lascivious! ah, sight hateful to my eyes!

Yet cooler wishes will they feel, I ween,

To press my bed hereafter; here to sleep          390

Will little please them, fondly as they love.

But these my toils and tangles will suffice

To hold them here, till Jove shall yield me back

Complete, the sum of all my nuptial gifts

Paid to him for the shameless strumpet’s sake

His daughter, as incontinent as fair.

He said, and in the brazen-floor’d abode

Of Jove the Gods assembled. Neptune came

Earth-circling Pow’r; came Hermes friend of man,

And, regent of the far-commanding bow,          400

Apollo also came; but chaste reserve

Bashful kept all the Goddesses at home.

The Gods, by whose beneficence all live,

Stood in the portal; infinite arose

The laugh of heav’n, all looking down intent

On that shrewd project of the smith divine,

And, turning to each other, thus they said.

Bad works speed ill. The slow o’ertakes the swift.

So Vulcan, tardy as he is, by craft

Hath outstript Mars, although the fleetest far          410

Of all who dwell in heav’n, and the light-heel’d

Must pay the adult’rer’s forfeit to the lame.

So spake the Pow’rs immortal; then the King

Of radiant shafts thus question’d Mercury.

Jove’s son, heaven’s herald, Hermes, bounteous God!

Would’st thou such stricture close of bands endure

For golden Venus lying at thy side?

Whom answer’d thus the messenger of heav’n

Archer divine! yea, and with all my heart;

And be the bands which wind us round about          420

Thrice these innumerable, and let all

The Gods and Goddesses in heav’n look on,

So I may clasp Vulcan’s fair spouse the while.

He spake; then laugh’d the Immortal Pow’rs again.

But not so Neptune; he with earnest suit

The glorious artist urged to the release

Of Mars, and thus in accents wing’d he said.

Loose him; accept my promise; he shall pay

Full recompense in presence of us all.

Then thus the limping smith far-famed replied.          430

Earth-circler Neptune, spare me that request.

Lame suitor, lame security.[31] What bands

Could I devise for thee among the Gods,

Should Mars, emancipated once, escape,

Leaving both debt and durance, far behind?

Him answer’d then the Shaker of the shores.

I tell thee, Vulcan, that if Mars by flight

Shun payment, I will pay, myself, the fine.

To whom the glorious artist of the skies.

Thou must not, canst not, shalt not be refused.          440

So saying, the might of Vulcan loos’d the snare,

And they, detain’d by those coercive bands

No longer, from the couch upstarting, flew,

Mars into Thrace, and to her Paphian home

The Queen of smiles, where deep in myrtle groves

Her incense-breathing altar stands embow’r’d.

Her there, the Graces laved, and oils diffused

O’er all her form, ambrosial, such as add

Fresh beauty to the Gods for ever young,

And cloath’d her in the loveliest robes of heav’n.          450

Such was the theme of the illustrious bard.

Ulysses with delight that song, and all

The maritime Phæacian concourse heard.

Alcinoüs, then, (for in the dance they pass’d

All others) call’d his sons to dance alone,

Halius and Laodamas; they gave

The purple ball into their hands, the work

Exact of Polybus; one, re-supine,

Upcast it high toward the dusky clouds,

The other, springing into air, with ease          460

Received it, ere he sank to earth again.

When thus they oft had sported with the ball

Thrown upward, next, with nimble interchange

They pass’d it to each other many a time,

Footing the plain, while ev’ry youth of all

The circus clapp’d his hands, and from beneath

The din of stamping feet fill’d all the air.

Then, turning to Alcinoüs, thus the wise

Ulysses spake: Alcinoüs! mighty King!

Illustrious above all Phæacia’s sons!          470

Incomparable are ye in the dance,

Ev’n as thou said’st. Amazement-fixt I stand!

So he, whom hearing, the imperial might

Exulted of Alcinoüs, and aloud

To his oar-skill’d Phæacians thus he spake.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, attend!

Wisdom beyond the common stint I mark

In this our guest; good cause in my account,

For which we should present him with a pledge

Of hospitality and love. The Chiefs          480

Are twelve, who, highest in command, controul

The people, and the thirteenth Chief am I.

Bring each a golden talent, with a vest

Well-bleach’d, and tunic; gratified with these,

The stranger to our banquet shall repair

Exulting; bring them all without delay;

And let Euryalus by word and gift

Appease him, for his speech was unadvised.

He ceas’d, whom all applauded, and at once

Each sent his herald forth to bring the gifts,          490

When thus Euryalus his Sire address’d.

Alcinoüs! o’er Phæacia’s sons supreme!

I will appease our guest, as thou command’st.

This sword shall be his own, the blade all steel.

The hilt of silver, and the unsullied sheath

Of iv’ry recent from the carver’s hand,

A gift like this he shall not need despise.

So saying, his silver-studded sword he gave

Into his grasp, and, courteous, thus began.

Hail, honour’d stranger! and if word of mine          500

Have harm’d thee, rashly spoken, let the winds

Bear all remembrance of it swift away!

May the Gods give thee to behold again

Thy wife, and to attain thy native shore,

Whence absent long, thou hast so much endured!

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Hail also thou, and may the Gods, my friend,

Grant thee felicity, and may never want

Of this thy sword touch thee in time to come,

By whose kind phrase appeas’d my wrath subsides!          510

He ended, and athwart his shoulders threw

The weapon bright emboss’d. Now sank the sun,

And those rich gifts arrived, which to the house

Of King Alcinoüs the heralds bore.

Alcinoüs’ sons receiv’d them, and beside

Their royal mother placed the precious charge.

The King then led the way, at whose abode

Arrived, again they press’d their lofty thrones,

And to Areta thus the monarch spake.

Haste, bring a coffer; bring thy best, and store          520

A mantle and a sumptuous vest within;

Warm for him, next, a brazen bath, by which

Refresh’d, and viewing in fair order placed

The noble gifts by the Phæacian Lords

Conferr’d on him, he may the more enjoy

Our banquet, and the bard’s harmonious song.

I give him also this my golden cup

Splendid, elaborate; that, while he lives

What time he pours libation forth to Jove

And all the Gods, he may remember me.          530

He ended, at whose words Areta bade

Her maidens with dispatch place o’er the fire

A tripod ample-womb’d; obedient they

Advanced a laver to the glowing hearth,

Water infused, and kindled wood beneath

The flames encircling bright the bellied vase,

Warm’d soon the flood within. Meantime, the Queen

Producing from her chamber-stores a chest

All-elegant, within it placed the gold,

And raiment, gifts of the Phæacian Chiefs,          540

With her own gifts, the mantle and the vest,

And in wing’d accents to Ulysses said.

Now take, thyself, the coffer’s lid in charge;

Girdle it quickly with a cord, lest loss

Befall thee on thy way, while thou perchance

Shalt sleep secure on board the sable bark.

Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown’d,

Adjusting close the lid, he cast a cord

Around it which with many a mazy knot

He tied, by Circe taught him long before.          550

And now, the mistress of the household charge

Summon’d him to his bath; glad he beheld

The steaming vase, uncustom’d to its use

E’er since his voyage from the isle of fair

Calypso, although, while a guest with her,

Ever familiar with it, as a God.

Laved by attendant damsels, and with oil

Refresh’d, he put his sumptuous tunic on

And mantle, and proceeding from the bath

To the symposium, join’d the num’rous guests;          560

But, as he pass’d, the Princess all divine

Beside the pillars of the portal, lost

In admiration of his graceful form,

Stood, and in accents wing’d him thus address’d.

Hail, stranger! at thy native home arrived

Remember me, thy first deliv’rer here.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Nausicaa! daughter of the noble King

Alcinoüs! So may Jove, high-thund’ring mate

Of Juno, grant me to behold again          570

My native land, and my delightful home,

As, even there, I will present my vows

To thee, adoring thee as I adore

The Gods themselves, virgin, by whom I live!

He said, and on his throne beside the King

Alcinoüs sat. And now they portion’d out

The feast to all, and charg’d the cups with wine,

And introducing by his hand the bard

Phæacia’s glory, at the column’s side

The herald placed Demodocus again.          580

Then, carving forth a portion from the loins

Of a huge brawn, of which uneaten still

Large part and delicate remain’d, thus spake

Ulysses—Herald! bear it to the bard

For his regale, whom I will soon embrace

In spite of sorrow; for respect is due

And veneration to the sacred bard

From all mankind, for that the muse inspires

Herself his song, and loves the tuneful tribe.

He ended, and the herald bore his charge          590

To the old hero who with joy received

That meed of honour at the bearer’s hand.

Then, all, at once, assail’d the ready feast,

And hunger now, and thirst both satisfied,

Thus to Demodocus Ulysses spake.

Demodocus! I give thee praise above

All mortals, for that either thee the muse

Jove’s daughter teaches, or the King, himself,

Apollo; since thou so record’st the fate,

With such clear method, of Achaia’s host,          600

Their deeds heroic, and their num’rous toils,

As thou hadst present been thyself, or learnt

From others present there, the glorious tale.

Come, then, proceed; that rare invention sing,

The horse of wood, which by Minerva’s aid

Epeus framed, and which Ulysses erst

Convey’d into the citadel of Troy

With warriors fill’d, who lay’d all Ilium waste.

These things rehearse regular, and myself

Will, instant, publish in the ears of all          610

Thy fame, reporting thee a bard to whom

Apollo free imparts celestial song.

He ended; then Apollo with full force

Rush’d on Demodocus, and he began

What time the Greeks, first firing their own camp

Steer’d all their galleys from the shore of Troy.

Already, in the horse conceal’d, his band

Around Ulysses sat; for Ilium’s sons

Themselves had drawn it to the citadel.

And there the mischief stood. Then, strife arose          620

Among the Trojans compassing the horse,

And threefold was the doubt; whether to cleave

The hollow trunk asunder, or updrawn

Aloft, to cast it headlong from the rocks,

Or to permit the enormous image, kept

Entire, to stand an off’ring to the Gods,

Which was their destined course; for Fate had fix’d

Their ruin sure, when once they had received

Within their walls that engine huge, in which

Sat all the bravest Greecians with the fate          630

Of Ilium charged, and slaughter of her sons.

He sang, how, from the horse effused, the Greeks

Left their capacious ambush, and the town

Made desolate. To others, in his song,

He gave the praise of wasting all beside,

But told how, fierce as Mars, Ulysses join’d

With godlike Menelaus, to the house

Flew of Deiphobus; him there engaged

In direst fight he sang, and through the aid

Of glorious Pallas, conqu’ror over all.          640

So sang the bard illustrious, at whose song

Ulysses melted, and tear after tear

Fell on his cheeks. As when a woman weeps,

Her husband, who hath fallen in defence

Of his own city and his babes before

The gates; she, sinking, folds him in her arms

And, gazing on him as he pants and dies,

Shrieks at the sight; meantime, the enemy

Smiting her shoulders with the spear to toil

Command her and to bondage far away,          650

And her cheek fades with horror at the sound;

Ulysses, so, from his moist lids let fall,

The frequent tear. Unnoticed by the rest

Those drops, but not by King Alcinoüs, fell

Who, seated at his side, his heavy sighs

Remark’d, and the Phæacians thus bespake.

Phæacian Chiefs and Senators attend!

Now let Demodocus enjoin his harp

Silence, for not alike grateful to all

His music sounds; during our feast, and since          660

The bard divine began, continual flow

The stranger’s sorrows, by remembrance caused

Of some great woe which wraps his soul around.

Then, let the bard suspend his song, that all

(As most befits th’ occasion) may rejoice,

Both guest and hosts together; since we make

This voyage, and these gifts confer, in proof

Of hospitality and unfeign’d love,

Judging, with all wise men, the stranger-guest

And suppliant worthy of a brother’s place.          670

And thou conceal not, artfully reserv’d,

What I shall ask, far better plain declared

Than smother’d close; who art thou? speak thy name,

The name by which thy father, mother, friends

And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell

Around thy native city, in times past

Have known thee; for of all things human none

Lives altogether nameless, whether good

Or whether bad, but ev’ry man receives

Ev’n in the moment of his birth, a name.          680

Thy country, people, city, tell; the mark

At which my ships, intelligent, shall aim,

That they may bear thee thither; for our ships

No pilot need or helm, as ships are wont,

But know, themselves, our purpose; know beside

All cities, and all fruitful regions well

Of all the earth, and with dark clouds involv’d

Plough rapid the rough Deep, fearless of harm,

(Whate’er betide) and of disast’rous wreck.

Yet thus, long since, my father I have heard          690

Nausithoüs speaking; Neptune, he would say,

Is angry with us, for that safe we bear

Strangers of ev’ry nation to their home;

And he foretold a time when he would smite

In vengeance some Phæacian gallant bark

Returning after convoy of her charge,

And fix her in the sable flood, transform’d

Into a mountain, right before the town.

So spake my hoary Sire, which let the God

At his own pleasure do, or leave undone.          700

But tell me truth, and plainly. Where have been

Thy wand’rings? in what regions of the earth

Hast thou arrived? what nations hast thou seen,

What cities? say, how many hast thou found

Harsh, savage and unjust? how many, kind

To strangers, and disposed to fear the Gods?

Say also, from what secret grief of heart

Thy sorrows flow, oft as thou hear’st the fate

Of the Achaians, or of Ilium sung?

That fate the Gods prepared; they spin the thread          710

Of man’s destruction, that in after days

The bard may make the sad event his theme.

Perish’d thy father or thy brother there?

Or hast thou at the siege of Ilium lost

Father-in-law, or son-in-law? for such

Are next and dearest to us after those

Who share our own descent; or was the dead

Thy bosom-friend, whose heart was as thy own?

For worthy as a brother of our love

The constant friend and the discrete I deem.          720

[27] Agamemnon having inquired at Delphos, at what time the Trojan war would end, was answered that the conclusion of it should happen at a time when a dispute should arise between two of his principal commanders. That dispute occurred at the time here alluded to, Achilles recommending force as most likely to reduce the city, and Ulysses stratagem.

[28] Τοισι δ’ απο νυσοης τετατο δρομος—This expression is by the commentators generally understood to be significant of the effort which they made at starting, but it is not improbable that it relates merely to the measurement of the course, otherwise, καρπαλιμως επετοντο will be tautologous.

[29] In boxing.

[30] The Translator is indebted to Mr Grey for an epithet more expressive of the original (Μαρμαρυγας) than any other, perhaps, in all our language. See the Ode on the Progress of Poetry.

“To brisk notes in cadence beating,

Glance their many-twinkling feet”

[31] The original line has received such a variety of interpretations, that a Translator seems free to choose. It has, however, a proverbial turn, which I have endeavoured to preserve, and have adopted the sense of the words which appears best to accord with what immediately follows. Vulcan pleads his own inability to enforce the demand, as a circumstance that made Neptune’s promise unacceptable.

end chapter

BOOK IX

ARGUMENT

Ulysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine, blinds him while he sleeps, and escapes from him.

Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.

Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above all

Phæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hear

A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.

The world, in my account, no sight affords

More gratifying than a people blest

With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’d

With guests in order ranged, list’ning to sounds

Melodious, and the steaming tables spread

With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine          10

From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.

No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,

Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groans

And tears, that I may sorrow still the more.

What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,

On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?

Learn first my name, that even in this land

Remote I may be known, and that escaped

From all adversity, I may requite

Hereafter, this your hospitable care          20

At my own home, however distant hence.

I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earth

For subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,

The offspring of Laertes; my abode

Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands

The mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,

And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring isles

All populous; thence Samos is beheld,

Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.

Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed          30

Toward the West, while, situate apart,

Her sister islands face the rising day;

Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons

Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,

Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.

Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot

Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;

Ææan Circe also, skill’d profound

In potent arts, within her palace long

Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;          40

But never could they warp my constant mind.

So much our parents and our native soil

Attract us most, even although our lot

Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land.

But come—my painful voyage, such as Jove

Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate.

From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,

City of the Ciconians; them I slew,

And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth

Much spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it          50

With equal hand, and each received a share.

Next, I exhorted to immediate flight

My people; but in vain; they madly scorn’d

My sober counsel, and much wine they drank,

And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.

Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,

Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host

And braver, natives of the continent,

Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain

Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.          60

Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rs

At day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,

Misfortune found us. At the ships we stood

Piercing each other with the brazen spear,

And till the morning brighten’d into noon,

Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;

But, when the sun verged westward, then the Greeks

Fell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.

Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crew

Perish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped.          70

Thus, after loss of many, we pursued

Our course, yet, difficult as was our flight,

Went not till first we had invoked by name

Our friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.

But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soon

With a tempestuous North-wind; earth alike

And sea with storms he overhung, and night

Fell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oft

Our gallies flew, and rent, and rent again

Our tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind.          80

We, fearing instant death, within the barks

Our canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’d

At length the continent. Two nights we lay

Continual there, and two long days, consumed

With toil and grief; but when the beauteous morn

Bright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,

(Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)

Again we sat on board; meantime, the winds

Well managed by the steersman, urged us on.

And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d          90

My native shore, but, doubling in my course

Malea, waves and currents and North-winds

Constrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle.

Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borne

Athwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenth

Reach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’d

On sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,

We landed and drew water, and the crews

Beside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer.

When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d,          100

I order’d forth my people to inquire

(Two I selected from the rest, with whom

I join’d an herald, third) what race of men

Might there inhabit. They, departing, mix’d

With the Lotophagi; nor hostile aught

Or savage the Lotophagi devised

Against our friends, but offer’d to their taste

The lotus; of which fruit what man soe’er

Once tasted, no desire felt he to come

With tidings back, or seek his country more,          110

But rather wish’d to feed on lotus still

With the Lotophagi, and to renounce

All thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’d

Weeping on board, and dragging each beneath

The benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,

I urged my people to ascend again

Their hollow barks, lest others also, fed

With fruit of lotus, should forget their home.

They quick embark’d, and on the benches ranged

In order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.          120

Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’d

The land at length, where, giant-sized[32] and free

From all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.

They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,

But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for them

All fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grape

Large cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove.

No councils they convene, no laws contrive,

But in deep caverns dwell, found on the heads

Of lofty mountains, judging each supreme          130

His wife and children, heedless of the rest.

In front of the Cyclopean haven lies

A level island, not adjoining close

Their land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.

There, wild goats breed numberless, by no foot

Of man molested; never huntsman there,

Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roams

The dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;

No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,

But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil,          140

Year after year a wilderness by man

Untrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.

For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own,

Nor naval artizan is there, whose toil

Might furnish them with oary barks, by which

Subsists all distant commerce, and which bear

Man o’er the Deep to cities far remote

Who might improve the peopled isle, that seems

Not steril in itself, but apt to yield,

In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind.          150

For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lie

Green meadows moist, where vines would never fail;

Light is the land, and they might yearly reap

The tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.

Safe is its haven also, where no need

Of cable is or anchor, or to lash

The hawser fast ashore, but pushing in

His bark, the mariner might there abide

Till rising gales should tempt him forth again.

At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream          160

Issuing from a cove hemm’d all around

With poplars; down into that bay we steer’d

Amid the darkness of the night, some God

Conducting us; for all unseen it lay,

Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moon

From heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds.

Hence, none the isle descried, nor any saw

The lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ere

Our vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,

Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d,          170

And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d.

Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyes

The isle survey’d, roaming it wide around.

Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goats

Bred on the mountains, to supply with food

The partners of my toils; then, bringing forth

Bows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,

Divided all into three sep’rate bands

We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey.          180

Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry ship

Nine goats received by lot; myself alone

Selected ten. All day, till set of sun,

We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wine

Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none

Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d,

With which my people had their jars supplied

What time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus.

Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land

Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw,          190

And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.

Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all)

We slept along the shore; but when again

The rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawn

Look’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began.

Companions of my course! here rest ye all,

Save my own crew, with whom I will explore

This people, whether wild, they be, unjust,

And to contention giv’n, or well-disposed

To strangers, and a race who fear the Gods.          200

So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embark

My followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.

They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’d

Well-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.

Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we found

At its extremity, fast by the sea,

A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d above

With laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring lay

Much cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad court

Enclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn,          210

With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.

Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remote

His flocks fed solitary, converse none

Desiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.

Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,

Resembling less a man by Ceres’ gift

Sustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-crag

Tufted with wood, and standing all alone.

Enjoining, then, my people to abide

Fast by the ship which they should closely guard,          220

I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’d

With sable wine which I had erst received

From Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priest

Of Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus,

Because, through rev’rence of him, we had saved

Himself, his wife and children; for he dwelt

Amid the grove umbrageous of his God.

He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from him

Sev’n talents I received of beaten gold,

A beaker, argent all, and after these          230

No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,

Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knew

One servant, male or female, of that wine

In all his house; none knew it, save himself,

His wife, and the intendant of his stores.

Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked

A single cup with twenty from the stream,

And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroad

A scent celestial, which whoever smelt,

Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.          240

Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wine

I went, and with a wallet well supplied,

But felt a sudden presage in my soul

That, haply, with terrific force endued,

Some savage would appear, strange to the laws

And privileges of the human race.

Few steps convey’d us to his den, but him

We found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad.

His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazed

Around on all; his strainers hung with cheese          250

Distended wide; with lambs and kids his penns

Close-throng’d we saw, and folded separate

The various charge; the eldest all apart,

Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’d

Also apart. His pails and bowls with whey

Swam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d.

Me then my friends first importuned to take

A portion of his cheeses, then to drive

Forth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid bark

His kids and lambs, and plow the brine again.          260

But me they moved not, happier had they moved!

I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance,

Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,

Whose form was such, as should not much bespeak

When he appear’d, our confidence or love.

Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods,

And of his cheeses eating, patient sat

Till home he trudged from pasture. Charged he came

With dry wood bundled, an enormous load

Fuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns          270

Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth,

To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.

At once he drove into his spacious cave

His batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk,

But all the males, both rams and goats, he left

Abroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.

Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier huge

To his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weight

Not all the oxen from its place had moved

Of twenty and two wains; with such a rock          280

Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,

And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goats

All in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;

Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,

The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd

Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest

In pans and bowls—his customary drink.

His labours thus perform’d, he kindled, last,

His fuel, and discerning us, enquired,

Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore          290

Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or bound

To no one port, wander, as pirates use,

At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,

And enemies of all mankind beside?

He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growl

Of his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth,

To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied.

Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,

Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sport

For ev’ry wind, and driven from our course,          300

Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.

We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train,

The son of Atreus, at this hour the Chief

Beyond all others under heav’n renown’d,

So great a city he hath sack’d and slain

Such num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last,

Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,

Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.

Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and us

Thy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove          310

The hospitable; he their wrongs resents

And where the stranger sojourns, there is he.

I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d.

Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrived

Indeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the Gods

Lest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heeds

Jove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n.

Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,

Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstain

From thee or thine, unless my choice be such.          320

But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant bark

Our country, on thy first arrival here?

Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.

So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thus

I answer’d, penetrating his intent.

My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,

At yonder utmost promontory dash’d

In pieces, hurling her against the rocks

With winds that blew right thither from the sea,

And I, with these alone, escaped alive.          330

So I, to whom, relentless, answer none

He deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprang

Toward my people, of whom seizing two

At once, like whelps against his cavern-floor

He dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground.

These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,

And, like a mountain-lion, neither flesh

Nor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.

We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraised

Our hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost.          340

When thus the Cyclops had with human flesh

Fill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’d

Much undiluted milk, among his flocks

Out-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor.

Me, then, my courage prompted to approach

The monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,

And to transfix him where the vitals wrap

The liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.

For so, we also had incurred a death

Tremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside          350

The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouth

By force of hand alone. Thus many a sigh

Heaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length,

Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d

Look’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’d

In order, and her yeanling kid or lamb

Thrust under each. When thus he had perform’d

His wonted task, two seizing, as before,

He slew them for his next obscene regale.

His dinner ended, from the cave he drove          360

His fatted flocks abroad, moving with ease

That pond’rous barrier, and replacing it

As he had only closed a quiver’s lid.

Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocks

Toward the mountain, and me left, the while,

Deep ruminating how I best might take

Vengeance, and by the aid of Pallas win

Deathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most.

Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy club

Hewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock,          370

Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.

To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’d

Tall as the mast of a huge trading bark,

Impell’d by twenty rowers o’er the Deep.

Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk.

Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length)

I gave my men that portion, with command

To shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself,

Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,

Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close          380

The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw,

For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor.

And now I bade my people cast the lot

Who of us all should take the pointed brand,

And grind it in his eye when next he slept.

The lots were cast, and four were chosen, those

Whom most I wish’d, and I was chosen fifth.

At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocks

Pasturing homeward, and compell’d them all

Into his cavern, leaving none abroad,          390

Either through some surmise, or so inclined

By influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.

The huge rock pull’d into its place again

At the cave’s mouth, he, sitting, milk’d his sheep

And goats in order, and her kid or lamb

Thrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch’d,

Two more he seiz’d, and to his supper fell.

I then, approaching to him, thus address’d

The Cyclops, holding in my hands a cup

Of ivy-wood, well-charg’d with ruddy wine.          400

Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drink

After thy meal of man’s flesh. Taste and learn

What precious liquor our lost vessel bore.

I brought it hither, purposing to make

Libation to thee, if to pity inclined

Thou would’st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rage

Is insupportable! thou cruel one!

Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforth

Will visit thee, guilty of such excess?

I ceas’d. He took and drank, and hugely pleas’d[33]          410

With that delicious bev’rage, thus enquir’d.

Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,

Thy name, incontinent, that I may make

Requital, gratifying also thee

With somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops own

A bounteous soil, which yields us also wine

From clusters large, nourish’d by show’rs from Jove;

But this—this is from above—a stream

Of nectar and ambrosia, all divine!

He ended, and received a second draught,          420

Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,

And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumes

Began to play around the Cyclops’ brain,

With show of amity I thus replied.

Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,

Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,

The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.

My name is Outis,[34] Outis I am call’d

At home, abroad; wherever I am known.

So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied.          430

Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,

Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.

He spake, and, downward sway’d, fell resupine,

With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu’ring sleep

Soon seized him. From his gullet gush’d the wine

With human morsels mingled, many a blast

Sonorous issuing from his glutted maw.

Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-wood

Into the embers glowing on the hearth,

I heated it, and cheer’d my friends, the while,          440

Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.

But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,

Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,

I bore it to his side. Then all my aids

Around me gather’d, and the Gods infused

Heroic fortitude into our hearts.

They, seizing the hot stake rasp’d to a point,

Bored his eye with it, and myself, advanced

To a superior stand, twirled it about.

As when a shipwright with his wimble bores          450

Tough oaken timber, placed on either side

Below, his fellow-artists strain the thong

Alternate, and the restless iron spins,

So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,

We twirl’d it in his eye; the bubbling blood

Boil’d round about the brand; his pupil sent

A scalding vapour forth that sing’d his brow,

And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.

As when the smith an hatchet or large axe

Temp’ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade          460

Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)

So hiss’d his eye around the olive-wood.

The howling monster with his outcry fill’d

The hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,

Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spike

From his burnt socket, mad with anguish, cast

The implement all bloody far away.

Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the name

Of ev’ry Cyclops dwelling in the caves

Around him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops;          470

They, at his cry flocking from ev’ry part,

Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.

What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!

Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear

Of night, and break our slumbers? Fear’st thou lest

Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear’st

Thyself to die by cunning or by force?

Them answer’d, then, Polypheme from his cave.

Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.

To whom with accents wing’d his friends without.          480

If no man[35] harm thee, but thou art alone,

And sickness feel’st, it is the stroke of Jove,

And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid

Thy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.

So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh’d

That by the fiction only of a name,

Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.

Then groan’d the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,

And, fumbling, with stretch’d hands, removed the rock

From his cave’s mouth, which done, he sat him down          490

Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stop

Our egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,

It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.

I, pondering what means might fittest prove

To save from instant death, (if save I might)

My people and myself, to ev’ry shift

Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one

Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.

To me, thus meditating, this appear’d

The likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were,          500

Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.

These, silently, with osier twigs on which

The Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,

Three in one leash; the intermediate rams

Bore each a man, whom the exterior two

Preserved, concealing him on either side.

Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,

The curl’d back seizing of a ram, (for one

I had reserv’d far stateliest of them all)

Slipp’d underneath his belly, and both hands          510

Enfolding fast in his exub’rant fleece,

Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.

We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh

The sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris’n,

Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d

Again appear’d, the males of all his flocks

Rush’d forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk’d,

The wethers bleated, by the load distress’d

Of udders overcharged. Their master, rack’d

With pain intolerable, handled yet          520

The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,

But, gross of intellect, suspicion none

Conceiv’d of men beneath their bodies bound.

And now (none left beside) the ram approach’d

With his own wool burthen’d, and with myself,

Whom many a fear molested. Polypheme

The giant stroak’d him as he sat, and said,

My darling ram! why latest of the flock

Com’st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheep

Could leave behind, but stalking at their head,          530

Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,

First to arrive at the clear stream, and first

With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here

At evening; but, thy practice chang’d, thou com’st,

Now last of all. Feel’st thou regret, my ram!

Of thy poor master’s eye, by a vile wretch

Bored out, who overcame me first with wine,

And by a crew of vagabonds accurs’d,

Followers of Outis, whose escape from death

Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart          540

Were as my own, and that distinct as I

Thou could’st articulate, so should’st thou tell,

Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.

Then, dash’d against the floor his spatter’d brain

Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm

From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.

So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.

When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped

Few paces from the cavern and the court,

First, quitting my own ram, I loos’d my friends,          550

Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe

Sharp-hoof’d, we drove them swiftly to the ship.

Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came

From death escaped, but much they mourn’d the dead.

I suffer’d not their tears, but silent shook

My brows, by signs commanding them to lift

The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.

They, quick embarking, on the benches sat

Well ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood;

But distant now such length as a loud voice          560

May reach, I hail’d with taunts the Cyclops’ ear.

Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy cave

With brutal force my followers, thou devour’dst

The followers of no timid Chief, or base,

Vengeance was sure to recompense that deed

Atrocious. Monster! who wast not afraid

To eat the guest shelter’d beneath thy roof!

Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.

I ended; he, exasp’rate, raged the more,

And rending from its hold a mountain-top,          570

Hurl’d it toward us; at our vessel’s stern

Down came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fall

The rudder’s head. The ocean at the plunge

Of that huge rock, high on its refluent flood

Heav’d, irresistible, the ship to land.

I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,

Back thrust her from the coast and by a nod

In silence given, bade my companions ply

Strenuous their oars, that so we might escape.

Procumbent,[36] each obey’d, and when, the flood          580

Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,[37]

Again I hail’d the Cyclops; but my friends

Earnest dissuaded me on ev’ry side.

Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provoke

The savage more, who hath this moment hurl’d

A weapon, such as heav’d the ship again

To land, where death seem’d certain to us all?

For had he heard a cry, or but the voice

Of one man speaking, he had all our heads

With some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush’d          590

Together, such vast force is in his arm.

So they, but my courageous heart remain’d

Unmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.

Cyclops! should any mortal man inquire

To whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow’st,

Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,

Laertes’ son, native of Ithaca.

I ceas’d, and with a groan thus he replied.

Ah me! an antient oracle I feel

Accomplish’d. Here abode a prophet erst,          600

A man of noblest form, and in his art

Unrivall’d, Telemus Eurymedes.

He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,

Grew old among us, and presaged my loss

Of sight, in future, by Ulysses’ hand.

I therefore watch’d for the arrival here,

Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulk

And beauty prais’d, and cloath’d with wond’rous might.

But now—a dwarf, a thing impalpable,

A shadow, overcame me first by wine,          610

Then quench’d my sight. Come hither, O my guest!

Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheer

Awaits thee, and my pray’rs I will prefer

To glorious Neptune for thy prosp’rous course;

For I am Neptune’s offspring, and the God

Is proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,

And he alone can heal me; none beside

Of Pow’rs immortal, or of men below.

He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.

I would that of thy life and soul amerced,          620

I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,

As none shall heal thine eye—not even He.

So I; then pray’d the Cyclops to his Sire

With hands uprais’d towards the starry heav’n.

Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair’d!

If I indeed am thine, and if thou boast

Thyself my father, grant that never more

Ulysses, leveller of hostile tow’rs,

Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,

Behold his native home! but if his fate          630

Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,

His native country, let him deep distress’d

Return and late, all his companions lost,

Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,

And let affliction meet him at his door.

He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.

Then lifting from the shore a stone of size

Far more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’d

The rock, and his immeasurable force

Exerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind          640

The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,

Down came the mass. The ocean at the plunge

Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood

Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.

But when we reach’d the isle where we had left

Our num’rous barks, and where my people sat

Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return,

We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,

Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheep

Gave equal share to all. To me alone          650

My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’d

In distribution, my peculiar meed.

Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove

I offer’d on the shore, burning his thighs

In sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d rites

Reck’d not, destruction purposing to all

My barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.

Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we sat

Till even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;

But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all,          660

Then, on the shore we slept; and when again

Aurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,

Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’d

To climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.

They all obedient, took their seats on board

Well-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.

Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the Deep

With aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.

[32] So the Scholium interprets in this place, the word ὑπερθιαλος.

[33] Λινως

[34] Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from the Acta eruditorum, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It is certain that in Homer the word is declined not as ουτις-τινος which signifies no man, but as ουτις-τιδος making ουτιν in the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.

[35] Outis, as a name could only denote him who bore it; but as a noun, it signifies no man, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.

[36]

προπεσοντες

———Olli certamine summo

Procumbunt.

VIRGIL

[37] The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.

end chapter

BOOK X

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, in pursuit of his narrative, relates his arrival at the island of Æolus, his departure thence, and the unhappy occasion of his return thither. The monarch of the winds dismisses him at last with much asperity. He next tells of his arrival among the Læstrygonians, by whom his whole fleet, together with their crews, are destroyed, his own ship and crew excepted. Thence he is driven to the island of Circe. By her the half of his people are transformed into swine. Assisted by Mercury, he resists her enchantments himself, and prevails with the Goddess to recover them to their former shape. In consequence of Circe’s instructions, after having spent a complete year in her palace, he prepares for a voyage to the infernal regions.

We came to the Æolian isle; there dwells

Æolus, son of Hippotas, belov’d

By the Immortals, in an isle afloat.

A brazen wall impregnable on all sides

Girds it, and smooth its rocky coast ascends.

His children, in his own fair palace born,

Are twelve; six daughters, and six blooming sons.

He gave his daughters to his sons to wife;

They with their father hold perpetual feast

And with their royal mother, still supplied          10

With dainties numberless; the sounding dome

Is fill’d with sav’ry odours all the day,

And with their consorts chaste at night they sleep

On stateliest couches with rich arras spread.

Their city and their splendid courts we reach’d.

A month complete he, friendly, at his board

Regaled me, and enquiry made minute

Of Ilium’s fall, of the Achaian fleet,

And of our voyage thence. I told him all.

But now, desirous to embark again,          20

I ask’d dismission home, which he approved,

And well provided for my prosp’rous course.

He gave me, furnish’d by a bullock slay’d

In his ninth year, a bag; ev’ry rude blast

Which from its bottom turns the Deep, that bag

Imprison’d held; for him Saturnian Jove

Hath officed arbiter of all the winds,

To rouse their force or calm them, at his will.

He gave me them on board my bark, so bound

With silver twine that not a breath escaped,          30

Then order’d gentle Zephyrus to fill

Our sails propitious. Order vain, alas!

So fatal proved the folly of my friends.

Nine days continual, night and day we sail’d,

And on the tenth my native land appear’d.

Not far remote my Ithacans I saw

Fires kindling on the coast; but me with toil

Worn, and with watching, gentle sleep subdued;

For constant I had ruled the helm, nor giv’n

That charge to any, fearful of delay.          40

Then, in close conference combined, my crew

Each other thus bespake—He carries home

Silver and gold from Æolus received,

Offspring of Hippotas, illustrious Chief—

And thus a mariner the rest harangued.

Ye Gods! what city or what land soe’er

Ulysses visits, how is he belov’d

By all, and honour’d! many precious spoils

He homeward bears from Troy; but we return,

(We who the self-same voyage have perform’d)          50

With empty hands. Now also he hath gain’d

This pledge of friendship from the King of winds.

But come—be quick—search we the bag, and learn

What stores of gold and silver it contains.

So he, whose mischievous advice prevailed.

They loos’d the bag; forth issued all the winds,

And, caught by tempests o’er the billowy waste,

Weeping they flew, far, far from Ithaca.

I then, awaking, in my noble mind

Stood doubtful, whether from my vessel’s side          60

Immersed to perish in the flood, or calm

To endure my sorrows, and content to live.

I calm endured them; but around my head

Winding my mantle, lay’d me down below,

While adverse blasts bore all my fleet again

To the Æolian isle; then groan’d my people.

We disembark’d and drew fresh water there,

And my companions, at their galley’s sides

All seated, took repast; short meal we made,

When, with an herald and a chosen friend,          70

I sought once more the hall of Æolus.

Him banqueting with all his sons we found,

And with his spouse; we ent’ring, on the floor

Of his wide portal sat, whom they amazed

Beheld, and of our coming thus enquired.

Return’d? Ulysses! by what adverse Pow’r

Repuls’d hast thou arrived? we sent thee hence

Well-fitted forth to reach thy native isle,

Thy palace, or what place soe’er thou would’st.

So they—to whom, heart-broken, I replied.          80

My worthless crew have wrong’d me, nor alone

My worthless crew, but sleep ill-timed, as much.

Yet heal, O friends, my hurt; the pow’r is yours!

So I their favour woo’d. Mute sat the sons,

But thus their father answer’d. Hence—be gone—

Leave this our isle, thou most obnoxious wretch

Of all mankind. I should, myself, transgress,

Receiving here, and giving conduct hence

To one detested by the Gods as thou.

Away—for hated by the Gods thou com’st.          90

So saying, he sent me from his palace forth,

Groaning profound; thence, therefore, o’er the Deep

We still proceeded sorrowful, our force

Exhausting ceaseless at the toilsome oar,

And, through our own imprudence, hopeless now

Of other furth’rance to our native isle.

Six days we navigated, day and night,

The briny flood, and on the seventh reach’d

The city erst by Lamus built sublime,

Proud Læstrygonia, with the distant gates.          100

The herdsman, there, driving his cattle home,[38]

Summons the shepherd with his flocks abroad.

The sleepless there might double wages earn,

Attending, now, the herds, now, tending sheep,

For the night-pastures, and the pastures grazed

By day, close border, both, the city-walls.

To that illustrious port we came, by rocks

Uninterrupted flank’d on either side

Of tow’ring height, while prominent the shores

And bold, converging at the haven’s mouth          110

Leave narrow pass. We push’d our galleys in,

Then moor’d them side by side; for never surge

There lifts its head, or great or small, but clear

We found, and motionless, the shelter’d flood.

Myself alone, staying my bark without,

Secured her well with hawsers to a rock

At the land’s point, then climb’d the rugged steep,

And spying stood the country. Labours none

Of men or oxen in the land appear’d,

Nor aught beside saw we, but from the earth          120

Smoke rising; therefore of my friends I sent

Before me two, adding an herald third,

To learn what race of men that country fed.

Departing, they an even track pursued

Made by the waggons bringing timber down

From the high mountains to the town below.

Before the town a virgin bearing forth

Her ew’r they met, daughter of him who ruled

The Læstrygonian race, Antiphatas.

Descending from the gate, she sought the fount          130

Artacia; for their custom was to draw

From that pure fountain for the city’s use.

Approaching they accosted her, and ask’d

What King reign’d there, and over whom he reign’d.

She gave them soon to know where stood sublime

The palace of her Sire; no sooner they

The palace enter’d, than within they found,

In size resembling an huge mountain-top,

A woman, whom they shudder’d to behold.

She forth from council summon’d quick her spouse          140

Antiphatas, who teeming came with thoughts

Of carnage, and, arriving, seized at once

A Greecian, whom, next moment, he devoured.

With headlong terrour the surviving two

Fled to the ships. Then sent Antiphatas

His voice through all the town, and on all sides,

Hearing that cry, the Læstrygonians flock’d

Numberless, and in size resembling more

The giants than mankind. They from the rocks

Cast down into our fleet enormous stones,          150

A strong man’s burthen each; dire din arose

Of shatter’d galleys and of dying men,

Whom spear’d like fishes to their home they bore,

A loathsome prey. While them within the port

They slaughter’d, I, (the faulchion at my side

Drawn forth) cut loose the hawser of my ship,

And all my crew enjoin’d with bosoms laid

Prone on their oars, to fly the threaten’d woe.

They, dreading instant death tugg’d resupine

Together, and the galley from beneath          160

Those beetling[39] rocks into the open sea

Shot gladly; but the rest all perish’d there.

Proceeding thence, we sigh’d, and roamed the waves,

Glad that we lived, but sorrowing for the slain.

We came to the Ææan isle; there dwelt

The awful Circe, Goddess amber-hair’d,

Deep-skill’d in magic song, sister by birth

Of the all-wise Æætes; them the Sun,

Bright luminary of the world, begat

On Perse, daughter of Oceanus.          170

Our vessel there, noiseless, we push’d to land

Within a spacious haven, thither led

By some celestial Pow’r. We disembark’d,

And on the coast two days and nights entire

Extended lay, worn with long toil, and each

The victim of his heart-devouring woes.

Then, with my spear and with my faulchion arm’d,

I left the ship to climb with hasty steps

An airy height, thence, hoping to espie

Some works of man, or hear, perchance, a voice.          180

Exalted on a rough rock’s craggy point

I stood, and on the distant plain, beheld

Smoke which from Circe’s palace through the gloom

Of trees and thickets rose. That smoke discern’d,

I ponder’d next if thither I should haste,

Seeking intelligence. Long time I mused,

But chose at last, as my discreter course,

To seek the sea-beach and my bark again,

And, when my crew had eaten, to dispatch

Before me, others, who should first enquire.          190

But, ere I yet had reach’d my gallant bark,

Some God with pity viewing me alone

In that untrodden solitude, sent forth

An antler’d stag, full-sized, into my path.

His woodland pastures left, he sought the stream,

For he was thirsty, and already parch’d

By the sun’s heat. Him issuing from his haunt,

Sheer through the back beneath his middle spine,

I wounded, and the lance sprang forth beyond.

Moaning he fell, and in the dust expired.          200

Then, treading on his breathless trunk, I pluck’d

My weapon forth, which leaving there reclined,

I tore away the osiers with my hands

And fallows green, and to a fathom’s length

Twisting the gather’d twigs into a band,

Bound fast the feet of my enormous prey,

And, flinging him athwart my neck, repair’d

Toward my sable bark, propp’d on my lance,

Which now to carry shoulder’d as before

Surpass’d my pow’r, so bulky was the load.          210

Arriving at the ship, there I let fall

My burthen, and with pleasant speech and kind,

Man after man addressing, cheer’d my crew.

My friends! we suffer much, but shall not seek

The shades, ere yet our destined hour arrive.

Behold a feast! and we have wine on board—

Pine not with needless famine! rise and eat.

I spake; they readily obey’d, and each

Issuing at my word abroad, beside

The galley stood, admiring, as he lay,          220

The stag, for of no common bulk was he.

At length, their eyes gratified to the full

With that glad spectacle, they laved their hands,

And preparation made of noble cheer.

That day complete, till set of sun, we spent

Feasting deliciously without restraint,

And quaffing generous wine; but when the sun

Went down, and darkness overshadow’d all,

Extended, then, on Ocean’s bank we lay;

And when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,          230

Look’d rosy forth, convening all my crew

To council, I arose, and thus began.

My fellow-voyagers, however worn

With num’rous hardships, hear! for neither West

Know ye, nor East, where rises, or where sets

The all-enlight’ning sun. But let us think,

If thought perchance may profit us, of which

Small hope I see; for when I lately climb’d

Yon craggy rock, plainly I could discern

The land encompass’d by the boundless Deep.          240

The isle is flat, and in the midst I saw

Dun smoke ascending from an oaken bow’r.

So I, whom hearing, they all courage lost,

And at remembrance of Antiphatas

The Læstrygonian, and the Cyclops’ deeds,

Ferocious feeder on the flesh of man,

Mourn’d loud and wept, but tears could nought avail.

Then numb’ring man by man, I parted them

In equal portions, and assign’d a Chief

To either band, myself to these, to those          250

Godlike Eurylochus. This done, we cast

The lots into the helmet, and at once

Forth sprang the lot of bold Eurylochus.

He went, and with him of my people march’d

Twenty and two, all weeping; nor ourselves

Wept less, at separation from our friends.

Low in a vale, but on an open spot,

They found the splendid house of Circe, built

With hewn and polish’d stones; compass’d she dwelt

By lions on all sides and mountain-wolves          260

Tamed by herself with drugs of noxious pow’rs.

Nor were they mischievous, but as my friends

Approach’d, arising on their hinder feet,

Paw’d them in blandishment, and wagg’d the tail.

As, when from feast he rises, dogs around

Their master fawn, accustom’d to receive

The sop conciliatory from his hand,

Around my people, so, those talon’d wolves

And lions fawn’d. They, terrified, that troop

Of savage monsters horrible beheld.          270

And now, before the Goddess’ gates arrived,

They heard the voice of Circe singing sweet

Within, while, busied at the loom, she wove

An ample web immortal, such a work

Transparent, graceful, and of bright design

As hands of Goddesses alone produce.

Thus then Polites, Prince of men, the friend

Highest in my esteem, the rest bespake.

Ye hear the voice, comrades, of one who weaves

An ample web within, and at her task          280

So sweetly chaunts that all the marble floor

Re-echoes; human be she or divine

I doubt, but let us call, that we may learn.

He ceas’d; they call’d; soon issuing at the sound,

The Goddess open’d wide her splendid gates,

And bade them in; they, heedless, all complied,

All save Eurylochus, who fear’d a snare.

She, introducing them, conducted each

To a bright throne, then gave them Pramnian wine,

With grated cheese, pure meal, and honey new,          290

But medicated with her pois’nous drugs

Their food, that in oblivion they might lose

The wish of home. She gave them, and they drank,—

When, smiting each with her enchanting wand,

She shut them in her sties. In head, in voice,

In body, and in bristles they became

All swine, yet intellected as before,

And at her hand were dieted alone

With acorns, chestnuts, and the cornel-fruit,

Food grateful ever to the grovelling swine.          300

Back flew Eurylochus toward the ship,

To tell the woeful tale; struggling to speak,

Yet speechless, there he stood, his heart transfixt

With anguish, and his eyes deluged with tears.

Me boding terrours occupied. At length,

When, gazing on him, all had oft enquired,

He thus rehearsed to us the dreadful change.

Renown’d Ulysses! as thou bad’st, we went

Through yonder oaks; there, bosom’d in a vale,

But built conspicuous on a swelling knoll          310

With polish’d rock, we found a stately dome.

Within, some Goddess or some woman wove

An ample web, carolling sweet the while.

They call’d aloud; she, issuing at the voice,

Unfolded, soon, her splendid portals wide,

And bade them in. Heedless they enter’d, all,

But I remain’d, suspicious of a snare.

Ere long the whole band vanish’d, none I saw

Thenceforth, though, seated there, long time I watch’d.

He ended; I my studded faulchion huge          320

Athwart my shoulder cast, and seized my bow,

Then bade him lead me thither by the way

Himself had gone; but with both hands my knees

He clasp’d, and in wing’d accents sad exclaim’d.

My King! ah lead me not unwilling back,

But leave me here; for confident I judge

That neither thou wilt bring another thence,

Nor come thyself again. Haste—fly we swift

With these, for we, at least, may yet escape.

So he, to whom this answer I return’d.          330

Eurylochus! abiding here, eat thou

And drink thy fill beside the sable bark;

I go; necessity forbids my stay.

So saying, I left the galley and the shore.

But ere that awful vale ent’ring, I reach’d

The palace of the sorceress, a God

Met me, the bearer of the golden wand,

Hermes. He seem’d a stripling in his prime,

His cheeks cloath’d only with their earliest down,

For youth is then most graceful; fast he lock’d          340

His hand in mine, and thus, familiar, spake.

Unhappy! whither, wand’ring o’er the hills,

Stranger to all this region, and alone,

Go’st thou? Thy people—they within the walls

Are shut of Circe, where as swine close-pent

She keeps them. Comest thou to set them free?

I tell thee, never wilt thou thence return

Thyself, but wilt be prison’d with the rest.

Yet hearken—I will disappoint her wiles,

And will preserve thee. Take this precious drug;          350

Possessing this, enter the Goddess’ house

Boldly, for it shall save thy life from harm.

Lo! I reveal to thee the cruel arts

Of Circe; learn them. She will mix for thee

A potion, and will also drug thy food

With noxious herbs; but she shall not prevail

By all her pow’r to change thee; for the force

Superior of this noble plant, my gift,

Shall baffle her. Hear still what I advise.

When she shall smite thee with her slender rod,          360

With faulchion drawn and with death-threat’ning looks

Rush on her; she will bid thee to her bed

Affrighted; then beware. Decline not thou

Her love, that she may both release thy friends,

And may with kindness entertain thyself.

But force her swear the dreaded oath of heav’n

That she will other mischief none devise

Against thee, lest she strip thee of thy might,

And, quenching all thy virtue, make thee vile.

So spake the Argicide, and from the earth          370

That plant extracting, placed it in my hand,

Then taught me all its pow’rs. Black was the root,

Milk-white the blossom; Moly is its name

In heav’n; not easily by mortal man

Dug forth, but all is easy to the Gods.

Then, Hermes through the island-woods repair’d

To heav’n, and I to Circe’s dread abode,

In gloomy musings busied as I went.

Within the vestibule arrived, where dwelt

The beauteous Goddess, staying there my steps,          380

I call’d aloud; she heard me, and at once

Issuing, threw her splendid portals wide,

And bade me in. I follow’d, heart-distress’d.

Leading me by the hand to a bright throne

With argent studs embellish’d, and beneath

Footstool’d magnificent, she made me sit.

Then mingling for me in a golden cup

My bev’rage, she infused a drug, intent

On mischief; but when I had drunk the draught

Unchanged, she smote me with her wand, and said.          390

Hence—seek the sty. There wallow with thy friends.

She spake; I drawing from beside my thigh

My faulchion keen, with death-denouncing looks

Rush’d on her; she with a shrill scream of fear

Ran under my rais’d arm, seized fast my knees,

And in wing’d accents plaintive thus began.

Who? whence? thy city and thy birth declare.

Amazed I see thee with that potion drench’d,

Yet uninchanted; never man before

Once pass’d it through his lips, and liv’d the same;          400

But in thy breast a mind inhabits, proof

Against all charms. Come then—I know thee well.

Thou art Ulysses artifice-renown’d,

Of whose arrival here in his return

From Ilium, Hermes of the golden wand

Was ever wont to tell me. Sheath again

Thy sword, and let us, on my bed reclined,

Mutual embrace, that we may trust thenceforth

Each other, without jealousy or fear.

The Goddess spake, to whom I thus replied.          410

O Circe! canst thou bid me meek become

And gentle, who beneath thy roof detain’st

My fellow-voyagers transform’d to swine?

And, fearing my escape, invit’st thou me

Into thy bed, with fraudulent pretext

Of love, that there, enfeebling by thy arts

My noble spirit, thou may’st make me vile?

No—trust me—never will I share thy bed

Till first, O Goddess, thou consent to swear

The dread all-binding oath, that other harm          420

Against myself thou wilt imagine none.

I spake. She swearing as I bade, renounced

All evil purpose, and (her solemn oath

Concluded) I ascended, next, her bed

Magnificent. Meantime, four graceful nymphs

Attended on the service of the house,

Her menials, from the fountains sprung and groves,

And from the sacred streams that seek the sea.

Of these, one cast fine linen on the thrones,

Which, next, with purple arras rich she spread;          430

Another placed before the gorgeous seats

Bright tables, and set on baskets of gold.

The third, an argent beaker fill’d with wine

Delicious, which in golden cups she served;

The fourth brought water, which she warm’d within

An ample vase, and when the simm’ring flood

Sang in the tripod, led me to a bath,

And laved me with the pleasant stream profuse

Pour’d o’er my neck and body, till my limbs

Refresh’d, all sense of lassitude resign’d.          440

When she had bathed me, and with limpid oil

Anointed me, and cloathed me in a vest

And mantle, next, she led me to a throne

Of royal state, with silver studs emboss’d,

And footstool’d soft beneath; then came a nymph

With golden ewer charged and silver bowl,

Who pour’d pure water on my hands, and placed

The polish’d board before me, which with food

Various, selected from her present stores,

The cat’ress spread, then, courteous, bade me eat.          450

But me it pleas’d not; with far other thoughts

My spirit teem’d, on vengeance more intent.

Soon, then, as Circe mark’d me on my seat

Fast-rooted, sullen, nor with outstretch’d hands

Deigning to touch the banquet, she approach’d,

And in wing’d accents suasive thus began.

Why sits Ulysses like the Dumb, dark thoughts

His only food? loaths he the touch of meat,

And taste of wine? Thou fear’st, as I perceive,

Some other snare, but idle is that fear,          460

For I have sworn the inviolable oath.

She ceas’d, to whom this answer I return’d.

How can I eat? what virtuous man and just,

O Circe! could endure the taste of wine

Or food, till he should see his prison’d friends

Once more at liberty? If then thy wish

That I should eat and drink be true, produce

My captive people; let us meet again.

So I; then Circe, bearing in her hand

Her potent rod, went forth, and op’ning wide          470

The door, drove out my people from the sty,

In bulk resembling brawns of the ninth year.

They stood before me; she through all the herd

Proceeding, with an unctuous antidote

Anointed each, and at the wholesome touch

All shed the swinish bristles by the drug

Dread Circe’s former magic gift, produced.

Restored at once to manhood, they appear’d

More vig’rous far, and sightlier than before.

They knew me, and with grasp affectionate          480

Hung on my hand. Tears follow’d, but of joy,

And with loud cries the vaulted palace rang.

Even the awful Goddess felt, herself,

Compassion, and, approaching me, began.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Hence to the shore, and to thy gallant bark;

First, hale her safe aground, then, hiding all

Your arms and treasures in the caverns, come

Thyself again, and hither lead thy friends.

So spake the Goddess, and my gen’rous mind          490

Persuaded; thence repairing to the beach,

I sought my ship; arrived, I found my crew

Lamenting miserably, and their cheeks

With tears bedewing ceaseless at her side.

As when the calves within some village rear’d

Behold, at eve, the herd returning home

From fruitful meads where they have grazed their fill,

No longer in the stalls contain’d, they rush

With many a frisk abroad, and, blaring oft,

With one consent, all dance their dams around,          500

So they, at sight of me, dissolved in tears

Of rapt’rous joy, and each his spirit felt

With like affections warm’d as he had reach’d

Just then his country, and his city seen,

Fair Ithaca, where he was born and rear’d.

Then in wing’d accents tender thus they spake.

Noble Ulysses! thy appearance fills

Our soul with transports, such as we should feel

Arrived in safety on our native shore.

Speak—say how perish’d our unhappy friends?          510

So they; to whom this answer mild I gave.

Hale we our vessel first ashore, and hide

In caverns all our treasures and our arms,

Then, hasting hence, follow me, and ere long

Ye shall behold your friends, beneath the roof

Of Circe banqueting and drinking wine

Abundant, for no dearth attends them there.

So I; whom all with readiness obey’d,

All save Eurylochus; he sought alone

To stay the rest, and, eager, interposed.          520

Ah whither tend we, miserable men?

Why covet ye this evil, to go down

To Circe’s palace? she will change us all

To lions, wolves or swine, that we may guard

Her palace, by necessity constrain’d.

So some were pris’ners of the Cyclops erst,

When, led by rash Ulysses, our lost friends

Intruded needlessly into his cave,

And perish’d by the folly of their Chief.

He spake, whom hearing, occupied I stood          530

In self-debate, whether, my faulchion keen

Forth-drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,

To tumble his lopp’d head into the dust,

Although he were my kinsman in the bonds

Of close affinity; but all my friends

As with one voice, thus gently interposed.

Noble Ulysses! we will leave him here

Our vessel’s guard, if such be thy command,

But us lead thou to Circe’s dread abode.

So saying, they left the galley, and set forth          540

Climbing the coast; nor would Eurylochus

Beside the hollow bark remain, but join’d

His comrades by my dreadful menace awed.

Meantime the Goddess, busily employ’d,

Bathed and refresh’d my friends with limpid oil,

And clothed them. We, arriving, found them all

Banqueting in the palace; there they met;

These ask’d, and those rehearsed the wond’rous tale,

And, the recital made, all wept aloud

Till the wide dome resounded. Then approach’d          550

The graceful Goddess, and address’d me thus.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Provoke ye not each other, now, to tears.

I am not ignorant, myself, how dread

Have been your woes both on the fishy Deep,

And on the land by force of hostile pow’rs.

But come—Eat now, and drink ye wine, that so

Your freshen’d spirit may revive, and ye

Courageous grow again, as when ye left

The rugged shores of Ithaca, your home.          560

For now, through recollection, day by day,

Of all your pains and toils, ye are become

Spiritless, strengthless, and the taste forget

Of pleasure, such have been your num’rous woes.

She spake, whose invitation kind prevail’d,

And won us to her will. There, then, we dwelt

The year complete, fed with delicious fare

Day after day, and quaffing gen’rous wine.

But when (the year fulfill’d) the circling hours

Their course resumed, and the successive months          570

With all their tedious days were spent, my friends,

Summoning me abroad, thus greeted me.

Sir! recollect thy country, if indeed

The fates ordain thee to revisit safe

That country, and thy own glorious abode.

So they; whose admonition I receiv’d

Well-pleas’d. Then, all the day, regaled we sat

At Circe’s board with sav’ry viands rare,

And quaffing richest wine; but when, the sun

Declining, darkness overshadow’d all,          580

Then, each within the dusky palace took

Custom’d repose, and to the Goddess’ bed

Magnificent ascending, there I urged

My earnest suit, which gracious she receiv’d,

And in wing’d accents earnest thus I spake.

O Circe! let us prove thy promise true;

Dismiss us hence. My own desires, at length,

Tend homeward vehement, and the desires

No less of all my friends, who with complaints

Unheard by thee, wear my sad heart away.          590

So I; to whom the Goddess in return.

Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses famed

For deepest wisdom! dwell not longer here,

Thou and thy followers, in my abode

Reluctant; but your next must be a course

Far diff’rent; hence departing, ye must seek

The dreary house of Ades and of dread

Persephone there to consult the Seer

Theban Tiresias, prophet blind, but blest

With faculties which death itself hath spared.          600

To him alone, of all the dead, Hell’s Queen

Gives still to prophesy, while others flit

Mere forms, the shadows of what once they were.

She spake, and by her words dash’d from my soul

All courage; weeping on the bed I sat,

Reckless of life and of the light of day.

But when, with tears and rolling to and fro

Satiate, I felt relief, thus I replied.

O Circe! with what guide shall I perform

This voyage, unperform’d by living man?          610

I spake, to whom the Goddess quick replied.

Brave Laertiades! let not the fear

To want a guide distress thee. Once on board,

Your mast erected, and your canvas white

Unfurl’d, sit thou; the breathing North shall waft

Thy vessel on. But when ye shall have cross’d

The broad expanse of Ocean, and shall reach

The oozy shore, where grow the poplar groves

And fruitless willows wan of Proserpine,

Push thither through the gulphy Deep thy bark,          620

And, landing, haste to Pluto’s murky abode.

There, into Acheron runs not alone

Dread Pyriphlegethon, but Cocytus loud,

From Styx derived; there also stands a rock,

At whose broad base the roaring rivers meet.

There, thrusting, as I bid, thy bark ashore,

O Hero! scoop the soil, op’ning a trench

Ell-broad on ev’ry side; then pour around

Libation consecrate to all the dead,

First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine,          630

Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all.

Next, supplicate the unsubstantial forms

Fervently of the dead, vowing to slay,

(Return’d to Ithaca) in thy own house,

An heifer barren yet, fairest and best

Of all thy herds, and to enrich the pile

With delicacies such as please the shades;

But, in peculiar, to Tiresias vow

A sable ram, noblest of all thy flocks.

When thus thou hast propitiated with pray’r          640

All the illustrious nations of the dead,

Next, thou shalt sacrifice to them a ram

And sable ewe, turning the face of each

Right toward Erebus, and look thyself,

Meantime, askance toward the river’s course.

Souls num’rous, soon, of the departed dead

Will thither flock; then, strenuous urge thy friends,

Flaying the victims which thy ruthless steel

Hath slain, to burn them, and to sooth by pray’r

Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.          650

While thus is done, thou seated at the foss,

Faulchion in hand, chace thence the airy forms

Afar, nor suffer them to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias thou have first conferr’d.

Then, glorious Chief! the Prophet shall himself

Appear, who will instruct thee, and thy course

Delineate, measuring from place to place

Thy whole return athwart the fishy flood.

While thus she spake, the golden dawn arose,

When, putting on me my attire, the nymph          660

Next, cloath’d herself, and girding to her waist

With an embroider’d zone her snowy robe

Graceful, redundant, veil’d her beauteous head.

Then, ranging the wide palace, I aroused

My followers, standing at the side of each—

Up! sleep no longer! let us quick depart,

For thus the Goddess hath, herself, advised.

So I, whose early summons my brave friends

With readiness obey’d. Yet even thence

I brought not all my crew. There was a youth,          670

Youngest of all my train, Elpenor; one

Not much in estimation for desert

In arms, nor prompt in understanding more,

Who overcharged with wine, and covetous

Of cooler air, high on the palace-roof

Of Circe slept, apart from all the rest.

Awaken’d by the clamour of his friends

Newly arisen, he also sprang to rise,

And in his haste, forgetful where to find

The deep-descending stairs, plunged through the roof.          680

With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ

Outstretch’d he lay; his spirit sought the shades.

Then, thus to my assembling friends I spake.

Ye think, I doubt not, of an homeward course,

But Circe points me to the drear abode

Of Proserpine and Pluto, to consult

The spirit of Tiresias, Theban seer.

I ended, and the hearts of all alike

Felt consternation; on the earth they sat

Disconsolate, and plucking each his hair,          690

Yet profit none of all their sorrow found.

But while we sought my galley on the beach

With tepid tears bedewing, as we went,

Our cheeks, meantime the Goddess to the shore

Descending, bound within the bark a ram

And sable ewe, passing us unperceived.

For who hath eyes that can discern a God

Going or coming, if he shun the view?

[38] It is supposed by Eustathius that the pastures being infested by gad flies and other noxious insects in the day-time, they drove their sheep a-field in the morning, which by their wool were defended from them, and their cattle in the evening, when the insects had withdrawn. It is one of the few passages in Homer that must lie at the mercy of conjecture.

[39] The word has the authority of Shakspeare, and signifies overhanging.

end chapter

BOOK XI

ARGUMENT

Ulysses relates to Alcinoüs his voyage to the infernal regions, his conference there with the prophet Tiresias concerning his return to Ithaca, and gives him an account of the heroes, heroines, and others whom he saw there.

Arriving on the shore, and launching, first,

Our bark into the sacred Deep, we set

Our mast and sails, and stow’d secure on board

The ram and ewe, then, weeping, and with hearts

Sad and disconsolate, embark’d ourselves.

And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,

Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,

Pleasant companion of our course, and we

(The decks and benches clear’d) untoiling sat,

While managed gales sped swift the bark along.          10

All day, with sails distended, e’er the Deep

She flew, and when the sun, at length, declined,

And twilight dim had shadow’d all the ways,

Approach’d the bourn of Ocean’s vast profound.

The city, there, of the Cimmerians stands

With clouds and darkness veil’d, on whom the sun

Deigns not to look with his beam-darting eye,

Or when he climbs the starry arch, or when

Earthward he slopes again his west’ring wheels,[40]

But sad night canopies the woeful race.          20

We haled the bark aground, and, landing there

The ram and sable ewe, journey’d beside

The Deep, till we arrived where Circe bade.

Here, Perimedes’ son Eurylochus

Held fast the destined sacrifice, while I

Scoop’d with my sword the soil, op’ning a trench

Ell-broad on ev’ry side, then pour’d around

Libation consecrate to all the dead,

First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine,

Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all.          30

This done, adoring the unreal forms

And shadows of the dead, I vow’d to slay,

(Return’d to Ithaca) in my own abode,

An heifer barren yet, fairest and best

Of all my herds, and to enrich the pile

With delicacies, such as please the shades.

But, in peculiar, to the Theban seer

I vow’d a sable ram, largest and best

Of all my flocks. When thus I had implored

With vows and pray’r, the nations of the dead,          40

Piercing the victims next, I turn’d them both

To bleed into the trench; then swarming came

From Erebus the shades of the deceased,

Brides, youths unwedded, seniors long with woe

Oppress’d, and tender girls yet new to grief.

Came also many a warrior by the spear

In battle pierced, with armour gore-distain’d,

And all the multitude around the foss

Stalk’d shrieking dreadful; me pale horror seized.

I next, importunate, my people urged,          50

Flaying the victims which myself had slain,

To burn them, and to supplicate in pray’r

Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.

Then down I sat, and with drawn faulchion chased

The ghosts, nor suffer’d them to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias I should first confer.

The spirit, first, of my companion came,

Elpenor; for no burial honours yet

Had he received, but we had left his corse

In Circe’s palace, tombless, undeplored,          60

Ourselves by pressure urged of other cares.

Touch’d with compassion seeing him, I wept,

And in wing’d accents brief him thus bespake.

Elpenor! how cam’st thou into the realms

Of darkness? Hast thou, though on foot, so far

Outstripp’d my speed, who in my bark arrived?

So I, to whom with tears he thus replied.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Fool’d by some dæmon and the intemp’rate bowl,

I perish’d in the house of Circe; there          70

The deep-descending steps heedless I miss’d,

And fell precipitated from the roof.

With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ

Outstretch’d I lay; my spirit sought the shades.

But now, by those whom thou hast left at home,

By thy Penelope, and by thy fire,

The gentle nourisher of thy infant growth,

And by thy only son Telemachus

I make my suit to thee. For, sure, I know

That from the house of Pluto safe return’d,          80

Thou shalt ere long thy gallant vessel moor

At the Ææan isle. Ah! there arrived

Remember me. Leave me not undeplored

Nor uninhumed, lest, for my sake, the Gods

In vengeance visit thee; but with my arms

(What arms soe’er I left) burn me, and raise

A kind memorial of me on the coast,

Heap’d high with earth; that an unhappy man

May yet enjoy an unforgotten name.

Thus do at my request, and on my hill          90

Funereal, plant the oar with which I row’d,

While yet I lived a mariner of thine.

He spake, to whom thus answer I return’d.

Poor youth! I will perform thy whole desire.

Thus we, there sitting, doleful converse held,

With outstretch’d faulchion, I, guarding the blood,

And my companion’s shadowy semblance sad

Meantime discoursing me on various themes.

The soul of my departed mother, next,

Of Anticleia came, daughter of brave          100

Autolycus; whom, when I sought the shores

Of Ilium, I had living left at home.

Seeing her, with compassion touch’d, I wept,

Yet even her, (although it pain’d my soul)

Forbad, relentless, to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias I should first confer.

Then came the spirit of the Theban seer

Himself, his golden sceptre in his hand,

Who knew me, and, enquiring, thus began.

Why, hapless Chief! leaving the cheerful day,          110

Arriv’st thou to behold the dead, and this

Unpleasant land? but, from the trench awhile

Receding, turn thy faulchion keen away,

That I may drink the blood, and tell thee truth.

He spake; I thence receding, deep infix’d

My sword bright-studded in the sheath again.

The noble prophet then, approaching, drank

The blood, and, satisfied, address’d me thus.

Thou seek’st a pleasant voyage home again,

Renown’d Ulysses! but a God will make          120

That voyage difficult; for, as I judge,

Thou wilt not pass by Neptune unperceiv’d,

Whose anger follows thee, for that thou hast

Deprived his son Cyclops of his eye.

At length, however, after num’rous woes

Endur’d, thou may’st attain thy native isle,

If thy own appetite thou wilt controul

And theirs who follow thee, what time thy bark

Well-built, shall at Thrinacia’s shore arrive,[41]

Escaped from perils of the gloomy Deep.          130

There shall ye find grazing the flocks and herds

Of the all-seeing and all-hearing Sun,

Which, if attentive to thy safe return,

Thou leave unharm’d, though after num’rous woes,

Ye may at length arrive in Ithaca.

But if thou violate them, I denounce

Destruction on thy ship and all thy band,

And though thyself escape, late shalt thou reach

Thy home and hard-bested,[42] in a strange bark,

All thy companions lost; trouble beside          140

Awaits thee there, for thou shalt find within

Proud suitors of thy noble wife, who waste

Thy substance, and with promis’d spousal gifts

Ceaseless solicit her to wed; yet well

Shalt thou avenge all their injurious deeds.

That once perform’d, and ev’ry suitor slain

Either by stratagem, or face to face,

In thy own palace, bearing, as thou go’st,

A shapely oar, journey, till thou hast found

A people who the sea know not, nor eat          150

Food salted; they trim galley crimson prow’d

Have ne’er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar,

With which the vessel wing’d scuds o’er the waves.

Well thou shalt know them; this shall be the sign—

When thou shalt meet a trav’ler, who shall name

The oar on thy broad shoulder borne, a van,[43]

There, deep infixing it within the soil,

Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,

A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek

Thy home again, and sacrifice at home          160

An hecatomb to the Immortal Gods,

Adoring each duly, and in his course.

So shalt thou die in peace a gentle death,

Remote from Ocean; it shall find thee late,

In soft serenity of age, the Chief

Of a blest people.—I have told thee truth.

He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.

Tiresias! thou, I doubt not, hast reveal’d

The ordinance of heav’n. But tell me, Seer!

And truly. I behold my mother’s shade;          170

Silent she sits beside the blood, nor word

Nor even look vouchsafes to her own son.

How shall she learn, prophet, that I am her’s?

So I, to whom Tiresias quick replied.

The course is easy. Learn it, taught by me.

What shade soe’er, by leave of thee obtain’d,

Shall taste the blood, that shade will tell thee truth;

The rest, prohibited, will all retire.

When thus the spirit of the royal Seer

Had his prophetic mind reveal’d, again          180

He enter’d Pluto’s gates; but I unmoved

Still waited till my mother’s shade approach’d;

She drank the blood, then knew me, and in words

Wing’d with affection, plaintive, thus began.

My son! how hast thou enter’d, still alive,

This darksome region? Difficult it is

For living man to view the realms of death.

Broad rivers roll, and awful floods between,

But chief, the Ocean, which to pass on foot,

Or without ship, impossible is found.          190

Hast thou, long wand’ring in thy voyage home

From Ilium, with thy ship and crew arrived,

Ithaca and thy consort yet unseen?

She spake, to whom this answer I return’d.

My mother! me necessity constrain’d

To Pluto’s dwelling, anxious to consult

Theban Tiresias; for I have not yet

Approach’d Achaia, nor have touch’d the shore

Of Ithaca, but suff’ring ceaseless woe

Have roam’d, since first in Agamemnon’s train          200

I went to combat with the sons of Troy.

But speak, my mother, and the truth alone;

What stroke of fate slew thee? Fell’st thou a prey

To some slow malady? or by the shafts

Of gentle Dian suddenly subdued?

Speak to me also of my ancient Sire,

And of Telemachus, whom I left at home;

Possess I still unalienate and safe

My property, or hath some happier Chief

Admittance free into my fortunes gain’d,          210

No hope subsisting more of my return?

The mind and purpose of my wedded wife

Declare thou also. Dwells she with our son

Faithful to my domestic interests,

Or is she wedded to some Chief of Greece?

I ceas’d, when thus the venerable shade.

Not so; she faithful still and patient dwells

Thy roof beneath; but all her days and nights

Devoting sad to anguish and to tears.

Thy fortunes still are thine; Telemachus          220

Cultivates, undisturb’d, thy land, and sits

At many a noble banquet, such as well

Beseems the splendour of his princely state,

For all invite him; at his farm retired

Thy father dwells, nor to the city comes,

For aught; nor bed, nor furniture of bed,

Furr’d cloaks or splendid arras he enjoys,

But, with his servile hinds all winter sleeps

In ashes and in dust at the hearth-side,

Coarsely attired; again, when summer comes,          230

Or genial autumn, on the fallen leaves

In any nook, not curious where, he finds

There, stretch’d forlorn, nourishing grief, he weeps

Thy lot, enfeebled now by num’rous years.

So perish’d I; such fate I also found;

Me, neither the right-aiming arch’ress struck,

Diana, with her gentle shafts, nor me

Distemper slew, my limbs by slow degrees

But sure, bereaving of their little life,          240

But long regret, tender solicitude,

And recollection of thy kindness past,

These, my Ulysses! fatal proved to me.

She said; I, ardent wish’d to clasp the shade

Of my departed mother; thrice I sprang

Toward her, by desire impetuous urged,

And thrice she flitted from between my arms,

Light as a passing shadow or a dream.

Then, pierced by keener grief, in accents wing’d

With filial earnestness I thus replied.          250

My mother, why elud’st thou my attempt

To clasp thee, that ev’n here, in Pluto’s realm,

We might to full satiety indulge

Our grief, enfolded in each other’s arms?

Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch’d

A shadow to me, to augment my woe?

Then, instant, thus the venerable form.

Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!

On thee, Jove’s daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes

No airy semblance vain; but such the state          260

And nature is of mortals once deceased.

For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;

All those (the spirit from the body once

Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,

And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.

But haste thou back to light, and, taught thyself

These sacred truths, hereafter teach thy spouse.

Thus mutual we conferr’d. Then, thither came,

Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,

Shades female num’rous, all who consorts, erst,          270

Or daughters were of mighty Chiefs renown’d.

About the sable blood frequent they swarm’d.

But I, consid’ring sat, how I might each

Interrogate, and thus resolv’d. My sword

Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,

Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink

The blood together; they successive came;

Each told her own distress; I question’d all.

There, first, the high-born Tyro I beheld;

She claim’d Salmoneus as her sire, and wife          280

Was once of Cretheus, son of Æolus.

Enamour’d of Enipeus, stream divine,

Loveliest of all that water earth, beside

His limpid current she was wont to stray,

When Ocean’s God, (Enipeus’ form assumed)

Within the eddy-whirling river’s mouth

Embraced her; there, while the o’er-arching flood,

Uplifted mountainous, conceal’d the God

And his fair human bride, her virgin zone

He loos’d, and o’er her eyes sweet sleep diffused.          290

His am’rous purpose satisfied, he grasp’d

Her hand, affectionate, and thus he said.

Rejoice in this my love, and when the year

Shall tend to consummation of its course,

Thou shalt produce illustrious twins, for love

Immortal never is unfruitful love.

Rear them with all a mother’s care; meantime,

Hence to thy home. Be silent. Name it not.

For I am Neptune, Shaker of the shores.

So saying, he plunged into the billowy Deep.          300

She pregnant grown, Pelias and Neleus bore,

Both, valiant ministers of mighty Jove.

In wide-spread Iäolchus Pelias dwelt,

Of num’rous flocks possess’d; but his abode

Amid the sands of Pylus Neleus chose.

To Cretheus wedded next, the lovely nymph

Yet other sons, Æson and Pheres bore,

And Amythaon of equestrian fame.

I, next, the daughter of Asopus saw,

Antiope; she gloried to have known          310

Th’ embrace of Jove himself, to whom she brought

A double progeny, Amphion named

And Zethus; they the seven-gated Thebes

Founded and girded with strong tow’rs, because,

Though puissant Heroes both, in spacious Thebes

Unfenced by tow’rs, they could not dwell secure.

Alcmena, next, wife of Amphitryon

I saw; she in the arms of sov’reign Jove

The lion-hearted Hercules conceiv’d,

And, after, bore to Creon brave in fight          320

His daughter Megara, by the noble son

Unconquer’d of Amphitryon espoused.

The beauteous Epicaste[44] saw I then,

Mother of Oedipus, who guilt incurr’d

Prodigious, wedded, unintentional,

To her own son; his father first he slew,

Then wedded her, which soon the Gods divulged.

He, under vengeance of offended heav’n,

In pleasant Thebes dwelt miserable, King

Of the Cadmean race; she to the gates          330

Of Ades brazen-barr’d despairing went,

Self-strangled by a cord fasten’d aloft

To her own palace-roof, and woes bequeath’d

(Such as the Fury sisters execute

Innumerable) to her guilty son.

There also saw I Chloris, loveliest fair,

Whom Neleus woo’d and won with spousal gifts

Inestimable, by her beauty charm’d

She youngest daughter was of Iasus’ son,

Amphion, in old time a sov’reign prince          340

In Minuëian Orchomenus,

And King of Pylus. Three illustrious sons

She bore to Neleus, Nestor, Chromius,

And Periclymenus the wide-renown’d,

And, last, produced a wonder of the earth,

Pero, by ev’ry neighbour prince around

In marriage sought; but Neleus her on none

Deign’d to bestow, save only on the Chief

Who should from Phylace drive off the beeves

(Broad-fronted, and with jealous care secured)          350

Of valiant Iphicles. One undertook

That task alone, a prophet high in fame,

Melampus; but the Fates fast bound him there

In rig’rous bonds by rustic hands imposed.

At length (the year, with all its months and days

Concluded, and the new-born year begun)

Illustrious Iphicles releas’d the seer,

Grateful for all the oracles resolved,[45]

Till then obscure. So stood the will of Jove.

Next, Leda, wife of Tyndarus I saw,          360

Who bore to Tyndarus a noble pair,

Castor the bold, and Pollux cestus-famed.

They pris’ners in the fertile womb of earth,

Though living, dwell, and even there from Jove

High priv’lege gain; alternate they revive

And die, and dignity partake divine.

The comfort of Aloëus, next, I view’d,

Iphimedeia; she th’ embrace profess’d

Of Neptune to have shared, to whom she bore

Two sons; short-lived they were, but godlike both,          370

Otus and Ephialtes far-renown’d.

Orion sole except, all-bounteous Earth

Ne’er nourish’d forms for beauty or for size

To be admired as theirs; in his ninth year

Each measur’d, broad, nine cubits, and the height

Was found nine ells of each. Against the Gods

Themselves they threaten’d war, and to excite

The din of battle in the realms above.

To the Olympian summit they essay’d

To heave up Ossa, and to Ossa’s crown          380

Branch-waving Pelion; so to climb the heav’ns.

Nor had they failed, maturer grown in might,

To accomplish that emprize, but them the son[46]

Of radiant-hair’d Latona and of Jove

Slew both, ere yet the down of blooming youth

Thick-sprung, their cheeks or chins had tufted o’er.

Phædra I also there, and Procris saw,

And Ariadne for her beauty praised,

Whose sire was all-wise Minos. Theseus her

From Crete toward the fruitful region bore          390

Of sacred Athens, but enjoy’d not there,

For, first, she perish’d by Diana’s shafts

In Dia, Bacchus witnessing her crime.[47]

Mæra and Clymene I saw beside,

And odious Eriphyle, who received

The price in gold of her own husband’s life.

But all the wives of Heroes whom I saw,

And all their daughters can I not relate;

Night, first, would fail; and even now the hour

Calls me to rest either on board my bark,          400

Or here; meantime, I in yourselves confide,

And in the Gods to shape my conduct home.

He ceased; the whole assembly silent sat,

Charm’d into ecstacy by his discourse

Throughout the twilight hall, till, at the last,

Areta iv’ry arm’d them thus bespake.

Phæacians! how appears he in your eyes

This stranger, graceful as he is in port,

In stature noble, and in mind discrete?

My guest he is, but ye all share with me          410

That honour; him dismiss not, therefore, hence

With haste, nor from such indigence withhold

Supplies gratuitous; for ye are rich,

And by kind heav’n with rare possessions blest.

The Hero, next, Echeneus spake, a Chief

Now ancient, eldest of Phæacia’s sons.

Your prudent Queen, my friends, speaks not beside

Her proper scope, but as beseems her well.

Her voice obey; yet the effect of all

Must on Alcinoüs himself depend.          420

To whom Alcinoüs, thus, the King, replied.

I ratify the word. So shall be done,

As surely as myself shall live supreme

O’er all Phæacia’s maritime domain.

Then let the guest, though anxious to depart,

Wait till the morrow, that I may complete

The whole donation. His safe conduct home

Shall be the gen’ral care, but mine in Chief,

To whom dominion o’er the rest belongs.

Him answer’d, then, Ulysses ever-wise.          430

Alcinoüs! Prince! exalted high o’er all

Phæacia’s sons! should ye solicit, kind,

My stay throughout the year, preparing still

My conduct home, and with illustrious gifts

Enriching me the while, ev’n that request

Should please me well; the wealthier I return’d,

The happier my condition; welcome more

And more respectable I should appear

In ev’ry eye to Ithaca restored.

To whom Alcinoüs answer thus return’d.          440

Ulysses! viewing thee, no fears we feel

Lest thou, at length, some false pretender prove,

Or subtle hypocrite, of whom no few

Disseminated o’er its face the earth

Sustains, adepts in fiction, and who frame

Fables, where fables could be least surmised.

Thy phrase well turn’d, and thy ingenuous mind

Proclaim thee diff’rent far, who hast in strains

Musical as a poet’s voice, the woes

Rehears’d of all thy Greecians, and thy own.          450

But say, and tell me true. Beheld’st thou there

None of thy followers to the walls of Troy

Slain in that warfare? Lo! the night is long—

A night of utmost length; nor yet the hour

Invites to sleep. Tell me thy wond’rous deeds,

For I could watch till sacred dawn, could’st thou

So long endure to tell me of thy toils.

Then thus Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Alcinoüs! high exalted over all

Phæacia’s sons! the time suffices yet          460

For converse both and sleep, and if thou wish

To hear still more, I shall not spare to unfold

More pitiable woes than these, sustain’d

By my companions, in the end destroy’d;

Who, saved from perils of disast’rous war

At Ilium, perish’d yet in their return,

Victims of a pernicious woman’s crime.[48]

Now, when chaste Proserpine had wide dispers’d

Those female shades, the spirit sore distress’d

Of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, appear’d;          470

Encircled by a throng, he came; by all

Who with himself beneath Ægisthus’ roof

Their fate fulfill’d, perishing by the sword.

He drank the blood, and knew me; shrill he wail’d

And querulous; tears trickling bathed his cheeks,

And with spread palms, through ardour of desire

He sought to enfold me fast, but vigour none,

Or force, as erst, his agile limbs inform’d.

I, pity-moved, wept at the sight, and him,

In accents wing’d by friendship, thus address’d.          480

Ah glorious son of Atreus, King of men!

What hand inflicted the all-numbing stroke

Of death on thee? Say, didst thou perish sunk

By howling tempests irresistible

Which Neptune raised, or on dry land by force

Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off

Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away,

Or fighting for Achaia’s daughters, shut

Within some city’s bulwarks close besieged?

I ceased, when Agamemnon thus replied.          490

Ulysses, noble Chief, Laertes’ son

For wisdom famed! I neither perish’d sunk

By howling tempests irresistible

Which Neptune raised, nor on dry land received

From hostile multitudes the fatal blow,

But me Ægisthus slew; my woeful death

Confed’rate with my own pernicious wife

He plotted, with a show of love sincere

Bidding me to his board, where as the ox

Is slaughter’d at his crib, he slaughter’d me.          500

Such was my dreadful death; carnage ensued

Continual of my friends slain all around,

Num’rous as boars bright-tusk’d at nuptial feast,

Or feast convivial of some wealthy Chief.

Thou hast already witness’d many a field

With warriors overspread, slain one by one,

But that dire scene had most thy pity moved,

For we, with brimming beakers at our side,

And underneath full tables bleeding lay.

Blood floated all the pavement. Then the cries          510

Of Priam’s daughter sounded in my ears

Most pitiable of all. Cassandra’s cries,

Whom Clytemnestra close beside me slew.

Expiring as I lay, I yet essay’d

To grasp my faulchion, but the trayt’ress quick

Withdrew herself, nor would vouchsafe to close

My languid eyes, or prop my drooping chin

Ev’n in the moment when I sought the shades.

So that the thing breathes not, ruthless and fell

As woman once resolv’d on such a deed          520

Detestable, as my base wife contrived,

The murther of the husband of her youth.

I thought to have return’d welcome to all,

To my own children and domestic train;

But she, past measure profligate, hath poured

Shame on herself, on women yet unborn,

And even on the virtuous of her sex.

He ceas’d, to whom, thus, answer I return’d.

Gods! how severely hath the thund’rer plagued

The house of Atreus even from the first,          530

By female counsels! we for Helen’s sake

Have num’rous died, and Clytemnestra framed,

While thou wast far remote, this snare for thee!

So I, to whom Atrides thus replied.

Thou, therefore, be not pliant overmuch

To woman; trust her not with all thy mind,

But half disclose to her, and half conceal.

Yet, from thy consort’s hand no bloody death,

My friend, hast thou to fear; for passing wise

Icarius’ daughter is, far other thoughts,          540

Intelligent, and other plans, to frame.

Her, going to the wars we left a bride

New-wedded, and thy boy hung at her breast,

Who, man himself, consorts ere now with men

A prosp’rous youth; his father, safe restored

To his own Ithaca, shall see him soon,

And he shall clasp his father in his arms

As nature bids; but me, my cruel one

Indulged not with the dear delight to gaze

On my Orestes, for she slew me first.          550

But listen; treasure what I now impart.[49]

Steer secret to thy native isle; avoid

Notice; for woman merits trust no more.

Now tell me truth. Hear ye in whose abode

My son resides? dwells he in Pylus, say,

Or in Orchomenos, or else beneath

My brother’s roof in Sparta’s wide domain?

For my Orestes is not yet a shade.

So he, to whom I answer thus return’d.

Atrides, ask not me. Whether he live,          560

Or have already died, I nothing know;

Mere words are vanity, and better spared.

Thus we discoursing mutual stood, and tears

Shedding disconsolate. The shade, meantime,

Came of Achilles, Peleus’ mighty son;

Patroclus also, and Antilochus

Appear’d, with Ajax, for proportion just

And stature tall, (Pelides sole except)

Distinguish’d above all Achaia’s sons.

The soul of swift Æacides at once          570

Knew me, and in wing’d accents thus began.

Brave Laertiades, for wiles renown’d!

What mightier enterprise than all the past

Hath made thee here a guest? rash as thou art!

How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloom

Of Ades, dwelling of the shadowy dead,

Semblances only of what once they were?

He spake, to whom I, answ’ring, thus replied.

O Peleus’ son! Achilles! bravest far

Of all Achaia’s race! I here arrived          580

Seeking Tiresias, from his lips to learn,

Perchance, how I might safe regain the coast

Of craggy Ithaca; for tempest-toss’d

Perpetual, I have neither yet approach’d

Achaia’s shore, or landed on my own.

But as for thee, Achilles! never man

Hath known felicity like thine, or shall,

Whom living we all honour’d as a God,

And who maintain’st, here resident, supreme

Controul among the dead; indulge not then,          590

Achilles, causeless grief that thou hast died.

I ceased, and answer thus instant received.

Renown’d Ulysses! think not death a theme

Of consolation; I had rather live

The servile hind for hire, and eat the bread

Of some man scantily himself sustain’d,

Than sov’reign empire hold o’er all the shades.

But come—speak to me of my noble boy;

Proceeds he, as he promis’d, brave in arms,

Or shuns he war? Say also, hast thou heard          600

Of royal Peleus? shares he still respect

Among his num’rous Myrmidons, or scorn

In Hellas and in Phthia, for that age

Predominates in his enfeebled limbs?

For help is none in me; the glorious sun

No longer sees me such, as when in aid

Of the Achaians I o’erspread the field

Of spacious Troy with all their bravest slain.

Oh might I, vigorous as then, repair[50]

For one short moment to my father’s house,          610

They all should tremble; I would shew an arm,

Such as should daunt the fiercest who presumes

To injure him, or to despise his age.

Achilles spake, to whom I thus replied.

Of noble Peleus have I nothing heard;

But I will tell thee, as thou bidd’st, the truth

Unfeign’d of Neoptolemus thy son;

For him, myself, on board my hollow bark

From Scyros to Achaia’s host convey’d.

Oft as in council under Ilium’s walls          620

We met, he ever foremost was in speech,

Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself

Except, no Greecian could with him compare.

Oft, too, as we with battle hemm’d around

Troy’s bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd

Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,

Inferior in heroic worth to none.

Beneath him num’rous fell the sons of Troy

In dreadful fight, nor have I pow’r to name

Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm          630

Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.

Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son

Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword

Of life bereaved, and all around him strew’d

The plain with his Cetean warriors, won

To Ilium’s side by bribes to women giv’n.[51]

Save noble Memnon only, I beheld

No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.

Again, when we within the horse of wood

Framed by Epeüs sat, an ambush chos’n          640

Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust

Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed

The hollow fraud; then, ev’ry Chieftain there

And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks

The tears, and tremors felt in ev’ry limb;

But never saw I changed to terror’s hue

His ruddy cheek, no tears wiped he away,

But oft he press’d me to go forth, his suit

With pray’rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt

And his brass-burthen’d spear, and dire revenge          650

Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.

At length, when we had sack’d the lofty town

Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils

He safe embark’d, neither by spear or shaft

Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion’s edge,

As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt

Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.

So I; then striding large, the spirit thence

Withdrew of swift Æacides, along

The hoary mead pacing,[52] with joy elate          660

That I had blazon’d bright his son’s renown.

The other souls of men by death dismiss’d

Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;

The soul alone I saw standing remote

Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed

That in our public contest for the arms

Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown

Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,

Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.

Disastrous victory! which I could wish          670

Not to have won, since for that armour’s sake

The earth hath cover’d Ajax, in his form

And martial deeds superior far to all

The Greecians, Peleus’ matchless son except.

I, seeking to appease him, thus began.

O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!

Canst thou remember, even after death,

Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake

Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods

Ordain’d of such dire consequence to Greece,          680

Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn

With grief perpetual, nor the death lament

Of Peleus’ son, Achilles, more than thine.

Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore

With bitt’rest hate pursued Achaia’s host,

And he ordain’d thy death. Hero! approach,

That thou may’st hear the words with which I seek

To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!

Quell all resentment in thy gen’rous breast!

I spake; nought answer’d he, but sullen join’d          690

His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,

I had prevail’d even on him to speak,

Or had, at least, accosted him again,

But that my bosom teem’d with strong desire

Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.

There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;

His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat

Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,

His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house

Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed.          700

Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,

Droves urging o’er the grassy mead, of beasts

Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,

With strong club arm’d of ever-during brass.

There also Tityus on the ground I saw

Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;

Nine acres he o’erspread, and, at his side

Station’d, two vultures on his liver prey’d,

Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands

To fray them thence; for he had sought to force          710

Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,

What time the Goddess journey’d o’er the rocks

Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.

Next, suff’ring grievous torments, I beheld

Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin

Wash’d by the wave; thirst-parch’d he seem’d, but found

Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow’d

His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood

Vanish’d absorb’d, and, at his feet, adust

The soil appear’d, dried, instant, by the Gods.          720

Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads

Stoop’d to him, pomegranates, apples bright,

The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;

Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,

Winds hurl’d them high into the dusky clouds.

There, too, the hard-task’d Sisyphus I saw,

Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.[53]

With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone

Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh

Vanquish’d, by some great force repulsed,[54] the mass          730

Rush’d again, obstinate, down to the plain.

Again, stretch’d prone, severe he toiled, the sweat

Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek’d.

The might of Hercules I, next, survey’d;

His semblance; for himself their banquet shares

With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms

Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair

Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal’d spouse.

Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead

Swarm’d turbulent; he, gloomy-brow’d as night,          740

With uncased bow and arrow on the string

Peer’d terrible from side to side, as one

Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt

He bore athwart his bosom, thong’d with gold.

There, broider’d shone many a stupendous form,

Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,

Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.

The artist, author of that belt, none such

Before, produced, or after. Me his eye

No sooner mark’d, than knowing me, in words          750

By sorrow quick suggested, he began.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,

Thou also, with some arduous labour, such

As in the realms of day I once endured.

Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes

Immense sustain’d, subjected to a King

Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands

Enjoin’d me many a terrible exploit.

He even bade me on a time lead hence          760

The dog, that task believing above all

Impracticable; yet from Ades him

I dragg’d reluctant into light, by aid

Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.

So saying, he penetrated deep again

The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved

There stood expecting, curious, other shades

To see of Heroes in old time deceased.

And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom

I wish’d, I had beheld, Pirithoüs          770

And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,

But nations, first, numberless of the dead

Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,

Lest awful Proserpine should thither send

The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr’d!

I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade

My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.

They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.

Down the Oceanus[55] the current bore

My galley, winning, at the first, her way          780

With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.

[40] Milton.

[41] The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria, but Euphonicè by Homer, Thrinacia.

[42] The expression is used by Milton, and signifies—Beset with many difficulties.

[43] Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance of maritime concerns.

[44] By the Tragedians called—Jocasta.

[45] Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them; a service which Melampus had the good fortune to render him.

[46] Apollo.

[47] Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his temple, and the Goddess punished her with death.

[48] Probably meaning Helen.

[49] This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any Poet. Convinced, for a moment, by the virtues of Penelope, he mentioned her with respect; but recollecting himself suddenly, involves even her in his general ill opinion of the sex, begotten in him by the crimes of Clytemnestra.

[50] Another most beautiful stroke of nature. Ere yet Ulysses has had opportunity to answer, the very thought that Peleus may possibly be insulted, fires him, and he takes the whole for granted. Thus is the impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!

[51] Γυναίων εινεκα δώρων—Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the wife and mother of Eurypylus, to persuade him to the assistance of Troy, he being himself unwilling to engage. The passage through defect of history has long been dark, and commentators have adapted different senses to it, all conjectural. The Ceteans are said to have been a people of Mysia, of which Eurypylus was King.

[52] Κατ’ ασφοδελον λειμωνα—Asphodel was planted on the graves and around the tombs of the deceased, and hence the supposition that the Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel. F.

[53] Βασαζοντα must have this sense interpreted by what follows. To attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour like that of Sisyphus. The Translator has done what he could.

[54] It is now, perhaps, impossible to ascertain with precision what Homer meant by the word κραταιίς, which he uses only here, and in the next book, where it is the name of Scylla’s dam.—Αναιδης—is also of very doubtful explication.

[55] The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true meaning of the conclusion of this, and to prove sufficiently that by Ὠκεανὸς here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river. In those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that the ship left the stream of the river Oceanus, and arrived in the open sea. Diodorus Siculus informs us that Ὠκεανὸς had been a name anciently given to the Nile. See Clarke.

end chapter

BOOK XII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, pursuing his narrative, relates his return from the shades to Circe’s island, the precautions given him by that Goddess, his escape from the Sirens, and from Scylla and Charybdis; his arrival in Sicily, where his companions, having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun, are afterward shipwrecked and lost; and concludes the whole with an account of his arrival, alone, on the mast of his vessel, at the island of Calypso.

And now, borne seaward from the river-stream

Of the Oceanus, we plow’d again

The spacious Deep, and reach’d th’ Ææan isle,

Where, daughter of the dawn, Aurora takes

Her choral sports, and whence the sun ascends.

We, there arriving, thrust our bark aground

On the smooth beach, then landed, and on shore

Reposed, expectant of the sacred dawn.

But soon as day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d

Look’d forth again, sending my friends before,          10

I bade them bring Elpenor’s body down

From the abode of Circe to the beach.

Then, on the utmost headland of the coast

We timber fell’d, and, sorrowing o’er the dead,

His fun’ral rites water’d with tears profuse.

The dead consumed, and with the dead his arms,

We heap’d his tomb, and the sepulchral post

Erecting, fix’d his shapely oar aloft.

Thus, punctual, we perform’d; nor our return

From Ades knew not Circe, but attired          20

In haste, ere long arrived, with whom appear’d

Her female train with plenteous viands charged,

And bright wine rosy-red. Amidst us all

Standing, the beauteous Goddess thus began.

Ah miserable! who have sought the shades

Alive! while others of the human race

Die only once, appointed twice to die!

Come—take ye food; drink wine; and on the shore

All day regale, for ye shall hence again

At day-spring o’er the Deep; but I will mark          30

Myself your future course, nor uninform’d

Leave you in aught, lest, through some dire mistake,

By sea or land new mis’ries ye incur.

The Goddess spake, whose invitation kind

We glad accepted; thus we feasting sat

Till set of sun, and quaffing richest wine;

But when the sun went down and darkness fell,

My crew beside the hawsers slept, while me

The Goddess by the hand leading apart,

First bade me sit, then, seated opposite,          40

Enquired, minute, of all that I had seen,

And I, from first to last, recounted all.

Then, thus the awful Goddess in return.

Thus far thy toils are finish’d. Now attend!

Mark well my words, of which the Gods will sure

Themselves remind thee in the needful hour.

First shalt thou reach the Sirens; they the hearts

Enchant of all who on their coast arrive.

The wretch, who unforewarn’d approaching, hears

The Sirens’ voice, his wife and little-ones          50

Ne’er fly to gratulate his glad return,

But him the Sirens sitting in the meads

Charm with mellifluous song, while all around

The bones accumulated lie of men

Now putrid, and the skins mould’ring away.

But, pass them thou, and, lest thy people hear

Those warblings, ere thou yet approach, fill all

Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms;

But as for thee—thou hear them if thou wilt.

Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast          60

Erect, encompassing thy feet and arms

With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,

So shalt thou, raptur’d, hear the Sirens’ song.

But if thou supplicate to be released,

Or give such order, then, with added cords

Let thy companions bind thee still the more.

When thus thy people shall have safely pass’d

The Sirens by, think not from me to learn

What course thou next shalt steer; two will occur;

Delib’rate chuse; I shall describe them both.          70

Here vaulted rocks impend, dash’d by the waves

Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed;

The blessed Gods those rocks, Erratic, call.

Birds cannot pass them safe; no, not the doves

Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove,

But even of those doves the slipp’ry rock

Proves fatal still to one, for which the God

Supplies another, lest the number fail.

No ship, what ship soever there arrives,

Escapes them, but both mariners and planks          80

Whelm’d under billows of the Deep, or, caught

By fiery tempests, sudden disappear.

Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone

The Argo, further’d by the vows of all,

Pass’d safely, sailing from Ææta’s isle;

Nor she had pass’d, but surely dash’d had been

On those huge rocks, but that, propitious still

To Jason, Juno sped her safe along.

These rocks are two; one lifts his summit sharp

High as the spacious heav’ns, wrapt in dun clouds          90

Perpetual, which nor autumn sees dispers’d

Nor summer, for the sun shines never there;

No mortal man might climb it or descend,

Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own’d,

For it is levigated as by art.

Down scoop’d to Erebus, a cavern drear

Yawns in the centre of its western side;

Pass it, renown’d Ulysses! but aloof

So far, that a keen arrow smartly sent

Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave.          100

There Scylla dwells, and thence her howl is heard

Tremendous; shrill her voice is as the note

Of hound new-whelp’d, but hideous her aspect,

Such as no mortal man, nor ev’n a God

Encount’ring her, should with delight survey.

Her feet are twelve, all fore-feet; six her necks

Of hideous length, each clubb’d into a head

Terrific, and each head with fangs is arm’d

In triple row, thick planted, stored with death.

Plunged to her middle in the hollow den          110

She lurks, protruding from the black abyss

Her heads, with which the rav’ning monster dives

In quest of dolphins, dog-fish, or of prey

More bulky, such as in the roaring gulphs

Of Amphitrite without end abounds.

It is no seaman’s boast that e’er he slipp’d

Her cavern by, unharm’d. In ev’ry mouth

She bears upcaught a mariner away.

The other rock, Ulysses, thou shalt find

Humbler, a bow-shot only from the first;          120

On this a wild fig grows broad-leav’d, and here

Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood.

Each day she thrice disgorges, and each day

Thrice swallows it. Ah! well forewarn’d, beware

What time she swallows, that thou come not nigh,

For not himself, Neptune, could snatch thee thence.

Close passing Scylla’s rock, shoot swift thy bark

Beyond it, since the loss of six alone

Is better far than shipwreck made of all.

So Circe spake, to whom I thus replied.          130

Tell me, O Goddess, next, and tell me true!

If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape,

May I not also save from Scylla’s force

My people; should the monster threaten them?

I said, and quick the Goddess in return.

Unhappy! can exploits and toils of war

Still please thee? yield’st not to the Gods themselves?

She is no mortal, but a deathless pest,

Impracticable, savage, battle-proof.

Defence is vain; flight is thy sole resource.          140

For should’st thou linger putting on thy arms

Beside the rock, beware, lest darting forth

Her num’rous heads, she seize with ev’ry mouth

A Greecian, and with others, even thee.

Pass therefore swift, and passing, loud invoke

Cratais, mother of this plague of man,

Who will forbid her to assail thee more.

Thou, next, shalt reach Thrinacia; there, the beeves

And fatted flocks graze num’rous of the Sun;

Sev’n herds; as many flocks of snowy fleece;          150

Fifty in each; they breed not, neither die,

Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses,

Lampetia fair, and Phäethusa, both

By nymph Neæra to Hyperion borne.

Them, soon as she had train’d them to an age

Proportion’d to that charge, their mother sent

Into Thrinacia, there to dwell and keep

Inviolate their father’s flocks and herds.

If, anxious for a safe return, thou spare

Those herds and flocks, though after much endured,          160

Ye may at last your Ithaca regain;

But should’st thou violate them, I foretell

Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew,

And though thyself escape, thou shalt return

Late, in ill plight, and all thy friends destroy’d.

She ended, and the golden morning dawn’d.

Then, all-divine, her graceful steps she turn’d

Back through the isle, and, at the beach arrived,

I summon’d all my followers to ascend

The bark again, and cast the hawsers loose.          170

They, at my voice, embarking, fill’d in ranks

The seats, and rowing, thresh’d the hoary flood.

And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,

Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,

Pleasant companion of our course, and we

(The decks and benches clear’d) untoiling sat,

While managed gales sped swift the bark along.

Then, with dejected heart, thus I began.

Oh friends! (for it is needful that not one

Or two alone the admonition hear          180

Of Circe, beauteous prophetess divine)

To all I speak, that whether we escape

Or perish, all may be, at least, forewarn’d.

She bids us, first, avoid the dang’rous song

Of the sweet Sirens and their flow’ry meads.

Me only she permits those strains to hear;

But ye shall bind me with coercion strong

Of cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,

And by no struggles to be loos’d of mine.

But should I supplicate to be released          190

Or give such order, then, with added cords

Be it your part to bind me still the more.

Thus with distinct precaution I prepared

My people; rapid in her course, meantime,

My gallant bark approach’d the Sirens’ isle,

For brisk and favourable blew the wind.

Then fell the wind suddenly, and serene

A breathless calm ensued, while all around

The billows slumber’d, lull’d by pow’r divine.

Up-sprang my people, and the folded sails          200

Bestowing in the hold, sat to their oars,

Which with their polish’d blades whiten’d the Deep.

I, then, with edge of steel sev’ring minute

A waxen cake, chafed it and moulded it

Between my palms; ere long the ductile mass

Grew warm, obedient to that ceaseless force,

And to Hyperion’s all-pervading beams.

With that soft liniment I fill’d the ears

Of my companions, man by man, and they

My feet and arms with strong coercion bound          210

Of cordage to the mast-foot well secured.

Then down they sat, and, rowing, thresh’d the brine.

But when with rapid course we had arrived

Within such distance as a voice may reach,

Not unperceived by them the gliding bark

Approach’d, and, thus, harmonious they began.

Ulysses, Chief by ev’ry tongue extoll’d,

Achaia’s boast, oh hither steer thy bark!

Here stay thy course, and listen to our lay!

These shores none passes in his sable ship          220

Till, first, the warblings of our voice he hear,

Then, happier hence and wiser he departs.

All that the Greeks endured, and all the ills

Inflicted by the Gods on Troy, we know,

Know all that passes on the boundless earth.

So they with voices sweet their music poured

Melodious on my ear, winning with ease

My heart’s desire to listen, and by signs

I bade my people, instant, set me free.

But they incumbent row’d, and from their seats          230

Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang

With added cords to bind me still the more.

This danger past, and when the Sirens’ voice,

Now left remote, had lost its pow’r to charm,

Then, my companions freeing from the wax

Their ears, deliver’d me from my restraint.

The island left afar, soon I discern’d

Huge waves, and smoke, and horrid thund’rings heard.

All sat aghast; forth flew at once the oars

From ev’ry hand, and with a clash the waves          240

Smote all together; check’d, the galley stood,

By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged,

And I, throughout the bark, man after man

Encouraged all, addressing thus my crew.

We meet not, now, my friends, our first distress.

This evil is not greater than we found

When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den

Imprison’d us, yet even thence we ’scaped,

My intrepidity and fertile thought

Opening the way; and we shall recollect          250

These dangers also, in due time, with joy.

Come, then—pursue my counsel. Ye your seats

Still occupying, smite the furrow’d flood

With well-timed strokes, that by the will of Jove

We may escape, perchance, this death, secure.

To thee the pilot thus I speak, (my words

Mark thou, for at thy touch the rudder moves)

This smoke, and these tumultuous waves avoid;

Steer wide of both; yet with an eye intent

On yonder rock, lest unaware thou hold          260

Too near a course, and plunge us into harm.

So I; with whose advice all, quick, complied.

But Scylla I as yet named not, (that woe

Without a cure) lest, terrified, my crew

Should all renounce their oars, and crowd below.

Just then, forgetful of the strict command

Of Circe not to arm, I cloath’d me all

In radiant armour, grasp’d two quiv’ring spears,

And to the deck ascended at the prow,

Expecting earliest notice there, what time          270

The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends.

But I discern’d her not, nor could, although

To weariness of sight the dusky rock

I vigilant explored. Thus, many a groan

Heaving, we navigated sad the streight,

For here stood Scylla, while Charybdis there

With hoarse throat deep absorb’d the briny flood.

Oft as she vomited the deluge forth,

Like water cauldron’d o’er a furious fire

The whirling Deep all murmur’d, and the spray          280

On both those rocky summits fell in show’rs.

But when she suck’d the salt wave down again,

Then, all the pool appear’d wheeling about

Within, the rock rebellow’d, and the sea

Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view

The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized.

Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch’d

Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark

Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.

With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew          290

Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms

Of those whom she uplifted in the air;

On me they call’d, my name, the last, last time

Pronouncing then, in agony of heart.

As when from some bold point among the rocks

The angler, with his taper rod in hand,

Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,

He swings away remote his guarded line,[56]

Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,

So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock,          300

And at her cavern’s mouth devour’d them loud-

Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms

In sign of hopeless mis’ry. Ne’er beheld

These eyes in all the seas that I have roam’d,

A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils.

From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped,

We reach’d the noble island of the Sun

Ere long, where bright Hyperion’s beauteous herds

Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten’d flocks.

I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice          310

Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,

And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp’d the word

Into my memory of the sightless Seer,

Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict

Of Circe, my Ææan monitress,

Who with such force had caution’d me to avoid

The island of the Sun, joy of mankind.

Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake.

Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress’d,

The words prophetic of the Theban seer          320

And of Ææan Circe, whose advice

Was oft repeated to me to avoid

This island of the Sun, joy of mankind.

There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes,

Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away.

I ceased; they me with consternation heard,

And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.

Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair

Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form’d,

Who thy companions weary and o’erwatch’d          330

Forbidd’st to disembark on this fair isle,

Where now, at last, we might with ease regale.

Thou, rash, command’st us, leaving it afar,

To roam all night the Ocean’s dreary waste;

But winds to ships injurious spring by night,

And how shall we escape a dreadful death

If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise

Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft

The vessel, even in the Gods’ despight?

Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins,          340

Our evening fare beside the sable bark,

In which at peep of day we may again

Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.

He ceas’d, whom all applauded. Then I knew

That sorrow by the will of adverse heav’n

Approach’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

I suffer force, Eurylochus! and yield

O’er-ruled by numbers. Come, then, swear ye all

A solemn oath, that should we find an herd

Or num’rous flock, none here shall either sheep          350

Or bullock slay, by appetite profane

Seduced, but shall the viands eat content

Which from immortal Circe we received.

I spake; they readily a solemn oath

Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,

Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose

They moor’d the bark, and, issuing, began

Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.

But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain’d

Unsated, recollecting, then, their friends          360

By Scylla seized and at her cave devour’d,

They mourn’d, nor ceased to mourn them, till they slept.

The night’s third portion come, when now the stars

Had travers’d the mid-sky, cloud-gath’rer Jove

Call’d forth a vehement wind with tempest charged,

Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds

Tremendous, and the night fell dark from heav’n.

But when Aurora, daughter of the day,

Look’d rosy forth, we haled, drawn inland more,

Our bark into a grot, where nymphs were wont          370

Graceful to tread the dance, or to repose.

Convening there my friends, I thus began.

My friends! food fails us not, but bread is yet

And wine on board. Abstain we from the herds,

Lest harm ensue; for ye behold the flocks

And herds of a most potent God, the Sun!

Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude.

So saying, I sway’d the gen’rous minds of all.

A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew,

Nor other wind blew next, save East and South,          380

Yet they, while neither food nor rosy wine

Fail’d them, the herds harm’d not, through fear to die.

But, our provisions failing, they employed

Whole days in search of food, snaring with hooks

Birds, fishes, of what kind soe’er they might.

By famine urged. I solitary roam’d

Meantime the isle, seeking by pray’r to move

Some God to shew us a deliv’rance thence.

When, roving thus the isle, I had at length

Left all my crew remote, laving my hands          390

Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast,

I supplicated ev’ry Pow’r above;

But they my pray’rs answer’d with slumbers soft

Shed o’er my eyes, and with pernicious art

Eurylochus, the while, my friends harangued.

My friends! afflicted as ye are, yet hear

A fellow-suff’rer. Death, however caused,

Abhorrence moves in miserable man,

But death by famine is a fate of all

Most to be fear’d. Come—let us hither drive          400

And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow’rs

The best of all the oxen of the Sun,

Resolving thus—that soon as we shall reach

Our native Ithaca, we will erect

To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane,

Which with magnificent and num’rous gifts

We will enrich. But should he chuse to sink

Our vessel, for his stately beeves incensed,

And should, with him, all heav’n conspire our death,

I rather had with open mouth, at once,          410

Meeting the billows, perish, than by slow

And pining waste here in this desert isle.

So spake Eurylochus, whom all approved.

Then, driving all the fattest of the herd

Few paces only, (for the sacred beeves

Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood

Compassing them around, and, grasping each

Green foliage newly pluck’d from saplings tall,

(For barley none in all our bark remain’d)

Worshipp’d the Gods in pray’r. Pray’r made, they slew

And flay’d them, and the thighs with double fat          421

Investing, spread them o’er with slices crude.

No wine had they with which to consecrate

The blazing rites, but with libation poor

Of water hallow’d the interior parts.

Now, when the thighs were burnt, and each had shared

His portion of the maw, and when the rest

All-slash’d and scored hung roasting at the fire,

Sleep, in that moment, suddenly my eyes

Forsaking, to the shore I bent my way.          430

But ere the station of our bark I reach’d,

The sav’ry steam greeted me. At the scent

I wept aloud, and to the Gods exclaim’d.

Oh Jupiter, and all ye Pow’rs above!

With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull’d

My cares to rest, such horrible offence

Meantime my rash companions have devised.

Then, flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun

At once with tidings of his slaughter’d beeves,

And he, incensed, the Immortals thus address’d.          440

Jove, and ye everlasting Pow’rs divine!

Avenge me instant on the crew profane

Of Laertiades; Ulysses’ friends

Have dared to slay my beeves, which I with joy

Beheld, both when I climb’d the starry heav’ns,

And when to earth I sloped my “westring wheels,”

But if they yield me not amercement due

And honourable for my loss, to Hell

I will descend and give the ghosts my beams.

Then, thus the cloud-assembler God replied.          450

Sun! shine thou still on the Immortal Pow’rs,

And on the teeming earth, frail man’s abode.

My candent bolts can in a moment reach

And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.

These things Calypso told me, taught, herself,

By herald Hermes, as she oft affirm’d.

But when, descending to the shore, I reach’d

At length my bark, with aspect stern and tone

I reprimanded them, yet no redress

Could frame, or remedy—the beeves were dead.          460

Soon follow’d signs portentous sent from heav’n.

The skins all crept, and on the spits the flesh

Both roast and raw bellow’d, as with the voice

Of living beeves. Thus my devoted friends

Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun,

Feasted six days entire; but when the sev’nth

By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared,

The storm then ceased to rage, and we, again

Embarking, launch’d our galley, rear’d the mast,

And gave our unfurl’d canvas to the wind.          470

The island left afar, and other land

Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,

Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove

Hung a cærulean cloud, dark’ning the Deep.

Not long my vessel ran, for, blowing wild,

Now came shrill Zephyrus; a stormy gust

Snapp’d sheer the shrouds on both sides; backward fell

The mast, and with loose tackle strew’d the hold;

Striking the pilot in the stern, it crush’d

His scull together; he a diver’s plunge          480

Made downward, and his noble spirit fled.

Meantime, Jove thund’ring, hurl’d into the ship

His bolts; she, smitten by the fires of Jove,

Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,

And o’er her sides headlong my people plunged

Like sea-mews, interdicted by that stroke

Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

But I, the vessel still paced to and fro,

Till, fever’d by the boist’rous waves, her sides

Forsook the keel now left to float alone.          490

Snapp’d where it join’d the keel the mast had fall’n,

But fell encircled with a leathern brace,

Which it retain’d; binding with this the mast

And keel together, on them both I sat,

Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale.

And now the West subsided, and the South

Arose instead, with mis’ry charged for me,

That I might measure back my course again

To dire Charybdis. All night long I drove,

And when the sun arose, at Scylla’s rock          500

Once more, and at Charybdis’ gulph arrived.

It was the time when she absorb’d profound

The briny flood, but by a wave upborne

I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig.[57]

To which, bat-like, I clung; yet where to fix

My foot secure found not, or where to ascend,

For distant lay the roots, and distant shot

The largest arms erect into the air,

O’ershadowing all Charybdis; therefore hard

I clench’d the boughs, till she disgorg’d again          510

Both keel and mast. Not undesired by me

They came, though late; for at what hour the judge,

After decision made of num’rous strifes[58]

Between young candidates for honour, leaves

The forum for refreshment’ sake at home,

Then was it that the mast and keel emerged.

Deliver’d to a voluntary fall,

Fast by those beams I dash’d into the flood,

And seated on them both, with oary palms

Impell’d them; nor the Sire of Gods and men          520

Permitted Scylla to discern me more,

Else had I perish’d by her fangs at last.

Nine days I floated thence, and, on the tenth

Dark night, the Gods convey’d me to the isle

Ogygia, habitation of divine

Calypso, by whose hospitable aid

And assiduity, my strength revived.

But wherefore this? ye have already learn’d

That hist’ry, thou and thy illustrious spouse;

I told it yesterday, and hate a tale          530

Once amply told, then, needless, traced again.

[56] They passed the line through a pipe of horn, to secure it against the fishes’ bite.

[57] See line 120.

[58] He had therefore held by the fig-tree from sunrise till afternoon.

end chapter

BOOK XIII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents from the Phæacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.

Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country, which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.

He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,

Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourse

Throughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.

Ulysses, since beneath my brazen dome

Sublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,

Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain

By tempests tost, though much to woe inured.

To you, who daily in my presence quaff

Your princely meed of gen’rous wine and hear

The sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak.          10

The robes, wrought gold, and all the other gifts

To this our guest, by the Phæacian Chiefs

Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.

But come—present ye to the stranger, each,

An ample tripod also, with a vase

Of smaller size, for which we will be paid

By public impost; for the charge of all

Excessive were by one alone defray’d.

So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel pleased;

Then, all retiring, sought repose at home.          20

But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the bark

With his illustrious present, which the might

Of King Alcinoüs, who himself her sides

Ascended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,

Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’d

In rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.

The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,

Together, they prepared a new regale.

For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might[59]          30

Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to Jove

Saturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.

The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partook

The noble feast; meantime, the bard divine

Sang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.

But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun

Turn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,

Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.

As when some hungry swain whose sable beeves

Have through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow          40

All day, the setting sun views with delight

For supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,

So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’d

The sun-set of that eve; directing, then,

His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,

But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.

Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!

Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,

And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,

Conductors hence, and honourable gifts          50

With which heav’n prosper me! and may the Gods

Vouchsafe to me, at my return, to find

All safe, my spotless consort and my friends!

May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wives

And see your children blest, and may the pow’rs

Immortal with all good enrich you all,

And from calamity preserve the land!

He ended, they unanimous, his speech

Applauded loud, and bade dismiss the guest

Who had so wisely spoken and so well.          60

Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.

Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bear

To ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,

That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,

We may dismiss our inmate to his home.

Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guest

The brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’d

Libation due; but the illustrious Chief

Ulysses, from his seat arising, placed

A massy goblet in Areta’s hand,          70

To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.

Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till age

Arrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!

I go; but be this people, and the King

Alcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joy

Yet many a year beneath this glorious roof!

So saying, the Hero through the palace-gate

Issued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,

The royal herald to his vessel led.

Three maidens also of Areta’s train          80

His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’d

And tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;

And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.

Arriving where the galley rode, each gave

Her charge to some brave mariner on board,

And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spread

Linen and arras on the deck astern,

For his secure repose. And now the Chief

Himself embarking, silent lay’d him down.

Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d;          90

They drew the loosen’d cable from its hold

In the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at once

With lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.

His eye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,

Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.

She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plain

Shooting together at the scourge’s stroke,

Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,

So mounted she the waves, while dark the flood

Roll’d after her of the resounding Deep.          100

Steady she ran and safe, passing in speed

The falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;

With such rapidity she cut the waves,

An hero bearing like the Gods above

In wisdom, one familiar long with woe

In fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,

Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’d

To sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.

The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chief

Of day-spring, now arose, when at the isle          110

(Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.

There is a port sacred in Ithaca

To Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,

Form’d by converging shores, prominent both

And both abrupt, which from the spacious bay

Exclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships

(The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.

An olive, at the haven’s head, expands

Her branches wide, near to a pleasant cave

Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named          120

The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stone

And jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;

And there, on slender spindles of the rock

The nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.

Perennial springs water it, and it shows

A twofold entrance; ingress one affords

To mortal man, which Northward looks direct,

But holier is the Southern far; by that

No mortal enters, but the Gods alone.

Familiar with that port before, they push’d          130

The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sands

With half her keel, such rowers urged her on.

Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,

They lifted forth Ulysses first, with all

His splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him down

Still wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.

His treasures, next, by the Phæacian Chiefs

At his departure given him as the meed

Due to his wisdom, at the olive’s foot

They heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept          140

Some passing traveller should rifle them.

Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s God

His threats forgot denounced against divine

Ulysses, but with Jove thus first advised.

Eternal Sire! I shall no longer share

Respect and reverence among the Gods,

Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’d

To honour me, though from myself derived.

It was my purpose, that by many an ill

Harass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home,          150

Although to intercept him, whose return

Thyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.

But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the waves

They have conducted, and have set him down

In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,

With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;

Much treasure! more than he had home convey’d

Even had he arrived with all his share

Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.

To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.          160

What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,

Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods

Will ne’er despise; dangerous were the deed

To cast dishonour on a God by birth

More ancient, and more potent far than they.

But if, profanely rash, a mortal man

Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong

Some future day is ever in thy pow’r.

Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.

Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores.          170

Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon

Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch

Thy mind continual, fearful to offend.

My purpose is, now to destroy amid

The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,

Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;

So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,

And she shall hide their city, to a rock

Transform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.

Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds.          180

Perform it, O my brother, and the deed

Thus done, shall best be done—What time the people

Shall from the city her approach descry,

Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shape

A gallant bark, near to the coast, that all

May wonder, seeing her transform’d to stone

Of size to hide their city from the view.

These words once heard, the Shaker of the shores

Instant to Scheria, maritime abode

Of the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d.          190

And now the flying bark full near approach’d,

When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palm

Depress’d her at a stroke, and she became

Deep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.

Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantime

Conferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,

Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.

Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s course

Homeward? this moment she was all in view.

Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom          200

Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.

Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mind

With force, my father’s. He was wont to say—

Neptune resents it, that we safe conduct

Natives of ev’ry region to their home.

He also spake, prophetic, of a day

When a Phæacian gallant bark, return’d

After conveyance of a stranger hence,

Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changed

To a huge mountain, cover all the town.          210

So spake my father, all whose words we see

This day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we all

Unanimous; henceforth no longer bear

The stranger home, when such shall here arrive;

And we will sacrifice, without delay,

Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,

He will commiserate us, and forbear

To hide our town behind a mountain’s height.

He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.

Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs          220

His altar compassing, in pray’r adored

The Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,

Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soil

He lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.

For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloud

Drew dense around him, that, ere yet agnized

By others, he might wisdom learn from her,

Neither to citizens, nor yet to friends

Reveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,

Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs          230

Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.

All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyes

Seem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,

Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.

Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil

Contemplating, till with expanded palms

Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.

Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?

Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,

Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?          240

Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?

Where wander I, myself? I would that still

Phæacians own’d them, and I had arrived

In the dominions of some other King

Magnanimous, who would have entertain’d

And sent me to my native home secure!

Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,

Nor can I leave it here, lest it become

Another’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s Chiefs

Not altogether wise I deem or just,          250

Who have misplaced me in another land,

Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shores

Of Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.

Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who all

Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,

Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—

I will revise my stores, so shall I know

If they have left me here of aught despoiled.

So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,

The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes,          260

But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’d

His native isle, with pensive steps and slow

Pacing the border of the billowy flood,

Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,

In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair

In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;

A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hung

Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,

And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.

Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps          270

Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.

Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I first

Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!

Come not with purposes of harm to me!

These save, and save me also. I prefer

To thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and clasp

Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,

What land? what people? who inhabit here?

Is this some isle delightful, or a shore

Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?          280

Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.

Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt

Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.

It is not, trust me, of so little note,

But known to many, both to those who dwell

Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed

Behind it, distant in the dusky West.

Rugged it is, not yielding level course

To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,

However small, but rich in wheat and wine;          290

Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,

But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,

Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.

Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name

Known ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,

At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.

The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring Chief

Ulysses, happy in his native land,

(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)

In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt          300

Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,

For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.

O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete[60]

I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,

I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;

Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left

To my own children; for from Crete I fled

For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,

Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed

Could equal throughout all that spacious isle.          310

His purpose was to plunder me of all

My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe

I had in battle and by storms endured,

For that I would not gratify his Sire,

Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,

But led a diff’rent band. Him from the field

Returning homeward, with my brazen spear

I smote, in ambush waiting his return

At the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.

Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns          320

That night prevailed, nor any eye of man

Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.

No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life

I had bereft him, than I sought a ship

Mann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with gifts

Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won.

I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,

Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,

But they, reluctant, were by violent winds

Driv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none.          330

Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,

And with much difficulty push’d the ship

Into safe harbour, nor was mention made

Of food by any, though all needed food,

But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.

I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods

Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed

The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,

Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast

Steer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.          340

He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyed

And stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,

Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant arts

Accomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.

Who passes thee in artifice well-framed

And in imposture various, need shall find

Of all his policy, although a God.

Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art

And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’d

Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech          350

Delusive, even in thy native land?

But come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts

From our discourse, in which we both excel;

For thou of all men in expedients most

Abound’st and eloquence, and I, throughout

All heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.

And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,

Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toils

Assist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’r

T’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons,          360

And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frame

Discrete with thee, and to conceal the stores

Giv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs

On my suggestion, at thy going thence.

I will inform thee also what distress

And hardship under thy own palace-roof

Thou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,

Bear patiently, and neither man apprize

Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn

And vagabond, but silent undergo          370

What wrongs soever from the hands of men.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

O Goddess! thou art able to elude,

Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,

For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I know

Certainly, that I ever found thee kind,

Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;

But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laid

In dust) we re-embark’d, and by the will

Of heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide,          380

Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I thee

Saw not, nor thy appearance in my ship

Once mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,

But always bearing in my breast a heart

With anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the Gods

Relieved at length, and till with gracious words

Thyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent land

Confirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.

But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—

O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope          390

That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I tread

Some other soil, and thou affirm’st it mine

To mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—

Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?

Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.

Such caution in thy breast always prevails

Distrustful; but I know thee eloquent,

With wisdom and with ready thought endued,

And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’d

For what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d          400

After long wand’rings, would not pant to see

At once his home, his children, and his wife?

But thou preferr’st neither to know nor ask

Concerning them, till some experience first

Thou make of her whose wasted youth is spent

In barren solitude, and who in tears

Ceaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.

I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknew

That not till after loss of all thy friends

Thou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose          410

Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensed

For his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.

But, I will give thee proof—come now—survey

These marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.

This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;

That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;

Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant cove

Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named

The Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern is

Where thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs          420

Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder stands

The mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.

So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from before

His eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.

Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,

Transport unutterable, seeing plain

Once more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,

And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.

Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’d

To see you more, whom yet with happy vows          430

I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,

We will hereafter at your shrines present,

If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,

Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.

Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.

Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughts

Now needless. Haste—delay not—far within

This hallow’d cave’s recess place we at once

Thy precious stores, that they may thine remain,

Then muse together on thy wisest course.          440

So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the cave

Caliginous, and its secret nooks explored

From side to side; meantime, Ulysses brought

All his stores into it, the gold, the brass,

And robes magnificent, his gifts received

From the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,

And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,

Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.

Then, on the consecrated olive’s root

Both seated, they in consultation plann’d          450

The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,

And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.

Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! think

By what means likeliest thou shalt assail

Those shameless suitors, who have now controuled

Three years thy family, thy matchless wife

With language amorous and with spousal gifts

Urging importunate; but she, with tears

Watching thy wish’d return, hope gives to all

By messages of promise sent to each,          460

Framing far other purposes the while.

Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.

Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fate

Had surely met me in my own abode,

But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!

Come then—Devise the means; teach me, thyself,

The way to vengeance, and my soul inspire

With daring fortitude, as when we loos’d

Her radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.

Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid          470

Thy servant here, I would encounter thrice

An hundred enemies, let me but perceive

Thy dread divinity my prompt ally.

Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,

(Let once our time of enterprize arrive)

Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,

Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealth

Shall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.

But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so          480

That none shall know thee! I will parch the skin

On thy fair body; I will cause thee shed

Thy wavy locks; I will enfold thee round

In such a kirtle as the eyes of all

Shall loath to look on; and I will deform

With blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;

So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,

And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,

Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou first

Thy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends          490

Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy son

And thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swain

Tending his herd; they feed beneath the rock

Corax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,

On acorns dieted, nutritious food

To them, and drinking of the limpid stream.

There waiting, question him of thy concerns,

While I from Sparta praised for women fair

Call home thy son Telemachus, a guest

With Menelaus now, whom to consult          500

In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,

Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,

Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,

He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,

Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?

Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forth

Myself, that there arrived, he might acquire          510

Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,

But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,

Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,

The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,

Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,

But shall not as I judge, till of themselves

The earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.

So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.

At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’d

The polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root          520

His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hide

Deform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheums

His eyes before so vivid, and a cloak

And kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,

And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over all

An huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staff

She furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’d

On all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.

Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent ways

They took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son,          530

To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.

[59] Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.

[60] Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.

end chapter

BOOK XIV

ARGUMENT

Ulysses arriving at the house of Eumæus, is hospitably entertained, and spends the night there.

Leaving the haven-side, he turn’d his steps

Into a rugged path, which over hills

Mantled with trees led him to the abode

By Pallas mention’d of his noble friend[61]

The swine-herd, who of all Ulysses’ train

Watch’d with most diligence his rural stores.

Him sitting in the vestibule he found

Of his own airy lodge commodious, built

Amidst a level lawn. That structure neat

Eumæus, in the absence of his Lord,          10

Had raised, himself, with stones from quarries hewn,

Unaided by Laertes or the Queen.

With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,

And with contiguous stakes riv’n from the trunks

Of solid oak black-grain’d hemm’d it without.

Twelve penns he made within, all side by side,

Lairs for his swine, and fast-immured in each

Lay fifty pregnant females on the floor.

The males all slept without, less num’rous far,

Thinn’d by the princely wooers at their feasts          20

Continual, for to them he ever sent

The fattest of his saginated charge.

Three hundred, still, and sixty brawns remained.

Four mastiffs in adjoining kennels lay,

Resembling wild-beasts nourish’d at the board

Of the illustrious steward of the styes.

Himself sat fitting sandals to his feet,

Carved from a stain’d ox-hide. Four hinds he kept,

Now busied here and there; three in the penns

Were occupied; meantime, the fourth had sought          30

The city, whither, for the suitors’ use,

With no good will, but by constraint, he drove

A boar, that, sacrificing to the Gods,

Th’ imperious guests might on his flesh regale.

Soon as those clamorous watch-dogs the approach

Saw of Ulysses, baying loud, they ran

Toward him; he, as ever, well-advised,

Squatted, and let his staff fall from his hand.

Yet foul indignity he had endured

Ev’n there, at his own farm, but that the swain,          40

Following his dogs in haste, sprang through the porch

To his assistance, letting fall the hide.

With chiding voice and vollied stones he soon

Drove them apart, and thus his Lord bespake.

Old man! one moment more, and these my dogs

Had, past doubt, worried thee, who should’st have proved,

So slain, a source of obloquy to me.

But other pangs the Gods, and other woes

To me have giv’n, who here lamenting sit

My godlike master, and his fatted swine          50

Nourish for others’ use, while he, perchance,

A wand’rer in some foreign city, seeks

Fit sustenance, and none obtains, if still

Indeed he live, and view the light of day.

But, old friend! follow me into the house,

That thou, at least, with plenteous food refresh’d,

And cheer’d with wine sufficient, may’st disclose

Both who thou art, and all that thou hast borne.

So saying, the gen’rous swine-herd introduced

Ulysses, and thick bundles spread of twigs          60

Beneath him, cover’d with the shaggy skin

Of a wild goat, of which he made his couch

Easy and large; the Hero, so received,

Rejoiced, and thus his gratitude express’d.

Jove grant thee and the Gods above, my host,

For such beneficence thy chief desire!

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

My guest! I should offend, treating with scorn

The stranger, though a poorer should arrive

Than ev’n thyself; for all the poor that are,          70

And all the strangers are the care of Jove.

Little, and with good will, is all that lies

Within my scope; no man can much expect

From servants living in continual fear

Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,

Have intercepted my own Lord’s return,

From whom great kindness I had, else, received,

With such a recompense as servants gain

From gen’rous masters, house and competence,

And lovely wife from many a wooer won,          80

Whose industry should have requited well

His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods

As now attends me in my present charge.

Much had I, therefore, prosper’d, had my Lord

Grown old at home; but he hath died—I would

That the whole house of Helen, one and all,

Might perish too, for she hath many slain

Who, like my master, went glory to win

For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.

So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close,          90

And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two

Of the imprison’d herd, he slaughter’d both,

Singed them, and slash’d and spitted them, and placed

The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,

Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour

He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine

His ivy goblet, to his master sat

Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.

Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may

I set before thee, neither large of growth          100

Nor fat; the fatted—those the suitors eat,

Fearless of heav’n, and pitiless of man.

Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods

Love not; they honour equity and right.

Even an hostile band when they invade

A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove

They plunder, and with laden ships depart,

Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.

But these are wiser; these must sure have learn’d

From some true oracle my master’s death,          110

Who neither deign with decency to woo,

Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste

His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.

Jove ne’er hath giv’n us yet the night or day

When with a single victim, or with two

They would content them, and his empty jars

Witness how fast the squand’rers use his wine.

Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth

No Hero own’d on yonder continent,

Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs          120

Could match with all their treasures his alone;

I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his

The mainland graze;[62] as many flocks of sheep;

As many droves of swine; and hirelings there

And servants of his own seed for his use,

As many num’rous flocks of goats; his goats,

(Not fewer than eleven num’rous flocks)

Here also graze the margin of his fields

Under the eye of servants well-approved,

And ev’ry servant, ev’ry day, brings home          130

The goat, of all his flock largest and best.

But as for me, I have these swine in charge,

Of which, selected with exactest care

From all the herd, I send the prime to them.

He ceas’d, meantime Ulysses ate and drank

Voracious, meditating, mute, the death

Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,

Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,

Eumæus gave him, charged with wine, the cup

From which he drank himself; he, glad, received          140

The boon, and in wing’d accents thus began.

My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave

As thou describ’st the Chief, who purchased thee?

Thou say’st he perish’d for the glory-sake

Of Agamemnon. Name him; I, perchance,

May have beheld the Hero. None can say

But Jove and the inhabitants of heav’n

That I ne’er saw him, and may not impart

News of him; I have roam’d through many a clime.

To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied.          150

Alas, old man! no trav’ler’s tale of him

Will gain his consort’s credence, or his son’s;

For wand’rers, wanting entertainment, forge

Falsehoods for bread, and wilfully deceive.

No wand’rer lands in Ithaca, but he seeks

With feign’d intelligence my mistress’ ear;

She welcomes all, and while she questions each

Minutely, from her lids lets fall the tear

Affectionate, as well beseems a wife

Whose mate hath perish’d in a distant land.          160

Thou could’st thyself, no doubt, my hoary friend!

(Would any furnish thee with decent vest

And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;

Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls, long since,

His skin have stript, or fishes of the Deep

Have eaten him, and on some distant shore

Whelm’d in deep sands his mould’ring bones are laid.

So hath he perish’d; whence, to all his friends,

But chiefly to myself, sorrow of heart;

For such another Lord, gentle as he,          170

Wherever sought, I have no hope to find,

Though I should wander even to the house

Of my own father. Neither yearns my heart

So feelingly (though that desiring too)

To see once more my parents and my home,

As to behold Ulysses yet again.

Ah stranger; absent as he is, his name

Fills me with rev’rence, for he lov’d me much,

Cared for me much, and, though we meet no more,

Holds still an elder brother’s part in me.          180

Him answer’d, then, the Hero toil-inured.

My friend! since his return, in thy account,

Is an event impossible, and thy mind

Always incredulous that hope rejects,

I shall not slightly speak, but with an oath—

Ulysses comes again; and I demand

No more, than that the boon such news deserves,

Be giv’n me soon as he shall reach his home.

Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,

Which, ere that hour, much as I need them both,          190

I neither ask, nor will accept from thee.

For him whom poverty can force aside

From truth—I hate him as the gates of hell.

Be Jove, of all in heav’n, my witness first,

Then, this thy hospitable board, and, last,

The household Gods of the illustrious Chief

Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,

That all my words shall surely be fulfill’d.

In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,

Ere, this month closed, another month succeed,          200

He shall return, and punish all who dare

Insult his consort and his noble son.

To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

Old friend! that boon thou wilt ne’er earn from me;

Ulysses comes no more. But thou thy wine

Drink quietly, and let us find, at length,

Some other theme; recall not this again

To my remembrance, for my soul is grieved

Oft as reminded of my honour’d Lord.

Let the oath rest, and let Ulysses come          210

Ev’n as myself, and as Penelope,

And as his ancient father, and his son

Godlike Telemachus, all wish he may.

Ay—there I feel again—nor cease to mourn

His son Telemachus; who, when the Gods

Had giv’n him growth like a young plant, and I

Well hoped that nought inferior he should prove

In person or in mind to his own sire,

Hath lost, through influence human or divine,

I know not how, his sober intellect,          220

And after tidings of his sire is gone

To far-famed Pylus; his return, meantime,

In ambush hidden the proud suitors wait,

That the whole house may perish of renown’d

Arcesias, named in Ithaca no more.

But whether he have fallen or ’scaped, let him

Rest also, whom Saturnian Jove protect!

But come, my ancient guest! now let me learn

Thy own afflictions; answer me in truth.

Who, and whence art thou? in what city born?          230

Where dwell thy parents; in what kind of ship

Cam’st thou? the mariners, why brought they thee

To Ithaca? and of what land are they?

For, that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure.

Him answer’d, then, Ulysses, ever-wise.

I will with truth resolve thee; and if here

Within thy cottage sitting, we had wine

And food for many a day, and business none

But to regale at ease while others toiled,

I could exhaust the year complete, my woes          240

Rehearsing, nor, at last, rehearse entire

My sorrows by the will of heav’n sustained.

I boast me sprung from ancestry renown’d

In spacious Crete; son of a wealthy sire,

Who other sons train’d num’rous in his house,

Born of his wedded wife; but he begat

Me on his purchased concubine, whom yet

Dear as his other sons in wedlock born

Castor Hylacides esteem’d and lov’d,

For him I boast my father. Him in Crete,          250

While yet he liv’d, all reverenc’d as a God,

So rich, so prosp’rous, and so blest was he

With sons of highest praise. But death, the doom

Of all, him bore to Pluto’s drear abode,

And his illustrious sons among themselves

Portion’d his goods by lot; to me, indeed,

They gave a dwelling, and but little more,

Yet, for my virtuous qualities, I won

A wealthy bride, for I was neither vain

Nor base, forlorn as thou perceiv’st me now.          260

But thou canst guess, I judge, viewing the straw

What once was in the ear. Ah! I have borne

Much tribulation; heap’d and heavy woes.

Courage and phalanx-breaking might had I

From Mars and Pallas; at what time I drew,

(Planning some dread exploit) an ambush forth

Of our most valiant Chiefs, no boding fears

Of death seized me, but foremost far of all

I sprang to fight, and pierced the flying foe.

Such was I once in arms. But household toils          270

Sustain’d for children’s sake, and carking cares

T’ enrich a family, were not for me.

My pleasures were the gallant bark, the din

Of battle, the smooth spear and glitt’ring shaft,

Objects of dread to others, but which me

The Gods disposed to love and to enjoy.

Thus diff’rent minds are diff’rently amused;

For ere Achaia’s fleet had sailed to Troy,

Nine times was I commander of an host

Embark’d against a foreign foe, and found          280

In all those enterprizes great success.

From the whole booty, first, what pleased me most

Chusing, and sharing also much by lot

I rapidly grew rich, and had thenceforth

Among the Cretans rev’rence and respect.

But when loud-thund’ring Jove that voyage dire

Ordain’d, which loos’d the knees of many a Greek,

Then, to Idomeneus and me they gave

The charge of all their fleet, which how to avoid

We found not, so importunate the cry          290

Of the whole host impell’d us to the task.

There fought we nine long years, and in the tenth

(Priam’s proud city pillag’d) steer’d again

Our galleys homeward, which the Gods dispersed.

Then was it that deep-planning Jove devised

For me much evil. One short month, no more,

I gave to joys domestic, in my wife

Happy, and in my babes, and in my wealth,

When the desire seiz’d me with sev’ral ships

Well-rigg’d, and furnish’d all with gallant crews,          300

To sail for Ægypt; nine I fitted forth,

To which stout mariners assembled fast.

Six days the chosen partners of my voyage

Feasted, to whom I num’rous victims gave

For sacrifice, and for their own regale.

Embarking on the sev’nth from spacious Crete,

Before a clear breeze prosp’rous from the North

We glided easily along, as down

A river’s stream; nor one of all my ships

Damage incurr’d, but healthy and at ease          310

We sat, while gales well-managed urged us on.

The fifth day thence, smooth-flowing Nile we reach’d,

And safe I moor’d in the Ægyptian stream.

Then, charging all my mariners to keep

Strict watch for preservation of the ships,

I order’d spies into the hill-tops; but they

Under the impulse of a spirit rash

And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fields

Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led

Their wives and little ones, and slew the men.          320

Soon was the city alarm’d, and at the cry

Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,

With horse and foot, and with the gleam of arms

Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread

Struck all my people; none found courage more

To stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.

There, num’rous by the glittering spear we fell

Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thence

Alive to servitude. But Jove himself

My bosom with this thought inspired, (I would          330

That, dying, I had first fulfill’d my fate

In Ægypt, for new woes were yet to come!)

Loosing my brazen casque, and slipping off

My buckler, there I left them on the field,

Then cast my spear away, and seeking, next,

The chariot of the sov’reign, clasp’d his knees,

And kiss’d them. He, by my submission moved,

Deliver’d me, and to his chariot-seat

Raising, convey’d me weeping to his home.

With many an ashen spear his warriors sought          340

To slay me, (for they now grew fiery wroth)

But he, through fear of hospitable Jove,

Chief punisher of wrong, saved me alive.

Sev’n years I there abode, and much amass’d

Among the Ægyptians, gifted by them all;

But, in the eighth revolving year, arrived

A shrewd Phœnician, in all fraud adept,

Hungry, and who had num’rous harm’d before,

By whom I also was cajoled, and lured

T’ attend him to Phœnicia, where his house          350

And his possessions lay; there I abode

A year complete his inmate; but (the days

And months accomplish’d of the rolling year,

And the new seasons ent’ring on their course)

To Lybia then, on board his bark, by wiles

He won me with him, partner of the freight

Profess’d, but destin’d secretly to sale,

That he might profit largely by my price.

Not unsuspicious, yet constrain’d to go,

With this man I embark’d. A cloudless gale          360

Propitious blowing from the North, our ship

Ran right before it through the middle sea,

In the offing over Crete; but adverse Jove

Destruction plann’d for them and death the while.

For, Crete now left afar, and other land

Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,

Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove

A cloud cærulean hung, dark’ning the Deep.

Then, thund’ring oft, he hurl’d into the bark

His bolts; she smitten by the fires of Jove,          370

Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,

And, o’er her sides precipitated, plunged

Like gulls the crew, forbidden by that stroke

Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

But Jove himself, when I had cast away

All hope of life, conducted to my arms

The strong tall mast, that I might yet escape.

Around that beam I clung, driving before

The stormy blast. Nine days complete I drove,

And, on the tenth dark night, the rolling flood          380

Immense convey’d me to Thesprotia’s shore.

There me the Hero Phidon, gen’rous King

Of the Thesprotians, freely entertained;

For his own son discov’ring me with toil

Exhausted and with cold, raised me, and thence

Led me humanely to his father’s house,

Who cherish’d me, and gave me fresh attire.

There heard I of Ulysses, whom himself

Had entertain’d, he said, on his return

To his own land; he shew’d me also gold,          390

Brass, and bright steel elab’rate, whatsoe’er

Ulysses had amass’d, a store to feed

A less illustrious family than his

To the tenth generation, so immense

His treasures in the royal palace lay.

Himself, he said, was to Dodona gone,

There, from the tow’ring oaks of Jove to ask

Counsel divine, if openly to land

(After long absence) in his opulent realm

Of Ithaca, be best, or in disguise.          400

To me the monarch swore, in his own hall

Pouring libation, that the ship was launch’d,

And the crew ready for his conduct home.

But me he first dismiss’d, for, as it chanced,

A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound

To green Dulichium’s isle. He bade the crew

Bear me to King Acastus with all speed;

But them far other thoughts pleased more, and thoughts

Of harm to me, that I might yet be plunged

In deeper gulphs of woe than I had known.          410

For, when the billow-cleaving bark had left

The land remote, framing, combined, a plot

Against my liberty, they stripp’d my vest

And mantle, and this tatter’d raiment foul

Gave me instead, which thy own eyes behold.

At even-tide reaching the cultur’d coast

Of Ithaca, they left me bound on board

With tackle of the bark, and quitting ship

Themselves, made hasty supper on the shore.

But me, meantime, the Gods easily loos’d          420

By their own pow’r, when, with wrapper vile

Around my brows, sliding into the sea

At the ship’s stern, I lay’d me on the flood.

With both hands oaring thence my course, I swam

Till past all ken of theirs; then landing where

Thick covert of luxuriant trees I mark’d,

Close couchant down I lay; they mutt’ring loud,

Paced to and fro, but deeming farther search

Unprofitable, soon embark’d again.

Thus baffling all their search with ease, the Gods          430

Conceal’d and led me thence to the abode

Of a wise man, dooming me still to live.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply,

Alas! my most compassionable guest!

Thou hast much moved me by this tale minute

Of thy sad wand’rings and thy num’rous woes.

But, speaking of Ulysses, thou hast pass’d

All credence; I at least can give thee none.

Why, noble as thou art, should’st thou invent

Palpable falsehoods? as for the return          440

Of my regretted Lord, myself I know

That had he not been hated by the Gods

Unanimous, he had in battle died

At Troy, or (that long doubtful war, at last,

Concluded,) in his people’s arms at home.

Then universal Greece had raised his tomb,

And he had even for his son atchiev’d

Immortal glory; but alas! by beaks

Of harpies torn, unseemly sight, he lies.

Here is my home the while; I never seek          450

The city, unless summon’d by discrete

Penelope to listen to the news

Brought by some stranger, whencesoe’er arrived.

Then, all, alike inquisitive, attend,

Both who regret the absence of our King,

And who rejoice gratuitous to gorge

His property; but as for me, no joy

Find I in list’ning after such reports,

Since an Ætolian cozen’d me, who found

(After long wand’ring over various lands          460

A fugitive for blood) my lone retreat.

Him warm I welcom’d, and with open arms

Receiv’d, who bold affirm’d that he had seen

My master with Idomeneus at Crete

His ships refitting shatter’d by a storm,

And that in summer with his godlike band

He would return, bringing great riches home,

Or else in autumn. And thou ancient guest

Forlorn! since thee the Gods have hither led,

Seek not to gratify me with untruths          470

And to deceive me, since for no such cause

I shall respect or love thee, but alone

By pity influenced, and the fear of Jove.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Thou hast, in truth, a most incredulous mind,

Whom even with an oath I have not moved,

Or aught persuaded. Come then—let us make

In terms express a cov’nant, and the Gods

Who hold Olympus, witness to us both!

If thy own Lord at this thy house arrive,          480

Thou shalt dismiss me decently attired

In vest and mantle, that I may repair

Hence to Dulichium, whither I would go.

But, if thy Lord come not, then, gath’ring all

Thy servants, headlong hurl me from a rock,

That other mendicants may fear to lie.

To whom the generous swine-herd in return.

Yes, stranger! doubtless I should high renown

Obtain for virtue among men, both now

And in all future times, if, having first          490

Invited thee, and at my board regaled,

I, next, should slay thee; then my pray’rs would mount,

Past question, swiftly to Saturnian Jove.

But the hour calls to supper, and, ere long,

The partners of my toils will come prepared

To spread the board with no unsav’ry cheer.

Thus they conferr’d. And now the swains arrived,

Driving their charge, which fast they soon enclosed

Within their customary penns, and loud

The hubbub was of swine prison’d within.          500

Then call’d the master to his rustic train.

Bring ye the best, that we may set him forth

Before my friend from foreign climes arrived,

With whom ourselves will also feast, who find

The bright-tusk’d multitude a painful charge,

While others, at no cost of theirs, consume

Day after day, the profit of our toils.

So saying, his wood for fuel he prepared,

And dragging thither a well-fatted brawn

Of the fifth year his servants held him fast          510

At the hearth-side. Nor failed the master swain

T’ adore the Gods, (for wise and good was he)

But consecration of the victim, first,

Himself performing, cast into the fire

The forehead bristles of the tusky boar,

Then pray’d to all above, that, safe, at length,

Ulysses might regain his native home.

Then lifting an huge shive that lay beside

The fire, he smote the boar, and dead he fell,

Next, piercing him, and scorching close his hair,          520

They carv’d him quickly, and Eumæus spread

Thin slices crude taken from ev’ry limb

O’er all his fat, then other slices cast,

Sprinkling them first with meal, into the fire.

The rest they slash’d and scored, and roasted well,

And placed it, heap’d together, on the board.

Then rose the good Eumæus to his task

Of distribution, for he understood

The hospitable entertainer’s part.

Sev’n-fold partition of the banquet made,          530

He gave, with previous pray’r, to Maia’s son[63]

And to the nymphs one portion of the whole,

Then served his present guests, honouring first

Ulysses with the boar’s perpetual chine;

By that distinction just his master’s heart

He gratified, and thus the Hero spake.

Eumæus! be thou as belov’d of Jove

As thou art dear to me, whom, though attired

So coarsely, thou hast served with such respect!

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.          540

Eat, noble stranger! and refreshment take

Such as thou may’st; God[64] gives, and God denies

At his own will, for He is Lord of all.

He said, and to the everlasting Gods

The firstlings sacrificed of all, then made

Libation, and the cup placed in the hands

Of city-spoiler Laertiades

Sitting beside his own allotted share.

Meantime, Mesaulius bread dispensed to all,

Whom, in the absence of his Lord, himself          550

Eumæus had from Taphian traders bought

With his own proper goods, at no expence

Either to old Laertes or the Queen.

And now, all stretch’d their hands toward the feast

Reeking before them, and when hunger none

Felt more or thirst, Mesaulius clear’d the board.

Then, fed to full satiety, in haste

Each sought his couch. Black came a moonless night,

And Jove all night descended fast in show’rs,

With howlings of the ever wat’ry West.          560

Ulysses, at that sound, for trial sake

Of his good host, if putting off his cloak

He would accommodate him, or require

That service for him at some other hand,

Addressing thus the family, began.

Hear now, Eumæus, and ye other swains

His fellow-lab’rers! I shall somewhat boast,

By wine befool’d, which forces ev’n the wise

To carol loud, to titter and to dance,

And words to utter, oft, better suppress’d.          570

But since I have begun, I shall proceed,

Prating my fill. Ah might those days return

With all the youth and strength that I enjoy’d,

When in close ambush, once, at Troy we lay!

Ulysses, Menelaus, and myself

Their chosen coadjutor, led the band.

Approaching to the city’s lofty wall

Through the thick bushes and the reeds that gird

The bulwarks, down we lay flat in the marsh,

Under our arms, then Boreas blowing loud,          580

A rueful night came on, frosty and charged

With snow that blanch’d us thick as morning rime,

And ev’ry shield with ice was crystall’d o’er.

The rest with cloaks and vests well cover’d, slept

Beneath their bucklers; I alone my cloak,

Improvident, had left behind, no thought

Conceiving of a season so severe;

Shield and belt, therefore, and nought else had I.

The night, at last, nigh spent, and all the stars

Declining in their course, with elbow thrust          590

Against Ulysses’ side I roused the Chief,

And thus address’d him ever prompt to hear.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

I freeze to death. Help me, or I am lost.

No cloak have I; some evil dæmon, sure,

Beguil’d me of all prudence, that I came

Thus sparely clad; I shall, I must expire.

So I; he, ready as he was in arms

And counsel both, the remedy at once

Devised, and thus, low-whisp’ring, answer’d me.          600

Hush! lest perchance some other hear—He said,

And leaning on his elbow, spake aloud.

My friends! all hear—a monitory dream

Hath reach’d me, for we lie far from the ships.

Haste, therefore, one of you, with my request

To Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, our Chief,

That he would reinforce us from the camp.

He spake, and at the word, Andræmon’s son

Thoas arose, who, casting off his cloak,

Ran thence toward the ships, and folded warm          610

Within it, there lay I till dawn appear’d.

Oh for the vigour of such youth again!

Then, some good peasant here, either for love

Or for respect, would cloak a man like me,

Whom, now, thus sordid in attire ye scorn.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

My ancient guest! I cannot but approve

Thy narrative, nor hast thou utter’d aught

Unseemly, or that needs excuse. No want

Of raiment, therefore, or of aught beside          620

Needful to solace penury like thine,

Shall harm thee here; yet, at the peep of dawn

Gird thy own tatters to thy loins again;

For we have no great store of cloaks to boast,

Or change of vests, but singly one for each.

But when Ulysses’ son shall once arrive,

He will himself with vest and mantle both

Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st.

So saying, he rose, and nearer made his couch

To the hearth-side, spreading it thick with skins          630

Of sheep and goats; then lay the Hero down,

O’er whom a shaggy mantle large he threw,

Which oft-times served him with a change, when rough

The winter’s blast and terrible arose.

So was Ulysses bedded, and the youths

Slept all beside him; but the master-swain

Chose not his place of rest so far remote

From his rude charge, but to the outer court

With his nocturnal furniture, repair’d,

Gladd’ning Ulysses’ heart that one so true          640

In his own absence kept his rural stores.

Athwart his sturdy shoulders, first, he flung

His faulchion keen, then wrapp’d him in a cloak

Thick-woven, winter-proof; he lifted, next,

The skin of a well-thriven goat, in bulk

Surpassing others, and his javelin took

Sharp-pointed, with which dogs he drove and men.

Thus arm’d, he sought his wonted couch beneath

A hollow rock where the herd slept, secure

From the sharp current of the Northern blast.          650

[61] Δῖος ὑφορβος.—The swineherd’s was therefore in those days, and in that country, an occupation honourable as well as useful. Barnes deems the epithet δῖος significant of his noble birth. Vide Clarke in loco.

[62] It may be proper to suggest that Ulysses was lord of part of the continent opposite to Ithaca—viz.—of the peninsula Nericus or Leuca, which afterward became an island, and is now called Santa Maura. F.

[63] Mercury.

[64] Θεος—without a relative, and consequently signifying GOD in the abstract, is not unfrequently found in Homer, though fearing to give offence to serious minds unacquainted with the original, I have not always given it that force in the translation. But here, the sentiment is such as fixes the sense intended by the author with a precision that leaves no option. It is observable too, that δυναται γαρ απαντα—is an ascription of power such as the poet never makes to his Jupiter.

end chapter

BOOK XV

ARGUMENT

Telemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime Eumæus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to Eumæus.

Meantime to Lacedæmon’s spacious vale

Minerva went, that she might summon thence

Ulysses’ glorious son to his own home.

Arrived, she found Telemachus reposed

And Nestor’s son beneath the vestibule

Of Menelaus, mighty Chief; she saw

Pisistratus in bands of gentle sleep

Fast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mind

No rest enjoy’d, by filial cares disturb’d

Amid the silent night, when, drawing near          10

To his couch side, the Goddess thus began.

Thou canst no longer prudently remain

A wand’rer here, Telemachus! thy home

Abandon’d, and those haughty suitors left

Within thy walls; fear lest, partition made

Of thy possessions, they devour the whole,

And in the end thy voyage bootless prove.

Delay not; from brave Menelaus ask

Dismission hence, that thou may’st find at home

Thy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge          20

And her own father even now to wed

Eurymachus, in gifts and in amount

Of proffer’d dow’r superior to them all.

Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy house

Be taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare.

For well thou know’st how woman is disposed;

Her whole anxiety is to encrease

His substance whom she weds; no care hath she

Of her first children, or remembers more

The buried husband of her virgin choice.          30

Returning then, to her of all thy train

Whom thou shalt most approve, the charge commit

Of thy concerns domestic, till the Gods

Themselves shall guide thee to a noble wife.

Hear also this, and mark it. In the frith

Samos the rude, and Ithaca between,

The chief of all her suitors thy return

In vigilant ambush wait, with strong desire

To slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore,

But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide          40

Many a lewd reveller at thy expence.

Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar,

And voyage make by night; some guardian God

Shall save thee, and shall send thee prosp’rous gales.

Then, soon as thou attain’st the nearest shore

Of Ithaca, dispatching to the town

Thy bark with all thy people, seek at once

The swine-herd; for Eumæus is thy friend.

There sleep, and send him forth into the town

With tidings to Penelope, that safe          50

Thou art restored from Pylus home again.

She said, and sought th’ Olympian heights sublime.

Then, with his heel shaking him, he awoke

The son of Nestor, whom he thus address’d.

Rise, Nestor’s son, Pisistratus! lead forth

The steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart.

To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.

Telemachus! what haste soe’er we feel,

We can by no means prudently attempt

To drive by night, and soon it will be dawn.          60

Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus’ son,

Spear-practis’d Menelaus shall his gifts

Place in the chariot, and with kind farewell

Dismiss thee; for the guest in mem’ry holds

Through life, the host who treats him as a friend.

Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawn

Appearing, Menelaus, from the side

Of beauteous Helen ris’n, their bed approach’d,

Whose coming when Telemachus perceived,

Cloathing himself hastily in his vest          70

Magnificent, and o’er his shoulders broad

Casting his graceful mantle, at the door

He met the Hero, whom he thus address’d.

Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!

Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again,

My native isle, for I desire to go.

Him answer’d Menelaus famed in arms.

Telemachus! I will not long delay

Thy wish’d return. I disapprove alike

The host whose assiduity extreme          80

Distresses, and whose negligence offends;

The middle course is best; alike we err,

Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain,

And hind’ring the impatient to depart.

This only is true kindness—To regale

The present guest, and speed him when he would.

Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid gifts

Placed in thy chariot, and till I command

My women from our present stores to spread

The table with a plentiful repast.          90

For both the honour of the guest demands,

And his convenience also, that he eat

Sufficient, ent’ring on a length of road.

But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy way

And traverse Argos, I will, then, myself

Attend thee; thou shalt journey with my steeds

Beneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guide

To many a city, whence we shall not go

Ungratified, but shall in each receive

Some gift at least, tripod, or charger bright,          100

Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!

I would at once depart, (for guardian none

Of my possessions have I left behind)

Lest, while I seek my father, I be lost

Myself, or lose what I should grudge to spare.

Which when the valiant Menelaus heard,

He bade his spouse and maidens spread the board

At once with remnants of the last regale.          110

Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus’ son

Newly aris’n, for nigh at hand he dwelt,

Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fire

By which to dress their food, and he obey’d.

He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought,

Not sole, but by his spouse and by his son

Attended, Megapenthes. There arrived

Where all his treasures lay, Atrides, first,

Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign’d

To his son’s hand an argent beaker bright.          120

Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stood

Where lay her variegated robes, fair works

Of her own hand. Producing one, in size

And in magnificence the chief, a star

For splendour, and the lowest placed of all,

Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence.

Then, all proceeding through the house, they sought

Telemachus again, whom reaching, thus

The Hero of the golden locks began.

May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno’s mate,          130

Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage home

As thy own heart desires! accept from all

My stores selected as the richest far

And noblest gift for finish’d beauty—This.

I give thee wrought elaborate a cup,

Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.

It is the work of Vulcan, which to me

The Hero Phædimus imparted, King

Of the Sidonians, when, on my return,

Beneath his roof I lodg’d. I make it thine.          140

So saying, the Hero, Atreus’ son, the cup

Placed in his hands, and Megapenthes set

Before him, next, the argent beaker bright;

But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robe

Presented to him, whom she thus address’d.

I also give thee, oh my son, a gift,

Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose hands

Wrought it; a present on thy nuptial day

For thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safe

In thy own mother’s keeping. Now, farewell!          150

Prosp’rous and happy be thy voyage home!

She ceas’d, and gave it to him, who the gift

Accepted glad, and in the chariot-chest

Pisistratus the Hero all disposed,

Admiring them the while. They, following, next,

The Hero Menelaus to his hall

Each on his couch or on his throne reposed.

A maiden, then, with golden ewer charged

And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,

And spread the polish’d table, which with food          160

Various, selected from her present stores,

The mistress of the household charge supplied.

Boetheus’ son stood carver, and to each

His portion gave, while Megapenthes, son

Of glorious Menelaus, serv’d the cup.

Then, all with outstretch’d hands the feast assail’d,

And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wine

They felt, Telemachus and Nestor’s son

Yoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seat

In the resplendent chariot, drove at once          170

Right through the sounding portico abroad.

But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair’d,

A golden cup bearing with richest wine

Replete in his right hand, follow’d them forth,

That not without libation first perform’d

They might depart; he stood before the steeds,

And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake.

Health to you both, young friends! and from my lips

Like greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief,

For he was ever as a father kind          180

To me, while the Achaians warr’d at Troy.

To whom Telemachus discrete replied.

And doubtless, so we will; at our return

We will report to him, illustrious Prince!

Thy ev’ry word. And oh, I would to heav’n

That reaching Ithaca, I might at home

Ulysses hail as sure, as I shall hence

Depart, with all benevolence by thee

Treated, and rich in many a noble gift.

While thus he spake, on his right hand appear’d          190

An eagle; in his talons pounced he bore

A white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta’en

From the house-court. Ran females all and males

Clamorous after him; but he the steeds

Approaching on the right, sprang into air.

That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv’d

They view’d, and thus Pisistratus his speech

Amid them all to Menelaus turn’d.

Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief!

If us, this omen, or thyself regard.          200

While warlike Menelaus musing stood

What answer fit to frame, Helen meantime,

His spouse long-stoled preventing him, began.

Hear me; for I will answer as the Gods

Teach me, and as I think shall come to pass.

As he, descending from his place of birth

The mountains, caught our pamper’d goose away,

So shall Ulysses, after many woes

And wand’rings to his home restored, avenge

His wrongs, or even now is at his home          210

For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Oh grant it Jove, Juno’s high-thund’ring mate!

So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray’r

Thee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine.

He said, and lash’d the coursers; fiery they

And fleet, sprang through the city to the plain.

All day the yoke on either side they shook,

Journeying swift; and now the setting sun

To gloomy evening had resign’d the roads,          220

When they to Pheræ came, and in the house

Of good Diocles slept, their lib’ral host,

Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang.

But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn,

Look’d rosy from the East, yoking their steeds,

They in the sumptuous chariot sat again.

Forth through the vestibule they drove, and through

The sounding portico, when Nestor’s son

Plied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds.

Thus whirl’d along, soon they approach’d the gates          230

Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speech

Turning to his companion, thus began.

How, son of Nestor! shall I win from thee

Not promise only, but performance kind

Of my request? we are not bound alone

To friendship by the friendship of our sires,

But by equality of years, and this

Our journey shall unite us still the more.

Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend!

Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side,          240

Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will,

Detain me in his palace through desire

To feast me, for I dread the least delay.

He spake; then mused Pisistratus how best

He might effect the wishes of his friend,

And thus at length resolved; turning his steeds

With sudden deviation to the shore

He sought the bark, and placing in the stern

Both gold and raiment, the illustrious gifts

Of Menelaus, thus, in accents wing’d          250

With ardour, urged Telemachus away.

Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board,

Ere my arrival notice give of thine

To the old King; for vehement I know

His temper, neither will he let thee hence,

But, hasting hither, will himself enforce

Thy longer stay, that thou may’st not depart

Ungifted; nought will fire his anger more.

So saying, he to the Pylian city urged

His steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate          260

Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantime

Telemachus exhorted thus his crew.

My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climb

The sable bark, for I would now return.

He spake; they heard him gladly, and at once

All fill’d the benches. While his voyage he

Thus expedited, and beside the stern

To Pallas sacrifice perform’d and pray’d,

A stranger, born remote, who had escaped

From Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer          270

And of Melampus’ progeny, approach’d.

Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt,

Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown’d

And the magnificence of his abode.

He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King,

The mighty Neleus[65], migrated at length

Into another land, whose wealth, the while,

Neleus by force possess’d a year complete.

Meantime, Melampus in the house endured

Of Phylacus imprisonment and woe,          280

And burn’d with wrath for Neleus’ daughter sake

By fell Erynnis kindled in his heart.

But, ’scaping death, he drove the lowing beeves

From Phylace to Pylus, well avenged

His num’rous injuries at Neleus’ hands

Sustain’d, and gave into his brother’s arms

King Neleus’ daughter fair, the promis’d bride.

To Argos steed-renown’d he journey’d next,

There destin’d to inhabit and to rule

Multitudes of Achaians. In that land          290

He married, built a palace, and became

Father of two brave sons, Antiphates

And Mantius; to Antiphates was born

The brave Oïcleus; from Oïcleus sprang

Amphiaraüs, demagogue renown’d,

Whom with all tenderness, and as a friend

Alike the Thund’rer and Apollo prized;

Yet reach’d he not the bounds of hoary age.

But by his mercenary consort’s arts[66]

Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes.          300

He ’gat Alcmæon and Amphilocus.

Mantius was also father of two sons,

Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass’d

From earth to heav’n, and dwells among the Gods,

Stol’n by Aurora for his beauty’s sake.

But (brave Amphiaraüs once deceased)

Phœbus exalted Polyphides far

Above all others in the prophet’s part.

He, anger’d by his father, roam’d away

To Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown’d          310

Throughout all lands the oracle of all.

His son, named Theoclymenus, was he

Who now approach’d; he found Telemachus

Libation off’ring in his bark, and pray’r,

And in wing’d accents ardent him address’d.

Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this place

I find thee, by these sacred rites and those

Whom thou ador’st, and by thy own dear life,

And by the lives of these thy mariners

I beg true answer; hide not what I ask.          320

Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

I will inform thee, stranger! and will solve

Thy questions with much truth. I am by birth

Ithacan, and Ulysses was my sire.

But he hath perish’d by a woeful death,

And I, believing it, with these have plow’d

The ocean hither, int’rested to learn

A father’s fate long absent from his home.

Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus.          330

I also am a wand’rer, having slain

A man of my own tribe; brethren and friends

Num’rous had he in Argos steed-renown’d,

And pow’rful are the Achaians dwelling there.

From them, through terrour of impending death,

I fly, a banish’d man henceforth for ever.

Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest death

O’ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit.

Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.

I shall not, be assured, since thou desir’st          340

To join me, chace thee from my bark away.

Follow me, therefore, and with us partake,

In Ithaca, what best the land affords.

So saying, he at the stranger’s hand received

His spear, which on the deck he lay’d, then climb’d

Himself the bark, and, seated in the stern,

At his own side placed Theoclymenus.

They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voice

Telemachus exhorted all to hand

The tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey’d.          350

The tall mast heaving, in its socket deep

They lodg’d it, and its cordage braced secure,

Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.

Fair wind, and blowing fresh through æther pure

Minerva sent them, that the bark might run

Her nimblest course through all the briny way.

Now sank the sun, and dusky ev’ning dimm’d

The waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,

His bark stood right for Pheræ; thence she stretch’d

To sacred Elis where the Epeans rule,          360

And through the sharp Echinades he next

Steer’d her, uncertain whether fate ordain’d

His life or death, surprizal or escape.

Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ate

Their cottage-mess, and the assistant swains

Theirs also; and when hunger now and thirst

Had ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,

Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,

And anxious for his good, he would intreat

His stay, or thence hasten him to the town.          370

Eumæus, and all ye his servants, hear!

It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,

Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawn

The city, there to beg—But give me first

Needful instructions, and a trusty guide

Who may conduct me thither; there my task

Must be to roam the streets; some hand humane

Perchance shall give me a small pittance there,

A little bread, and a few drops to drink.

Ulysses’ palace I shall also seek,          380

And to discrete Penelope report

My tidings; neither shall I fail to mix

With those imperious suitors, who, themselves

Full-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.

Me shall they find, in whatsoe’er they wish

Their ready servitor, for (understand

And mark me well) the herald of the skies,

Hermes, from whom all actions of mankind

Their grace receive and polish, is my friend,

So that in menial offices I fear          390

No rival, whether I be called to heap

The hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,

To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,

As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.

To whom, Eumæus! at those words displeased,

Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought

Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve

Is altogether fixt to perish there,

If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng

To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts          400

Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.

None, such as thou, serve them; their servitors

Are youths well-cloak’d, well-vested; sleek their heads,

And smug their countenances; such alone

Are their attendants, and the polish’d boards

Groan overcharg’d with bread, with flesh, with wine.

Rest here content; for neither me nor these

Thou weariest aught, and when Ulysses’ son

Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair

Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st.          410

To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.

I wish thee, O Eumæus! dear to Jove

As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve

Vouchsafed me kind, from wand’ring and from woe!

No worse condition is of mortal man

Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv’n

By woe and by misfortune homeless forth,

A thousand mis’ries, day by day, endures.

Since thou detain’st me, then, and bidd’st me wait

His coming, tell me if the father still          420

Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,

He left so nearly on the verge of life?

And lives his mother? or have both deceased

Already, and descended to the shades?

To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.

I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,

Of all that thou hast ask’d. Laertes lives,

But supplication off’ring to the Gods

Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life,

So deeply his long-absent son he mourns,          430

And the dear consort of his early youth,

Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought

Old age on him, or ere its date arrived.

She died of sorrow for her glorious son,

And died deplorably;[67] may never friend

Of mine, or benefactor die as she!

While yet she liv’d, dejected as she was,

I found it yet some solace to converse

With her, who rear’d me in my childish days,

Together with her lovely youngest-born          440

The Princess Ctimena; for side by side

We grew, and I, scarce honour’d less than she.

But soon as our delightful prime we both

Attain’d, to Samos her they sent, a bride,

And were requited with rich dow’r; but me

Cloath’d handsomely with tunic and with vest,

And with fair sandals furnish’d, to the field

She order’d forth, yet loved me still the more.

I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav’n

Prospers the work on which I here attend;          450

Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence

Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.

But kindness none experience I, or can,

From fair Penelope (my mistress now)

In word or action, so is the house curs’d

With that lewd throng. Glad would the servants be

Might they approach their mistress, and receive

Advice from her; glad too to eat and drink,

And somewhat bear each to his rural home,

For perquisites are ev’ry servant’s joy.          460

Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return’d.

Alas! good swain, Eumæus, how remote

From friends and country wast thou forced to roam

Ev’n in thy infancy! But tell me true.

The city where thy parents dwelt, did foes

Pillage it? or did else some hostile band

Surprizing thee alone, on herd or flock

Attendant, bear thee with them o’er the Deep,

And sell thee at this Hero’s house, who pay’d

Doubtless for thee no sordid price or small?          470

To whom the master swine-herd in reply.

Stranger! since thou art curious to be told

My story, silent listen, and thy wine

At leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,

And such as time for sleep afford, and time

For pleasant conf’rence; neither were it good

That thou should’st to thy couch before thy hour,

Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.

Whoever here is weary, and desires

Early repose, let him depart to rest,          480

And, at the peep of day, when he hath fed

Sufficiently, drive forth my master’s herd;

But we with wine and a well-furnish’d board

Supplied, will solace mutually derive

From recollection of our sufferings past;

For who hath much endured, and wander’d far,

Finds the recital ev’n of sorrow sweet.

Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!

There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,

Of such an isle) named Syria;[68] it is placed          490

Above Ortigia, and a dial owns[69]

True to the tropic changes of the year.

No great extent she boasts, yet is she rich

In cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.

No famine knows that people, or disease

Noisome, of all that elsewhere seize the race

Of miserable man; but when old age

Steals on the citizens, Apollo, arm’d

With silver bow and bright Diana come,

Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest.          500

Two cities share between them all the isle,

And both were subject to my father’s sway

Ctesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.

It chanced that from Phœnicia, famed for skill

In arts marine, a vessel thither came

By sharpers mann’d, and laden deep with toys.

Now, in my father’s family abode

A fair Phœnician, tall, full-sized, and skill’d

In works of elegance, whom they beguiled.

While she wash’d linen on the beach, beside          510

The ship, a certain mariner of those

Seduced her; for all women, ev’n the wise

And sober, feeble prove by love assail’d.

Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor she

Scrupled to tell at once her father’s home.

I am of Sidon,[70] famous for her works

In brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,

Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thence

Stole me returning from the field, from whom

This Chief procured me at no little cost.          520

Then answer thus her paramour return’d.

Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,

That thou may’st once more visit the abode

Of thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?

For still they live, and still are wealthy deem’d.

To whom the woman. Even that might be,

Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oath

Assure me of a safe conveyance home.

Then sware the mariners as she required,

And, when their oath was ended, thus again          530

The woman of Phœnicia them bespake.

Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you all

Accost me, though he meet me on the road,

Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler run

With tidings home to my old master’s ear,

Who, with suspicion touch’d, may me confine

In cruel bonds, and death contrive for you.

But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;

And when your vessel shall be freighted full,

Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring          540

What gold soever opportune I find,

And will my passage cheerfully defray

With still another moveable. I nurse

The good man’s son, an urchin shrewd, of age

To scamper at my side; him will I bring,

Whom at some foreign market ye shall prove

Saleable at what price soe’er ye will.

So saying, she to my father’s house return’d.

They, there abiding the whole year, their ship

With purchased goods freighted of ev’ry kind,          550

And when, her lading now complete, she lay

For sea prepared, their messenger arrived

To summon down the woman to the shore.

A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,

Then, ent’ring at my father’s gate, produced

A splendid collar, gold with amber strung.

My mother (then at home) with all her maids

Handling and gazing on it with delight,

Proposed to purchase it, and he the nod

Significant, gave unobserv’d, the while,          560

To the Phœnician woman, and return’d.

She, thus informed, leading me by the hand

Went forth, and finding in the vestibule

The cups and tables which my father’s guests

Had used, (but they were to the forum gone

For converse with their friends assembled there)

Convey’d three cups into her bosom-folds,

And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless child

Accompanied, at the decline of day,

When dusky evening had embrown’d the shore.          570

We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach’d the port

Renown’d, where that Phœnician vessel lay.

They shipp’d us both, and all embarking cleav’d

Their liquid road, by favourable gales,

Jove’s gift, impell’d. Six days we day and night

Continual sailed, but when Saturnian Jove

Now bade the sev’nth bright morn illume the skies,

Then, shaft-arm’d Dian struck the woman dead.

At once she pitch’d headlong into the bilge

Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again,          580

The seamen gave her to be fishes’ food,

And I survived to mourn her. But the winds

And rolling billows them bore to the coast

Of Ithaca, where with his proper goods

Laertes bought me. By such means it chanced

That e’er I saw the isle in which I dwell.

To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.

Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woes

Enumerating thus at large. But Jove

Hath neighbour’d all thy evil with this good,          590

That after num’rous sorrows thou hast reach’d

The house of a kind master, at whose hands

Thy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead’st

A tranquil life; but I have late arrived,

City after city of the world explored.

Thus mutual they conferr’d, nor leisure found

Save for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.

Meantime the comrades of Telemachus

Approaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower’d

Alert the mast, then oar’d the vessel in.          600

The anchors heav’d aground,[71] and hawsers tied

Secure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,

Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.

When neither hunger now, nor thirst remained

Unsatisfied, Telemachus began.

Push ye the sable bark without delay

Home to the city. I will to the field

Among my shepherds, and, (my rural works

Survey’d,) at eve will to the town return.

To-morrow will I set before you wine          610

And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.

To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.

Whither must I, my son? who, of the Chiefs

Of rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?

Shall I to thine and to thy mother’s house?

Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.

I would invite thee to proceed at once

To our abode, since nought should fail thee there

Of kind reception, but it were a course

Now not adviseable; for I must myself,          620

Be absent, neither would my mother’s eyes

Behold thee, so unfrequent she appears

Before the suitors, shunning whom, she sits

Weaving continual at the palace-top.

But I will name to thee another Chief

Whom thou may’st seek, Eurymachus, the son

Renown’d of prudent Polybus, whom all

The people here reverence as a God.

Far noblest of them all is he, and seeks

More ardent than his rivals far, to wed          630

My mother, and to fill my father’s throne.

But, He who dwells above, Jove only knows

If some disastrous day be not ordain’d

For them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.

While thus he spake, at his right hand appear’d,

Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,

A falcon; in his pounces clench’d he bore

A dove, which rending, down he pour’d her plumes

Between the galley and Telemachus.

Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock’d          640

His hand in his, and thus explain’d the sign.

Not undirected by the Gods his flight

On our right hand, Telemachus! this hawk

Hath wing’d propitious; soon as I perceived

I knew him ominous—In all the isle

No family of a more royal note

Than yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.

Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.

Grant heav’n, my guest! that this good word of thine

Fail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share          650

And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,

Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.

Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.

Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of all

My followers to the shore of Pylus, none

More prompt than thou hath my desires perform’d)

Now also to thy own abode conduct

This stranger, whom with hospitable care

Cherish and honour till myself arrive.

To whom Piræus answer’d, spear-renown’d.          660

Telemachus! however long thy stay,

Punctual I will attend him, and no want

Of hospitality shall he find with me.

So saying, he climb’d the ship, then bade the crew

Embarking also, cast the hawsers loose,

And each, obedient, to his bench repair’d.

Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,

And lifted from the deck his glitt’ring spear.

Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,

Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose          670

The hawsers, forth they push’d into the Deep

And sought the city, while with nimble pace

Proceeding thence, Telemachus attain’d

The cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,

The swine-herd, faithful to his num’rous charge.

[65] Iphyclus the son of Phylacus had seized and detained cattle belonging to Neleus; Neleus ordered his nephew Melampus to recover them, and as security for his obedience seized on a considerable part of his possessions. Melampus attempted the service, failed, and was cast into prison; but at length escaping, accomplished his errand, vanquished Neleus in battle, and carried off his daughter Pero, whom Neleus had promised to the brother of Melampus, but had afterward refused her.

[66] His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell accordingly.

[67] She is said to have hanged herself.

[68] Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.

[69] Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο—The Translator has rendered the passage according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island under the Tropic.

[70] A principal city of Phœnicia.

[71] The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.

end chapter

BOOK XVI

ARGUMENT

Telemachus dispatches Eumæus to the city to inform Penelope of his safe return from Pylus; during his absence, Ulysses makes himself known to his son. The suitors, having watched for Telemachus in vain, arrive again at Ithaca.

It was the hour of dawn, when in the cot

Kindling fresh fire, Ulysses and his friend

Noble Eumæus dress’d their morning fare,

And sent the herdsmen with the swine abroad.

Seeing Telemachus, the watchful dogs

Bark’d not, but fawn’d around him. At that sight,

And at the sound of feet which now approach’d,

Ulysses in wing’d accents thus remark’d.

Eumæus! certain, either friend of thine

Is nigh at hand, or one whom well thou know’st;          10

Thy dogs bark not, but fawn on his approach

Obsequious, and the sound of feet I hear.

Scarce had he ceased, when his own son himself

Stood in the vestibule. Upsprang at once

Eumæus wonder-struck, and from his hand

Let fall the cups with which he was employ’d

Mingling rich wine; to his young Lord he ran,

His forehead kiss’d, kiss’d his bright-beaming eyes

And both his hands, weeping profuse the while,

As when a father folds in his embrace          20

Arrived from foreign lands in the tenth year

His darling son, the offspring of his age,

His only one, for whom he long hath mourn’d,

So kiss’d the noble peasant o’er and o’er

Godlike Telemachus, as from death escaped,

And in wing’d accents plaintive thus began.

Light of my eyes, thou com’st; it is thyself,

Sweetest Telemachus! I had no hope

To see thee more, once told that o’er the Deep

Thou hadst departed for the Pylian coast.          30

Enter, my precious son; that I may sooth

My soul with sight of thee from far arrived,

For seldom thou thy feeders and thy farm

Visitest, in the city custom’d much

To make abode, that thou may’st witness there

The manners of those hungry suitors proud.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

It will be so. There is great need, my friend!

But here, for thy sake, have I now arrived,

That I may look on thee, and from thy lips          40

Learn if my mother still reside at home,

Or have become spouse of some other Chief,

Leaving untenanted Ulysses’ bed

To be by noisome spiders webb’d around.

To whom the master swine-herd in return.

Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells

Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days

Despairing wastes, and all her nights in tears.

So saying, Eumæus at his hand received

His brazen lance, and o’er the step of stone          50

Enter’d Telemachus, to whom his sire

Relinquish’d, soon as he appear’d, his seat,

But him Telemachus forbidding, said—

Guest, keep thy seat; our cottage will afford

Some other, which Eumæus will provide.

He ceased, and he, returning at the word,

Reposed again; then good Eumæus spread

Green twigs beneath, which, cover’d with a fleece,

Supplied Ulysses’ offspring with a seat.

He, next, disposed his dishes on the board          60

With relicts charged of yesterday; with bread,

Alert, he heap’d the baskets; with rich wine

His ivy cup replenish’d; and a seat

Took opposite to his illustrious Lord

Ulysses. They toward the plenteous feast

Stretch’d forth their hands, (and hunger now and thirst

Both satisfied) Telemachus, his speech

Addressing to their gen’rous host, began.

Whence is this guest, my father? How convey’d

Came he to Ithaca? What country boast          70

The mariners with whom he here arrived?

For, that on foot he found us not, is sure.

To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

I will with truth answer thee, O my son!

He boasts him sprung from ancestry renown’d

In spacious Crete, and hath the cities seen

Of various lands, by fate ordain’d to roam.

Ev’n now, from a Thesprotian ship escaped,

He reach’d my cottage—but he is thy own;

I yield him to thee; treat him as thou wilt;          80

He is thy suppliant, and depends on thee.

Then thus, Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Thy words, Eumæus, pain my very soul.

For what security can I afford

To any in my house? myself am young,

Nor yet of strength sufficient to repel

An offer’d insult, and my mother’s mind

In doubtful balance hangs, if, still with me

An inmate, she shall manage my concerns,

Attentive only to her absent Lord          90

And her own good report, or shall espouse

The noblest of her wooers, and the best

Entitled by the splendour of his gifts.

But I will give him, since I find him lodg’d

A guest beneath thy roof, tunic and cloak,

Sword double-edged, and sandals for his feet,

With convoy to the country of his choice.

Still, if it please thee, keep him here thy guest,

And I will send him raiment, with supplies

Of all sorts, lest he burthen thee and thine.          100

But where the suitors come, there shall not he

With my consent, nor stand exposed to pride

And petulance like theirs, lest by some sneer

They wound him, and through him, wound also me;

For little is it that the boldest can

Against so many; numbers will prevail.

Him answer’d then Ulysses toil-inured.

Oh amiable and good! since even I

Am free to answer thee, I will avow

My heart within me torn by what I hear          110

Of those injurious suitors, who the house

Infest of one noble as thou appear’st.

But say—submittest thou to their controul

Willingly, or because the people, sway’d

By some response oracular, incline

Against thee? Thou hast brothers, it may chance,

Slow to assist thee—for a brother’s aid

Is of importance in whatever cause.

For oh that I had youth as I have will,

Or that renown’d Ulysses were my sire,          120

Or that himself might wander home again.

Whereof hope yet remains! then might I lose

My head, that moment, by an alien’s hand,

If I would fail, ent’ring Ulysses’ gate,

To be the bane and mischief of them all.

But if alone to multitudes opposed

I should perchance be foiled; nobler it were

With my own people, under my own roof

To perish, than to witness evermore

Their unexampled deeds, guests shoved aside,          130

Maidens dragg’d forcibly from room to room,

Casks emptied of their rich contents, and them

Indulging glutt’nous appetite day by day

Enormous, without measure, without end.

To whom, Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Stranger! thy questions shall from me receive

True answer. Enmity or hatred none

Subsists the people and myself between,

Nor have I brothers to accuse, whose aid

Is of importance in whatever cause,          140

For Jove hath from of old with single heirs

Our house supplied; Arcesias none begat

Except Laertes, and Laertes none

Except Ulysses, and Ulysses me

Left here his only one, and unenjoy’d.

Thence comes it that our palace swarms with foes;

For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,

Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d

Zacynthus, others also rulers here

In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek          150

In marriage, and my household stores consume.

But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d

Refuses absolute, nor yet consents

To end them; they my patrimony waste

Meantime, and will destroy me also soon,

As I expect, but heav’n disposes all.

Eumæus! haste, my father! bear with speed

News to Penelope that I am safe,

And have arrived from Pylus; I will wait

Till thou return; and well beware that none          160

Hear thee beside, for I have many foes.

To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st

To one intelligent. But say beside,

Shall I not also, as I go, inform

Distress’d Laertes? who while yet he mourn’d

Ulysses only, could o’ersee the works,

And dieted among his menials oft

As hunger prompted him, but now, they say,

Since thy departure to the Pylian shore,          170

He neither eats as he was wont, nor drinks,

Nor oversees his hinds, but sighing sits

And weeping, wasted even to the bone.

Him then Telemachus answer’d discrete.

Hard though it be, yet to his tears and sighs

Him leave we now. We cannot what we would.

For, were the ordering of all events

Referr’d to our own choice, our first desire

Should be to see my father’s glad return.

But once thy tidings told, wander not thou          180

In quest of Him, but hither speed again.

Rather request my mother that she send

Her household’s governess without delay

Privately to him; she shall best inform

The ancient King that I have safe arrived.

He said, and urged him forth, who binding on

His sandals, to the city bent his way.

Nor went Eumæus from his home unmark’d

By Pallas, who in semblance of a fair

Damsel, accomplish’d in domestic arts,          190

Approaching to the cottage’ entrance, stood

Opposite, by Ulysses plain discern’d,

But to his son invisible; for the Gods

Appear not manifest alike to all.

The mastiffs saw her also, and with tone

Querulous hid themselves, yet bark’d they not.

She beckon’d him abroad. Ulysses saw

The sign, and, issuing through the outer court,

Approach’d her, whom the Goddess thus bespake.

Laertes’ progeny, for wiles renown’d!          200

Disclose thyself to thy own son, that, death

Concerting and destruction to your foes,

Ye may the royal city seek, nor long

Shall ye my presence there desire in vain,

For I am ardent to begin the fight.

Minerva spake, and with her rod of gold

Touch’d him; his mantle, first, and vest she made

Pure as new-blanch’d; dilating, next, his form,

She gave dimensions ampler to his limbs;

Swarthy again his manly hue became,          210

Round his full face, and black his bushy chin.

The change perform’d, Minerva disappear’d,

And the illustrious Hero turn’d again

Into the cottage; wonder at that sight

Seiz’d on Telemachus; askance he look’d,

Awe-struck, not unsuspicious of a God,

And in wing’d accents eager thus began.

Thou art no longer, whom I lately saw,

Nor are thy cloaths, nor is thy port the same.

Thou art a God, I know, and dwell’st in heav’n.          220

Oh, smile on us, that we may yield thee rites

Acceptable, and present thee golden gifts

Elaborate; ah spare us, Pow’r divine!

To whom Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.

I am no God. Why deem’st thou me divine?

I am thy father, for whose sake thou lead’st

A life of woe, by violence oppress’d.

So saying, he kiss’d his son, while from his cheeks

Tears trickled, tears till then, perforce restrained.

Telemachus, (for he believed him not          230

His father yet) thus, wond’ring, spake again.

My father, said’st thou? no. Thou art not He,

But some Divinity beguiles my soul

With mock’ries to afflict me still the more;

For never mortal man could so have wrought

By his own pow’r; some interposing God

Alone could render thee both young and old,

For old thou wast of late, and foully clad,

But wear’st the semblance, now, of those in heav’n!

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.          240

Telemachus! it is not well, my son!

That thou should’st greet thy father with a face

Of wild astonishment, and stand aghast.

Ulysses, save myself, none comes, be sure.

Such as thou seest, after ten thousand woes

Which I have borne, I visit once again

My native country in the twentieth year.

This wonder Athenæan Pallas wrought,

She cloath’d me even with what form she would,

For so she can. Now poor I seem and old,          250

Now young again, and clad in fresh attire.

The Gods who dwell in yonder heav’n, with ease

Dignify or debase a mortal man.

So saying, he sat. Then threw Telemachus

His arms around his father’s neck, and wept.

Desire intense of lamentation seized

On both; soft murmurs utt’ring, each indulged

His grief, more frequent wailing than the bird,

(Eagle, or hook-nail’d vulture) from whose nest

Some swain hath stol’n her yet unfeather’d young.          260

So from their eyelids they big drops distill’d

Of tend’rest grief, nor had the setting sun

Cessation of their weeping seen, had not

Telemachus his father thus address’d.

What ship convey’d thee to thy native shore,

My father! and what country boast the crew?

For, that on foot thou not arriv’dst, is sure.

Then thus divine Ulysses toil-inured.

My son! I will explicit all relate.

Conducted by Phæacia’s maritime sons          270

I came, a race accustom’d to convey

Strangers who visit them across the Deep.

Me, o’er the billows in a rapid bark

Borne sleeping, on the shores of Ithaca

They lay’d; rich gifts they gave me also, brass,

Gold in full bags, and beautiful attire,

Which, warn’d from heav’n, I have in caves conceal’d.

By Pallas prompted, hither I repair’d

That we might plan the slaughter of our foes,

Whose numbers tell me now, that I may know          280

How pow’rful, certainly, and who they are,

And consultation with my dauntless heart

May hold, if we be able to contend

Ourselves with all, or must have aid beside.

Then, answer thus his son, discrete, return’d.

My father! thy renown hath ever rung

In thy son’s ears, and by report thy force

In arms, and wisdom I have oft been told.

But terribly thou speak’st; amazement-fixt

I hear; can two a multitude oppose,          290

And valiant warriors all? for neither ten

Are they, nor twenty, but more num’rous far.

Learn, now, their numbers. Fifty youths and two

Came from Dulichium; they are chosen men,

And six attendants follow in their train;

From Samos twenty youths and four arrive,

Zacynthus also of Achaia’s sons

Sends twenty more, and our own island adds,

Herself, her twelve chief rulers; Medon, too,

Is there the herald, and the bard divine,          300

With other two, intendants of the board.

Should we within the palace, we alone,

Assail them all, I fear lest thy revenge

Unpleasant to thyself and deadly prove,

Frustrating thy return. But recollect—

Think, if thou canst, on whose confed’rate arm

Strenuous on our behalf we may rely.

To him replied his patient father bold.

I will inform thee. Mark. Weigh well my words.

Will Pallas and the everlasting Sire          310

Alone suffice? or need we other aids?

Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.

Good friends indeed are they whom thou hast named,

Though throned above the clouds; for their controul

Is universal both in earth and heav’n.

To whom Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown’d.

Not long will they from battle stand aloof,

When once, within my palace, in the strength

Of Mars, to sharp decision we shall urge

The suitors. But thyself at early dawn          320

Our mansion seek, that thou may’st mingle there

With that imperious throng; me in due time

Eumæus to the city shall conduct,

In form a miserable beggar old.

But should they with dishonourable scorn

Insult me, thou unmov’d my wrongs endure,

And should they even drag me by the feet

Abroad, or smite me with the spear, thy wrath

Refraining, gently counsel them to cease

From such extravagance; but well I know          330

That cease they will not, for their hour is come.

And mark me well; treasure what now I say

Deep in thy soul. When Pallas shall, herself,

Suggest the measure, then, shaking my brows,

I will admonish thee; thou, at the sign,

Remove what arms soever in the hall

Remain, and in the upper palace safe

Dispose them; should the suitors, missing them,

Perchance interrogate thee, then reply

Gently—I have removed them from the smoke;          340

For they appear no more the arms which erst

Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,

But smirch’d and sullied by the breath of fire.

This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)

Jove taught me; lest, intoxicate with wine,

Ye should assault each other in your brawls,

Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view

Itself of arms incites to their abuse.

Yet leave two faulchions for ourselves alone,

Two spears, two bucklers, which with sudden force          350

Impetuous we will seize, and Jove all-wise

Their valour shall, and Pallas, steal away.

This word store also in remembrance deep—

If mine in truth thou art, and of my blood,

Then, of Ulysses to his home returned

Let none hear news from thee, no, not my sire

Laertes, nor Eumæus, nor of all

The menials any, or ev’n Penelope,

That thou and I, alone, may search the drift

Of our domestic women, and may prove          360

Our serving-men, who honours and reveres

And who contemns us both, but chiefly thee

So gracious and so worthy to be loved.

Him then thus answer’d his illustrious son.

Trust me, my father! thou shalt soon be taught

That I am not of drowsy mind obtuse.

But this I think not likely to avail

Or thee or me; ponder it yet again;

For tedious were the task, farm after farm

To visit of those servants, proving each,          370

And the proud suitors merciless devour

Meantime thy substance, nor abstain from aught.

Learn, if thou wilt, (and I that course myself

Advise) who slights thee of the female train,

And who is guiltless; but I would not try

From house to house the men, far better proved

Hereafter, if in truth by signs from heav’n

Inform’d, thou hast been taught the will of Jove.

Thus they conferr’d. The gallant bark, meantime,

Reach’d Ithaca, which from the Pylian shore          380

Had brought Telemachus with all his band.

Within the many-fathom’d port arrived

His lusty followers haled her far aground,

Then carried thence their arms, but to the house

Of Clytius the illustrious gifts convey’d.

Next to the royal mansion they dispatch’d

An herald charg’d with tidings to the Queen,

That her Telemachus had reach’d the cot

Of good Eumæus, and the bark had sent

Home to the city; lest the matchless dame          390

Should still deplore the absence of her son.

They, then, the herald and the swine-herd, each

Bearing like message to his mistress, met,

And at the palace of the godlike Chief

Arriving, compass’d by the female throng

Inquisitive, the herald thus began.

Thy son, O Queen! is safe; ev’n now return’d.

Then, drawing nigh to her, Eumæus told

His message also from her son received,

And, his commission punctually discharged,          400

Leaving the palace, sought his home again.

Grief seized and anguish, at those tidings, all

The suitors; issuing forth, on the outside

Of the high wall they sat, before the gate,

When Polybus’ son, Eurymachus, began.

My friends! his arduous task, this voyage, deem’d

By us impossible, in our despight

Telemachus hath atchieved. Haste! launch we forth

A sable bark, our best, which let us man

With mariners expert, who, rowing forth          410

Swiftly, shall summon our companions home.

Scarce had he said, when turning where he sat,

Amphinomus beheld a bark arrived

Just then in port; he saw them furling sail,

And seated with their oars in hand; he laugh’d

Through pleasure at that sight, and thus he spake.

Our message may be spared. Lo! they arrive.

Either some God inform’d them, or they saw,

Themselves, the vessel of Telemachus

Too swiftly passing to be reach’d by theirs.          420

He spake; they, rising, hasted to the shore.

Alert they drew the sable bark aground,

And by his servant each his arms dispatch’d

To his own home. Then, all, to council those

Assembling, neither elder of the land

Nor youth allow’d to join them, and the rest

Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, thus bespake.

Ah! how the Gods have rescued him! all day

Perch’d on the airy mountain-top, our spies

Successive watch’d; and, when the sun declined,          430

We never slept on shore, but all night long

Till sacred dawn arose, plow’d the abyss,

Hoping Telemachus, that we might seize

And slay him, whom some Deity hath led,

In our despight, safe to his home again.

But frame we yet again means to destroy

Telemachus; ah—let not Him escape!

For end of this our task, while he survives,

None shall be found, such prudence he displays

And wisdom, neither are the people now          440

Unanimous our friends as heretofore.

Come, then—prevent him, ere he call the Greeks

To council; for he will not long delay,

But will be angry, doubtless, and will tell

Amid them all, how we in vain devised

His death, a deed which they will scarce applaud,

But will, perhaps, punish and drive us forth

From our own country to a distant land.—

Prevent him, therefore, quickly; in the field

Slay him, or on the road; so shall his wealth          450

And his possessions on ourselves devolve

Which we will share equally, but his house

Shall be the Queen’s, and his whom she shall wed.

Yet, if not so inclined, ye rather chuse

That he should live and occupy entire

His patrimony, then, no longer, here

Assembled, let us revel at his cost,

But let us all with spousal gifts produced

From our respective treasures, woo the Queen,

Leaving her in full freedom to espouse          460

Who proffers most, and whom the fates ordain.

He ceased; the assembly silent sat and mute.

Then rose Amphinomus amid them all,

Offspring renown’d of Nisus, son, himself,

Of King Aretias. He had thither led

The suitor train who from the pleasant isle

Corn-clad of green Dulichium had arrived,

And by his speech pleased far beyond them all

Penelope, for he was just and wise,

And thus, well-counselling the rest, began.          470

Not I, my friends! far be the thought from me

To slay Telemachus! it were a deed

Momentous, terrible, to slay a prince.

First, therefore, let us counsel ask of heav’n,

And if Jove’s oracle that course approve,

I will encourage you, and will myself

Be active in his death; but if the Gods

Forbid it, then, by my advice, forbear.

So spake Amphinomus, whom all approved.

Arising then, into Ulysses’ house          480

They went, where each his splendid seat resumed.

A novel purpose occupied, meantime,

Penelope; she purposed to appear

Before her suitors, whose design to slay

Telemachus she had from Medon learn’d,

The herald, for his ear had caught the sound.

Toward the hall with her attendant train

She moved, and when, most graceful of her sex,

Where sat the suitors she arrived, between

The columns standing of the stately dome,          490

And covering with her white veil’s lucid folds

Her features, to Antinoüs thus she spake.

Antinoüs, proud, contentious, evermore

To mischief prone! the people deem thee wise

Past thy compeers, and in all grace of speech

Pre-eminent, but such wast never thou.

Inhuman! why is it thy dark design

To slay Telemachus? and why with scorn

Rejectest thou the suppliant’s pray’r,[72] which Jove

Himself hath witness’d? Plots please not the Gods.          500

Know’st not that thy own father refuge found

Here, when he fled before the people’s wrath

Whom he had irritated by a wrong

Which, with a band of Taphian robbers joined,

He offer’d to the Thesprots, our allies?

They would have torn his heart, and would have laid

All his delights and his possessions waste,

But my Ulysses slaked the furious heat

Of their revenge, whom thou requitest now

Wasting his goods, soliciting his wife,          510

Slaying his son, and filling me with woe.

But cease, I charge thee, and bid cease the rest.

To whom the son of Polybus replied,

Eurymachus.—Icarius’ daughter wise!

Take courage, fair Penelope, and chace

These fears unreasonable from thy mind!

The man lives not, nor shall, who while I live,

And faculty of sight retain, shall harm

Telemachus, thy son. For thus I say,

And thus will I perform; his blood shall stream          520

A sable current from my lance’s point

That moment; for the city-waster Chief

Ulysses, oft, me placing on his knees,

Hath fill’d my infant grasp with sav’ry food,

And giv’n me ruddy wine. I, therefore, hold

Telemachus of all men most my friend,

Nor hath he death to fear from hand of ours.

Yet, if the Gods shall doom him, die he must.

So he encouraged her, who yet, himself,

Plotted his death. She, re-ascending, sought          530

Her stately chamber, and, arriving there,

Deplored with tears her long-regretted Lord

Till Athenæan Pallas azure-eyed

Dews of soft slumber o’er her lids diffused.

And now, at even-tide, Eumæus reach’d

Ulysses and his son. A yearling swine

Just slain they skilfully for food prepared,

When Pallas, drawing nigh, smote with her wand

Ulysses, at the stroke rend’ring him old,

And his apparel sordid as before,          540

Lest, knowing him, the swain at once should seek

Penelope, and let the secret forth.

Then foremost him Telemachus address’d.

Noble Eumæus! thou art come; what news

Bring’st from the city? Have the warrior band

Of suitors, hopeless of their ambush, reach’d

The port again, or wait they still for me?

To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

No time for such enquiry, nor to range,

Curious, the streets had I, but anxious wish’d          550

To make my message known, and to return.

But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent

From thy companions, met me on the way,

Who reach’d thy mother first. Yet this I know,

For this I saw. Passing above the town

Where they have piled a way-side hill of stones

To Mercury, I beheld a gallant bark

Ent’ring the port; a bark she was of ours,

The crew were num’rous, and I mark’d her deep-

Laden with shields and spears of double edge.          560

Theirs I conjectured her, and could no more.

He spake, and by Eumæus unperceived,

Telemachus his father eyed and smiled.

Their task accomplish’d, and the table spread,

They ate, nor any his due portion miss’d,

And hunger, now, and thirst both sated, all

To rest repair’d, and took the gift of sleep.

[72] Alluding probably to entreaties made to him at some former time by herself and Telemachus, that he would not harm them. Clarke.

end chapter

BOOK XVII

ARGUMENT

Telemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumæus, arrives there also, and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by the account which Eumæus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of interruption. Eumæus returns to his cottage.

Now look’d Aurora from the East abroad,

When the illustrious offspring of divine

Ulysses bound his sandals to his feet;

He seiz’d his sturdy spear match’d to his gripe,

And to the city meditating quick

Departure now, the swine-herd thus bespake.

Father! I seek the city, to convince

My mother of my safe return, whose tears,

I judge, and lamentation shall not cease

Till her own eyes behold me. But I lay          10

On thee this charge. Into the city lead,

Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may beg

Provision there, a morsel and a drop

From such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.

I cannot, vext and harass’d as I am,

Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,

The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Nor is it my desire to be detained.

Better the mendicant in cities seeks          20

His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,

Than in the villages. I am not young,

Nor longer of an age that well accords

With rural tasks, nor could I all perform

That it might please a master to command.

Go then, and when I shall have warm’d my limbs

Before the hearth, and when the risen sun

Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant’s task

Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd’st,

For this is a vile garb; the frosty air          30

Of morning would benumb me thus attired,

And, as ye say, the city is remote.

He ended, and Telemachus in haste

Set forth, his thoughts all teeming as he went

With dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courts

Arriving, he reclined his spear against

A column, and proceeded to the hall.

Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,

While on the variegated seats she spread

Their fleecy cov’ring; swift with tearful eyes          40

She flew to him, and the whole female train

Of brave Ulysses swarm’d around his son,

Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck

Kissing affectionate; then came, herself,

As golden Venus or Diana fair,

Forth from her chamber to her son’s embrace,

The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw

Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes

And forehead kiss’d, and with a murmur’d plaint

Maternal, in wing’d accents thus began.          50

Thou hast return’d, light of my eyes! my son!

My lov’d Telemachus! I had no hope

To see thee more when once thou hadst embark’d

For Pylus, privily, and with no consent

From me obtain’d, news seeking of thy sire.

But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor me

From death so lately ’scaped afflict anew,

But, bathed and habited in fresh attire,          60

With all the maidens of thy train ascend

To thy superior chamber, there to vow

A perfect hecatomb to all the Gods,

When Jove shall have avenged our num’rous wrongs.

I seek the forum, there to introduce

A guest, my follower from the Pylian shore,

Whom sending forward with my noble band,

I bade Piræus to his own abode

Lead him, and with all kindness entertain

The stranger, till I should myself arrive.          70

He spake, nor flew his words useless away.

She, bathed and habited in fresh attire,

Vow’d a full hecatomb to all the Gods,

Would Jove but recompense her num’rous wrongs.

Then, spear in hand, went forth her son, two dogs

Fleet-footed following him. O’er all his form

Pallas diffused a dignity divine,

And ev’ry eye gazed on him as he pass’d.

The suitors throng’d him round, joy on their lips

And welcome, but deep mischief in their hearts.          80

He, shunning all that crowd, chose to himself

A seat, where Mentor sat, and Antiphus,

And Halytherses, long his father’s friends

Sincere, who of his voyage much enquired.

Then drew Piræus nigh, leading his guest

Toward the forum; nor Telemachus

Stood long aloof, but greeted his approach,

And was accosted by Piræus thus.

Sir! send thy menial women to bring home

The precious charge committed to my care,          90

Thy gifts at Menelaus’ hands received.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Piræus! wait; for I not yet foresee

The upshot. Should these haughty ones effect

My death, clandestine, under my own roof,

And parcel my inheritance by lot,

I rather wish those treasures thine, than theirs.

But should I with success plan for them all

A bloody death, then, wing’d with joy, thyself

Bring home those presents to thy joyful friend.          100

So saying, he led the anxious stranger thence

Into the royal mansion, where arrived,

Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,

And plung’d his feet into a polish’d bath.

There wash’d and lubricated with smooth oils,

From the attendant maidens each received

Tunic and shaggy mantle. Thus attired,

Forth from the baths they stepp’d, and sat again.

A maiden, next, with golden ewer charged,

And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,          110

And spread the polish’d table, which with food

Of all kinds, remnants of the last regale,

The mistress of the household charge supplied.

Meantime, beside a column of the dome

His mother, on a couch reclining, twirl’d

Her slender threads. They to the furnish’d board

Stretch’d forth their hands, and, hunger now and thirst

Both satisfied, Penelope began.

Telemachus! I will ascend again,

And will repose me on my woeful bed;          120

For such it hath been, and with tears of mine

Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went

With Atreus’ sons to Troy. For not a word

Thou would’st vouchsafe me till our haughty guests

Had occupied the house again, of all

That thou hast heard (if aught indeed thou hast)

Of thy long-absent father’s wish’d return.

Her answer’d then Telemachus discrete.

Mother, at thy request I will with truth

Relate the whole. At Pylus shore arrived          130

We Nestor found, Chief of the Pylian race.

Receiving me in his august abode,

He entertain’d me with such welcome kind

As a glad father shews to his own son

Long-lost and newly found; so Nestor me,

And his illustrious offspring, entertain’d,

But yet assured me that he nought had heard

From mortal lips of my magnanimous sire,

Whether alive or dead; with his own steeds

He sent me, and with splendid chariot thence          140

To spear-famed Menelaus, Atreus’ son.

There saw I Helen, by the Gods’ decree

Auth’ress of trouble both to Greece and Troy.

The Hero Menelaus then enquired

What cause had urged me to the pleasant vale

Of Lacedæmon; plainly I rehearsed

The occasion, and the Hero thus replied.

Ye Gods! they are ambitious of the bed

Of a brave man, however base themselves.

But, as it chances when the hart hath laid          150

Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest

In some resistless lion’s den, she roams,

Meantime, the hills, and in the grassy vales

Feeds heedless, but the lion to his lair

Returning soon, both her and hers destroys,

So shall thy father, brave Ulysses, them.

Jove! Pallas! and Apollo! oh that such

As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove

With Philomelides, whom wrestling, flat

He threw, when all Achaia’s sons rejoiced,          160

Ulysses, now, might mingle with his foes!

Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs,

But thy enquiries neither indirect

Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,

But all that from the Ancient of the Deep[73]

I have received will utter, hiding nought.

The God declared that he had seen thy sire

In a lone island, sorrowing, and detain’d

An inmate in the grotto of the nymph

Calypso, wanting also means by which          170

To reach the country of his birth again,

For neither gallant barks nor friends had he

To speed his passage o’er the boundless waves.

So Menelaus spake, the spear-renown’d.

My errand thus accomplish’d, I return’d—

And by the Gods with gales propitious blest,

Was wafted swiftly to my native shore.

He spake, and tumult in his mother’s heart

So speaking, raised. Consolatory, next,

The godlike Theoclymenus began.          180

Consort revered of Laertiades!

Little the Spartan knew, but list to me,

For I will plainly prophesy and sure.

Be Jove of all in heav’n my witness first,

Then this thy hospitable board, and, last,

The household Gods of the illustrious Chief

Ulysses, at whose hearth I have arrived,[74]

That, even now, within his native isle

Ulysses somewhere sits, or creeps obscure,

Witness of these enormities, and seeds          190

Sowing of dire destruction for his foes;

So sure an augury, while on the deck

Reclining of the gallant bark, I saw,

And with loud voice proclaim’d it to thy son.

Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine

Fail not! then shalt thou soon such bounty share

And friendship at my hands, that at first sight

Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.

Thus they conferr’d. Meantime the suitors hurl’d          200

The quoit and lance on the smooth area spread

Before Ulysses’ gate, the custom’d scene

Of their contentions, sports, and clamours rude.

But when the hour of supper now approach’d,

And from the pastures on all sides the sheep

Came with their wonted drivers, Medon then

(For he of all the heralds pleas’d them most,

And waited at the board) them thus address’d.

Enough of play, young princes! ent’ring now

The house, prepare we sedulous our feast,          210

Since in well-timed refreshment harm is none.

He spake, whose admonition pleas’d. At once

All, rising, sought the palace; there arrived,

Each cast his mantle off, which on his throne

Or couch he spread, then, brisk, to slaughter fell

Of many a victim; sheep and goats and brawns

They slew, all fatted, and a pastur’d ox,

Hast’ning the banquet; nor with less dispatch

Ulysses and Eumæus now prepared

To seek the town, when thus the swain began.          220

My guest! since thy fixt purpose is to seek

This day the city as my master bade,

Though I, in truth, much rather wish thee here

A keeper of our herds, yet, through respect

And rev’rence of his orders, whose reproof

I dread, for masters seldom gently chide,

I would be gone. Arise, let us depart,

For day already is far-spent, and soon

The air of even-tide will chill thee more.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.          230

It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st

To one intelligent. Let us depart,

And lead, thyself, the way; but give me, first,

(If thou have one already hewn) a staff

To lean on, for ye have described the road

Rugged, and ofttimes dang’rous to the foot.

So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back

He cast, suspended by a leathern twist,

Eumæus gratified him with a staff,

And forth they went, leaving the cottage kept          240

By dogs and swains. He city-ward his King

Led on, in form a squalid beggar old,

Halting, and in unseemly garb attired.

But when, slow-travelling the craggy way,

They now approach’d the town, and had attain’d

The marble fountain deep, which with its streams

Pellucid all the citizens supplied,

(Ithacus had that fountain framed of old

With Neritus and Polyctor, over which

A grove of water-nourish’d alders hung          250

Circular on all sides, while cold the rill

Ran from the rock, on whose tall summit stood

The altar of the nymphs, by all who pass’d

With sacrifice frequented, still, and pray’r)

Melantheus, son of Dolius, at that fount

Met them; the chosen goats of ev’ry flock,

With two assistants, from the field he drove,

The suitors’ supper. He, seeing them both,

In surly accent boorish, such as fired

Ulysses with resentment, thus began.          260

Ay—this is well—The villain leads the vile—

Thus evermore the Gods join like to like.

Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would’st conduct

This morsel-hunting mendicant obscene,

Defiler base of banquets? many a post

Shall he rub smooth that props him while he begs

Lean alms, sole object of his low pursuit,

Who ne’er to sword or tripod yet aspired.

Would’st thou afford him to me for a guard

Or sweeper of my stalls, or to supply          270

My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewes

Supported stand, though nourish’d but with whey.

But no such useful arts hath he acquired,

Nor likes he work, but rather much to extort

From others food for his unsated maw.

But mark my prophecy, for it is true,

At famed Ulysses’ house should he arrive,

His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl’d

Against them by the offended princes there.

He spake, and drawing nigh, with his rais’d foot,          280

Insolent as he was and brutish, smote

Ulysses’ haunch, yet shook not from his path

The firm-set Chief, who, doubtful, mused awhile

Whether to rush on him, and with his staff

To slay him, or uplifting him on high,

Downward to dash him headlong; but his wrath

Restraining, calm he suffer’d the affront.

Him then Eumæus with indignant look

Rebuking, rais’d his hands, and fervent pray’d.

Nymphs of the fountains, progeny of Jove!          290

If e’er Ulysses on your altar burn’d

The thighs of fatted lambs or kidlings, grant

This my request. O let the Hero soon,

Conducted by some Deity, return!

So shall he quell that arrogance which safe

Thou now indulgest, roaming day by day

The city, while bad shepherds mar the flocks.

To whom the goat-herd answer thus return’d

Melantheus. Marvellous! how rare a speech

The subtle cur hath framed! whom I will send          300

Far hence at a convenient time on board

My bark, and sell him at no little gain.

I would, that he who bears the silver bow

As sure might pierce Telemachus this day

In his own house, or that the suitors might,

As that same wand’rer shall return no more!

He said, and them left pacing slow along,

But soon, himself, at his Lord’s house arrived;

There ent’ring bold, he with the suitors sat

Opposite to Eurymachus, for him          310

He valued most. The sewers his portion placed

Of meat before him, and the maiden, chief

Directress of the household gave him bread.

And now, Ulysses, with the swain his friend

Approach’d, when, hearing the harmonious lyre,

Both stood, for Phemius had begun his song.

He grasp’d the swine-herd’s hand, and thus he said.

This house, Eumæus! of Ulysses seems

Passing magnificent, and to be known

With ease for his among a thousand more.          320

One pile supports another, and a wall

Crested with battlements surrounds the court;

Firm, too, the folding doors all force of man

Defy; but num’rous guests, as I perceive,

Now feast within; witness the sav’ry steam

Fast-fuming upward, and the sounding harp,

Divine associate of the festive board.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

Thou hast well-guess’d; no wonder, thou art quick

On ev’ry theme; but let us well forecast          330

This business. Wilt thou, ent’ring first, thyself,

The splendid mansion, with the suitors mix,

Me leaving here? or shall I lead the way

While thou remain’st behind? yet linger not,

Lest, seeing thee without, some servant strike

Or drive thee hence. Consider which were best.

Him answer’d, then, the patient Hero bold.

It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st

To one intelligent. Lead thou the way

Me leaving here, for neither stripes nor blows          340

To me are strange. Much exercised with pain

In fight and on the Deep, I have long since

Learn’d patience. Follow, next, what follow may!

But, to suppress the appetite, I deem

Impossible; the stomach is a source

Of ills to man, an avaricious gulph

Destructive, which to satiate, ships are rigg’d,

Seas travers’d, and fierce battles waged remote.

Thus they discoursing stood; Argus the while,

Ulysses’ dog, uplifted where he lay          350

His head and ears erect. Ulysses him

Had bred long since, himself, but rarely used,

Departing, first, to Ilium. Him the youths

In other days led frequent to the chace

Of wild goat, hart and hare; but now he lodg’d

A poor old cast-off, of his Lord forlorn,

Where mules and oxen had before the gate

Much ordure left, with which Ulysses’ hinds

Should, in due time, manure his spacious fields.

There lay, with dog-devouring vermin foul          360

All over, Argus; soon as he perceived

Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears

Clapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gave

Of gratulation, impotent to rise

And to approach his master as of old.

Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear

Unmark’d, and of Eumæus quick enquired.

I can but wonder seeing such a dog

Thus lodg’d, Eumæus! beautiful in form

He is, past doubt, but whether he hath been          370

As fleet as fair I know not; rather such

Perchance as masters sometimes keep to grace

Their tables, nourish’d more for shew than use.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

He is the dog of one dead far remote.

But had he now such feat-performing strength

As when Ulysses left him, going hence

To Ilium, in one moment thou shouldst mark,

Astonish’d, his agility and force.

He never in the sylvan deep recess          380

The wild beast saw that ’scaped him, and he track’d

Their steps infallible; but he hath now

No comfort, for (the master dead afar)

The heedless servants care not for his dog.

Domestics, missing once their Lord’s controul,

Grow wilful, and refuse their proper tasks;

For whom Jove dooms to servitude, he takes

At once the half of that man’s worth away.

He said, and, ent’ring at the portal, join’d

The suitors. Then his destiny released          390

Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see

Ulysses in the twentieth year restored.

Godlike Telemachus, long ere the rest,

Marking the swine-herd’s entrance, with a nod

Summon’d him to approach. Eumæus cast

His eye around, and seeing vacant there

The seat which the dispenser of the feast

Was wont to occupy while he supplied

The num’rous guests, planted it right before

Telemachus, and at his table sat,          400

On which the herald placed for him his share

Of meat, and from the baskets gave him bread.

Soon after him, Ulysses enter’d slow

The palace, like a squalid beggar old,

Staff-propp’d, and in loose tatters foul attired.

Within the portal on the ashen sill

He sat, and, seeming languid, lean’d against

A cypress pillar by the builder’s art

Polish’d long since, and planted at the door.

Then took Telemachus a loaf entire          410

Forth from the elegant basket, and of flesh

A portion large as his two hands contained,

And, beck’ning close the swine-herd, charged him thus.

These to the stranger; whom advise to ask

Some dole from ev’ry suitor; bashful fear

Ill suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.

He spake; Eumæus went, and where he sat

Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.

Telemachus, oh stranger, sends thee these,

And counsels thee to importune for more          420

The suitors, one by one; for bashful fear

Ill suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Jove, King of all, grant ev’ry good on earth

To kind Telemachus, and the complete

Accomplishment of all that he desires!

He said, and with both hands outspread, the mess

Receiving as he sat, on his worn bag

Disposed it at his feet. Long as the bard

Chaunted, he ate, and when he ceas’d to eat,          430

Then also ceas’d the bard divine to sing.

And now ensued loud clamour in the hall

And tumult, when Minerva, drawing nigh

To Laertiades, impell’d the Chief

Crusts to collect, or any pittance small

At ev’ry suitor’s hand, for trial’s sake

Of just and unjust; yet deliv’rance none

From evil she design’d for any there.

From left to right[75] his progress he began

Petitioning, with outstretch’d hands, the throng,          440

As one familiar with the beggar’s art.

They, pitying, gave to him, but view’d him still

With wonder, and enquiries mutual made

Who, and whence was he? Then the goat-herd rose

Melanthius, and th’ assembly thus address’d.

Hear me, ye suitors of th’ illustrious Queen!

This guest, of whom ye ask, I have beheld

Elsewhere; the swine-herd brought him; but himself

I know not, neither who nor whence he is.

So he; then thus Antinoüs stern rebuked          450

The swine-herd. Ah, notorious as thou art,

Why hast thou shewn this vagabond the way

Into the city? are we not enough

Infested with these troublers of our feasts?

Deem’st it a trifle that such numbers eat

At thy Lord’s cost, and hast thou, therefore, led

This fellow hither, found we know not where?

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

Antinoüs! though of high degree, thou speak’st

Not wisely. What man to another’s house          460

Repairs to invite him to a feast, unless

He be of those who by profession serve

The public, prophet, healer of disease,

Ingenious artist, or some bard divine

Whose music may exhilarate the guests?

These, and such only, are in ev’ry land

Call’d to the banquet; none invites the poor,

Who much consume, and no requital yield.

But thou of all the suitors roughly treat’st

Ulysses’ servants most, and chiefly me;          470

Yet thee I heed not, while the virtuous Queen

Dwells in this palace, and her godlike son.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

Peace! answer not verbose a man like him.

Antinoüs hath a tongue accustom’d much

To tauntings, and promotes them in the rest.

Then, turning to Antinoüs, quick he said—

Antinoüs! as a father for his son

Takes thought, so thou for me, who bidd’st me chase

The stranger harshly hence; but God forbid![76]          480

Impart to him. I grudge not, but myself

Exhort thee to it; neither, in this cause,

Fear thou the Queen, or in the least regard

Whatever menial throughout all the house

Of famed Ulysses. Ah! within thy breast

Dwells no such thought; thou lov’st not to impart

To others, but to gratify thyself.

To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d.

High-soaring and intemp’rate in thy speech

How hast thou said, Telemachus? Would all          490

As much bestow on him, he should not seek

Admittance here again three months to come.

So saying, he seized the stool which, banqueting,

He press’d with his nice feet, and from beneath

The table forth advanced it into view.

The rest all gave to him, with bread and flesh

Filling his wallet, and Ulysses, now,

Returning to his threshold, there to taste

The bounty of the Greeks, paused in his way

Beside Antinoüs, whom he thus address’d.          500

Kind sir! vouchsafe to me! for thou appear’st

Not least, but greatest of the Achaians here,

And hast a kingly look. It might become

Thee therefore above others to bestow,

So should I praise thee wheresoe’er I roam.

I also lived the happy owner once

Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n

To num’rous wand’rers (whencesoe’er they came)

All that they needed; I was also served

By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes          510

The envied owner opulent and blest.

But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced

My all to nothing, prompting me, in league

With rovers of the Deep, to sail afar

To Ægypt, for my sure destruction there.

Within th’ Ægyptian stream my barks well-oar’d

I station’d, and, enjoining strict my friends

To watch them close-attendant at their side,

Commanded spies into the hill-tops; but they,

Under the impulse of a spirit rash          520

And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fields

Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led

Their wives and little-ones, and slew the men.

Ere long, the loud alarm their city reach’d.

Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,

With horse and foot and with the gleam of arms

Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread

Struck all my people; none found courage more

To stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.

There, num’rous by the glitt’ring spear we fell          530

Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thence

Alive to servitude; but me they gave

To Dmetor, King in Cyprus, Jasus’ son;

He entertained me liberally, and thence

This land I reach’d, but poor and woe-begone.

Then answer thus Antinoüs harsh return’d.

What dæmon introduced this nuisance here,

This troubler of our feast? stand yonder, keep

Due distance from my table, or expect

To see an Ægypt and a Cyprus worse          540

Than those, bold mendicant and void of shame!

Thou hauntest each, and, inconsid’rate, each

Gives to thee, because gifts at other’s cost

Are cheap, and, plentifully serv’d themselves,

They squander, heedless, viands not their own.

To whom Ulysses while he slow retired.

Gods! how illib’ral with that specious form!

Thou wouldst not grant the poor a grain of salt

From thy own board, who at another’s fed

So nobly, canst thou not spare a crust to me.          550

He spake; then raged Antinoüs still the more,

And in wing’d accents, louring, thus replied.

Take such dismission now as thou deserv’st,

Opprobrious! hast thou dared to scoff at me?

So saying, he seized his stool, and on the joint

Of his right shoulder smote him; firm as rock

He stood, by no such force to be displaced,

But silent shook his brows, and dreadful deeds

Of vengeance ruminating, sought again

His seat the threshold, where his bag full-charged          560

He grounded, and the suitors thus address’d.

Hear now, ye suitors of the matchless Queen,

My bosom’s dictates. Trivial is the harm,

Scarce felt, if, fighting for his own, his sheep

Perchance, or beeves, a man receive a blow.

But me Antinoüs struck for that I ask’d

Food from him merely to appease the pangs

Of hunger, source of num’rous ills to man.

If then the poor man have a God t’ avenge

His wrongs, I pray to him that death may seize          570

Antinoüs, ere his nuptial hour arrive!

To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d,

Son of Eupithes. Either seated there

Or going hence, eat, stranger, and be still;

Lest for thy insolence, by hand or foot

We drag thee forth, and thou be flay’d alive.

He ceased, whom all indignant heard, and thus

Ev’n his own proud companions censured him.

Antinoüs! thou didst not well to smite

The wretched vagabond. O thou art doom’d          580

For ever, if there be a God in heav’n;[77]

For, in similitude of strangers oft,

The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,

Repair to populous cities, where they mark

The outrageous and the righteous deeds of men.

So they, for whose reproof he little cared.

But in his heart Telemachus that blow

Resented, anguish-torn, yet not a tear

He shed, but silent shook his brows, and mused

Terrible things. Penelope, meantime,          590

Told of the wand’rer so abused beneath

Her roof, among her maidens thus exclaim’d.

So may Apollo, glorious archer, smite

Thee also. Then Eurynome replied,

Oh might our pray’rs prevail, none of them all

Should see bright-charioted Aurora more.

Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.

Nurse! they are odious all, for that alike

All teem with mischief; but Antinoüs’ looks

Remind me ever of the gloom of death.          600

A stranger hath arrived who, begging, roams

The house, (for so his penury enjoins)

The rest have giv’n him, and have fill’d his bag

With viands, but Antinoüs hath bruised

His shoulder with a foot-stool hurl’d at him.

While thus the Queen conversing with her train

In her own chamber sat, Ulysses made

Plenteous repast. Then, calling to her side

Eumæus, thus she signified her will.

Eumæus, noble friend! bid now approach          610

Yon stranger. I would speak with him, and ask

If he has seen Ulysses, or have heard

Tidings, perchance, of the afflicted Chief,

For much a wand’rer by his garb he seems.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear,

O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart.

Three nights I housed him, and within my cot

Three days detain’d him, (for his ship he left

A fugitive, and came direct to me)          620

But half untold his hist’ry still remains.

As when his eye one fixes on a bard

From heav’n instructed in such themes as charm

The ear of mortals, ever as he sings

The people press, insatiable, to hear,

So, in my cottage, seated at my side,

That stranger with his tale enchanted me.

Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guest

Erewhile in Crete, where Minos’ race resides,

And thence he hath arrived, after great loss,          630

A suppliant to the very earth abased;

He adds, that in Thesprotia’s neighbour realm

He of Ulysses heard, both that he lives,

And that he comes laden with riches home.

To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.

Haste; call him. I would hear, myself, his tale.

Meantime, let these, or in the palace gate

Sport jocular, or here; their hearts are light,

For their possessions are secure; their wine

None drinks, or eats their viands, save their own,          640

While my abode, day after day, themselves

Haunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goats

Slay for the banquet, and my casks exhaust

Extravagant, whence endless waste ensues;

For no such friend as was Ulysses once

Have I to expel the mischief. But might he

Revisit once his native shores again,

Then, aided by his son, he should avenge,

Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn.

Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force,          650

That all the palace rang; his mother laugh’d,

And in wing’d accents thus the swain bespake.

Haste—bid him hither—hear’st thou not the sneeze

Propitious of my son? oh might it prove

A presage of inevitable death

To all these revellers! may none escape!

Now mark me well. Should the event his tale

Confirm, at my own hands he shall receive

Mantle and tunic both for his reward.

She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat          660

Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.

Penelope, my venerable friend!

Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus.

Oppress’d by num’rous troubles, she desires

To ask thee tidings of her absent Lord.

And should the event verify thy report,

Thy meed shall be (a boon which much thou need’st)

Tunic and mantle; but she gives no more;

Thy sustenance thou must, as now, obtain,[78]

Begging it at their hands who chuse to give.          670

Then thus Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.

Eumæus! readily I can relate

Truth, and truth only, to the prudent Queen

Icarius’ daughter; for of him I know

Much, and have suff’red sorrows like his own.

But dread I feel of this imperious throng

Perverse, whose riot and outrageous acts

Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.

And, even now, when for no fault of mine

Yon suitor struck me as I pass’d, and fill’d          680

My flesh with pain, neither Telemachus

Nor any interposed to stay his arm.

Now, therefore, let Penelope, although

Impatient, till the sun descend postpone

Her questions; then she may enquire secure

When comes her husband, and may nearer place

My seat to the hearth-side, for thinly clad

Thou know’st I am, whose aid I first implored.

He ceas’d; at whose reply Eumæus sought

Again the Queen, but ere he yet had pass’d          690

The threshold, thus she greeted his return.

Com’st thou alone, Eumæus? why delays

The invited wand’rer? dreads he other harm?

Or sees he aught that with a bashful awe

Fills him? the bashful poor are poor indeed.

To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.

He hath well spoken; none who would decline

The rudeness of this contumelious throng

Could answer otherwise; thee he entreats

To wait till sun-set, and that course, O Queen,          700

Thou shalt thyself far more commodious find,

To hold thy conf’rence with the guest, alone.

Then answer thus Penelope return’d.

The stranger, I perceive, is not unwise,

Whoe’er he be, for on the earth are none

Proud, insolent, and profligate as these.

So spake the Queen. Then (all his message told)

The good Eumæus to the suitors went

Again, and with his head inclined toward

Telemachus, lest others should his words          710

Witness, in accents wing’d him thus address’d.

Friend and kind master! I return to keep

My herds, and to attend my rural charge,

Whence we are both sustain’d. Keep thou, meantime,

All here with vigilance, but chiefly watch

For thy own good, and save thyself from harm;

For num’rous here brood mischief, whom the Gods

Exterminate, ere yet their plots prevail!

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

So be it, father! and (thy evening-mess          720

Eaten) depart; to-morrow come again,

Bringing fair victims hither; I will keep,

I and the Gods, meantime, all here secure.

He ended; then resumed once more the swain

His polish’d seat, and, both with wine and food

Now satiate, to his charge return’d, the court

Leaving and all the palace throng’d with guests;

They (for it now was evening) all alike

Turn’d jovial to the song and to the dance.

[73] Proteus.

[74] The hearth was the altar on which the lares or household-gods were worshipped.

[75] That he might begin auspiciously. Wine was served in the same direction. F.

[76] Here again Θεὸς occurs in the abstract.

[77]

Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσι

Eustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.

[78] This seems added by Eumæus to cut off from Ulysses the hope that might otherwise tempt him to use fiction.

end chapter

BOOK XVIII

ARGUMENT

The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes.

Now came a public mendicant, a man

Accustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streets

Of Ithaca; one never sated yet

With food or drink; yet muscle had he none,

Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.

Arnæus was the name which at his birth

His mother gave him, but the youthful band

Of suitors, whom as messenger he served,

All named him Irus. He, arriving, sought

To drive Ulysses forth from his own home,          10

And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.

Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the foot

I drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how all

Wink on me, and by signs give me command

To drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shame

That checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fists

Thou force me to adjust our diff’rence.

To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied.

Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine

Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon,          20

However plentiful, which thou receiv’st.

The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well

To envy others; thou appear’st like me

A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n.

But urge me not to trial of our fists,

Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood

Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.

So, my attendance should to-morrow prove

More tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge,

Ulysses’ mansion, never to return.          30

Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain.

Gods! with what volubility of speech

The table-hunter prates, like an old hag

Collied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!

For I intend thee mischief, and to dash

With both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums,

As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn.

Come—gird thee, that all here may view the strife—

But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?

Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate          40

They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose dispute

The high-born youth Antinoüs mark’d; he laugh’d

Delighted, and the suitors thus address’d.

Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’d

Pleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselves

Afford us. Irus and the stranger brawl

As they would box. Haste—let us urge them on.

He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;

The ill-clad disputants they round about

Encompass’d, and Antinoüs thus began.          50

Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.

Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,

Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apart

For supper; he who conquers, and in force

Superior proves, shall freely take the paunch

Which he prefers, and shall with us thenceforth

Feast always; neither will we here admit

Poor man beside to beg at our repasts.

He spake, whom all approved; next, artful Chief

Ulysses thus, dissembling, them address’d.          60

Princes! unequal is the strife between

A young man and an old with mis’ry worn;

But hunger, always counsellor of ill,

Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,

I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye all

A solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sake

Shall, interposing, smite me with his fist

Clandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.

He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present swore

A solemn oath; then thus, amid them all          70

Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.

Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mind

Prompt thee to banish this man hence, no force

Fear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall find

Yet other foes to cope with; I am here

In the host’s office, and the royal Chiefs

Eurymachus and Antinoüs, alike

Discrete, accord unanimous with me.

He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his rags

Ulysses braced for decency his loins          80

Around, but gave to view his brawny thighs

Proportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad,

His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,

Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and more

Minerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyes

Astonish’d gazed on him, and, looking full

On his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d.

Irus shall be in Irus found no more.

He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewes

And what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid!          90

So he—meantime in Irus’ heart arose

Horrible tumult; yet, his loins by force

Girding, the servants dragg’d him to the fight

Pale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came;

Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.

Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever born

Thou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismay

Shake thee at thought of combat with a man

Ancient as he, and worn with many woes?

But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he          100

O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove,

To Echetus thou go’st; my sable bark

Shall waft thee to Epirus, where he reigns

Enemy of mankind; of nose and ears

He shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,

And tearing by the roots the parts away[79]

That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.

He said; His limbs new terrors at that sound

Shook under him; into the middle space

They led him, and each raised his hands on high.          110

Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,

Whether to strike him lifeless to the earth

At once, or fell him with a managed blow.

To smite with managed force at length he chose

As wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength,

He should be known. With elevated fists

Both stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,

But he his adversary on the neck

Pash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones,

And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth.          120

With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teeth

Chatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground.

The wooers, at that sight, lifting their hands

In glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away.

Then, through the vestibule, and right across

The court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the foot

Into the portico, where propping him

Against the wall, and giving him his staff,

In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell.

There seated now, dogs drive and swine away,          130

Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul

O’er other guests and mendicants, lest harm

Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.

So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back

He threw suspended by its leathern twist,

And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again,

They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-door

Re-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake.

Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skies

Vouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be,          140

Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’d

From that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone.

Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’d

To Echetus the King, pest of mankind.

So they, to whose propitious words the Chief

Listen’d delighted. Then Antinoüs placed

The paunch before him, and Amphinomus

Two loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’d

A goblet also, drank to him, and said,

My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot          150

Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’st

With much discretion, who art also son

Of such a sire, whose fair report I know,

Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.

Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a man

Judicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.

Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,

No creature weak as man; for while the Gods          160

Grant him prosperity and health, no fear

Hath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;

But when the Gods with evils unforeseen

Smite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;

For such as the complexion of his lot

By the appointment of the Sire of all,

Such is the colour of the mind of man.

I, too, have been familiar in my day

With wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d,

And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought          170

Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.

Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each

Use modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.

So do not these. These ever bent I see

On deeds injurious, the possessions large

Consuming, and dishonouring the wife

Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain

Long absent from his home, but is, perchance,

Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods

Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return          180

To his own country! for they will not part,

(He and the suitors) without blood, I think,

If once he enter at these gates again!

He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’d

The generous juice, then in the prince’s hand

Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head

Inclining low, pass’d from him; for his heart

Forboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he,

But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life

To the heroic arm and spear resign’d          190

Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,

The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.

Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,

Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appear

Before the suitors; so to expose the more

Their drift iniquitous, and that herself

More bright than ever in her husband’s eyes

Might shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,[80]

And, bursting into laughter, thus began.

I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt          200

That wish till now) though I detest them all,

To appear before the suitors, in whose ears

I will admonish, for his good, my son,

Not to associate with that lawless crew

Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.

Then answer thus Eurynome return’d.

My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.

Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give

To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt

Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks          210

Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues

From grief like thine, that never knows a change.

And he is now bearded, and hath attained

That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’r

To implore the Gods that he might live to see.

Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.

Persuade not me, though studious of my good,

To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint

My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods

Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d,          220

When he, embarking, left me. Go, command

Hippodamia and Autonöe

That they attend me to the hall, and wait

Beside me there; for decency forbids

That I should enter to the men, alone.

She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dame

Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.

But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,

Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep

Around Icarius’ daughter; on her couch          230

Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,

And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.

Then, that the suitors might admire her more,

The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,

With beauty of the skies; her lovely face

She with ambrosia purified, with such

As Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employs

Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance

She joins the Graces; to a statelier height

Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew,          240

And fairer than the elephantine bone

Fresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’d

Divine, the awful Deity retired.

And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived

Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,

She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.

Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,

Hath here involved. O would that by a death

As gentle chaste Diana would herself

This moment set me free, that I might waste          250

My life no longer in heart-felt regret

Of a lamented husband’s various worth

And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!

She said, and through her chambers’ stately door

Issuing, descended; neither went she sole,

But with those two fair menials of her train.

Arriving, most majestic of her sex,

In presence of the num’rous guests, beneath

The portal of the stately dome she stood

Between her maidens, with her lucid veil          260

Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry knee

Trembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heat

Dissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,

While to Telemachus her son she spake.

Telemachus! thou art no longer wise

As once thou wast, and even when a child.

For thriven as thou art, and at full size

Arrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,

That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growth

And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born,          270

Yet is thy intellect still immature.

For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guest

To be abused in thy own palace? how?

Know’st not that if the stranger seated here

Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine?

Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete.

I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’st

Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind

Able to mark and to discern between

Evil and good, child as I lately was,          280

Although I find not promptitude of thought

Sufficient always, overaw’d and check’d

By such a multitude, all bent alike

On mischief, of whom none takes part with me.

But Irus and the stranger have not fought,

Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’d

Victorious; yes—heav’n knows how much I wish

That, (in the palace some, some in the court)

The suitors all sat vanquish’d, with their heads

Depending low, and with enfeebled limbs,          290

Even as that same Irus, while I speak,

With chin on bosom propp’d at the hall-gate

Sits drunkard-like, incapable to stand

Erect, or to regain his proper home.

So they; and now addressing to the Queen

His speech, Eurymachus thus interposed.

O daughter of Icarius! could all eyes

Throughout Iäsian Argos[81] view thy charms,

Discrete Penelope! more suitors still

Assembling in thy courts would banquet here          300

From morn to eve; for thou surpassest far

In beauty, stature, worth, all womankind.

To whom replied Penelope discrete.

The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to nought

My virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks,

Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.

Could he, returning, my domestic charge

Himself intend, far better would my fame

Be so secured, and wider far diffused.

But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods          310

Of woe have sent me. When he left his home,

Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said.

My love! for I imagine not that all

The warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return,

Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight,

Skill’d in the spear, mighty to draw the bow,

And nimble vaulters to the backs of steeds

High-mettled, which to speediest issue bring

The dreadful struggle of all-wasting war—

I know not, therefore, whether heav’n intend          320

My safe return, or I must perish there.

But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now,

While I am absent, or more dearly still

My parents, and what time our son thou seest

Mature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt,

And hence to a new home.—Such were his words,

All which shall full accomplishment ere long

Receive. The day is near, when hapless I,

Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove,

Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors.          330

But this thought now afflicts me, and my mind

Continual haunts. Such was not heretofore

The suitors’ custom’d practice; all who chose

To engage in competition for a wife

Well-qualitied and well-endow’d, produced

From their own herds and fatted flocks a feast

For the bride’s friends, and splendid presents made,

But never ate as ye, at others’ cost.

She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inured

Rejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw          340

From each some gift, although on other views,

And more important far, himself intent.

Then thus Antinoüs, Eupithes’ son.

Icarius’ daughter wise! only accept

Such gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demand

That grace, nor can be decently refused;

But to our rural labours, or elsewhere

Depart not we, till first thy choice be made

Of the Achaian, chief in thy esteem.

Antinoüs spake, whose answer all approved.          350

Then each dispatch’d his herald who should bring

His master’s gift. Antinoüs’ herald, first

A mantle of surpassing beauty brought,

Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn’d

Than twelve, all golden, and to ev’ry clasp

Was fitted opposite its eye exact.

Next, to Eurymachus his herald bore

A necklace of wrought gold, with amber rich

Bestudded, ev’ry bead bright as a sun.

Two servants for Eurydamas produced          360

Ear-pendants fashion’d with laborious art,

Broad, triple-gemm’d, of brilliant light profuse.

The herald of Polyctor’s son, the prince

Pisander, brought a collar to his Lord,

A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave,

And each a gift dissimilar from all.

Then, loveliest of her sex, turning away,

She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fair

Attended, charged with those illustrious gifts.

Then turn’d, they all to dance and pleasant song          370

Joyous, expecting the approach of ev’n.

Ere long the dusky evening came, and them

Found sporting still. Then, placing in the hall

Three hearths that should illumine wide the house,

They compass’d them around with fuel-wood

Long-season’d and new-split, mingling the sticks

With torches. The attendant women watch’d

And fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself,

Their unknown Sov’reign thus his speech address’d.

Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief          380

Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire,

And to your virtuous Queen, that following there

Your sev’ral tasks, spinning and combing wool,

Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for these

Will furnish light, and should they chuse to stay

Till golden morn appear, they shall not tire

My patience aught, for I can much endure.

He said; they, titt’ring, on each other gazed.

But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks,

Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire,          390

But by Penelope she had been reared

With care maternal, and in infant years

Supplied with many a toy; yet even she

Felt not her mistress’ sorrows in her heart,

But, of Eurymachus enamour’d, oft

His lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speech

Reproachful, to Ulysses thus replied.

Why—what a brainsick vagabond art thou!

Who neither wilt to the smith’s forge retire

For sleep, nor to the public portico,          400

But here remaining, with audacious prate

Disturb’st this num’rous company, restrain’d

By no respect or fear; either thou art

With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,

Art always fool, and therefore babblest now.

Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiled

The beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a man

Stronger than Irus suddenly arise,

Who on thy temples pelting thee with blows

Far heavier than his, shall drive thee hence          410

With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood.

To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.

Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform’d

This moment of thy eloquent harangue,

That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb.

So saying, he scared the women; back they flew

Into the house, but each with falt’ring knees

Through dread, for they believ’d his threats sincere.

He, then illumin’d by the triple blaze,

Watch’d close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth,          420

But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughts

Revolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain.

Nor Pallas (that they might exasp’rate more

Laertes’ son) permitted to abstain

From heart-corroding bitterness of speech

Those suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus,

Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer’d

Ulysses, set the others in a roar.

Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen!

I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks,          430

Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach’d

Ulysses’ mansion, for to me the light

Of yonder torches altogether seems

His own, an emanation from his head,

Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures.

He ended; and the city-waster Chief

Himself accosted next. Art thou disposed

To serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire,

A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not want

Sufficient wages; thou may’st there collect          440

Stones for my fences, and may’st plant my oaks,

For which I would supply thee all the year

With food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet.

But thou hast learn’d less creditable arts,

Nor hast a will to work, preferring much

By beggary from others to extort

Wherewith to feed thy never-sated maw.

Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.

Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match’d

In work against each other, thou and I,          450

Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long,

I with my well-bent sickle in my hand,

Thou arm’d with one as keen, for trial sake

Of our ability to toil unfed

Till night, grass still sufficing for the proof.—

Or if, again, it were our task to drive

Yoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair’d,

Big-limb’d, both batten’d to the full with grass,

Their age and aptitude for work the same

Not soon to be fatigued, and were the field          460

In size four acres, with a glebe through which

The share might smoothly slide, then should’st thou see

How strait my furrow should be cut and true.—

Or should Saturnian Jove this day excite

Here, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm’d

With two bright spears and with a shield, and bore

A brazen casque well-fitted to my brows,

Me, then, thou should’st perceive mingling in fight

Amid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crime

Of idle beggary should’st upbraid me more.          470

But thou art much a railer, one whose heart

Pity moves not, and seem’st a mighty man

And valiant to thyself, only because

Thou herd’st with few, and those of little worth.

But should Ulysses come, at his own isle

Again arrived, wide as these portals are,

To thee, at once, too narrow they should seem

To shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad.

He ceased—then tenfold indignation fired

Eurymachus; he furrow’d deep his brow          480

With frowns, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon,

Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar’st

Disturb this num’rous company, restrain’d

By no respect or fear. Either thou art

With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,

Art always fool, and therefore babblest now;

Or thou art frantic haply with delight

That thou hast foil’d yon vagabond obscure.

So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees          490

Ulysses flew of the Dulichian Prince

Amphinomus, and sat, fearing incensed

Eurymachus; he on his better hand

Smote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floor

Loud rang the fallen beaker, and himself

Lay on his back clamouring in the dust.

Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensued

Among the suitors, of whom thus, a youth,

With eyes directed to the next, exclaim’d.

Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere          500

Perish’d, or ever he had here arrived,

Then no such uproar had he caused as this!

This doth the beggar; he it is for whom

We wrangle thus, and may despair of peace

Or pleasure more; now look for strife alone.

Then in the midst Telemachus upstood

Majestic, and the suitors thus bespake.

Sirs! ye are mad, and can no longer eat

Or drink in peace; some dæmon troubles you.

But since ye all have feasted, to your homes          510

Go now, and, at your pleasure, to your beds;

Soonest were best, but I thrust no man hence.

He ceased; they gnawing stood their lips, aghast

With wonder that Telemachus in his speech

Such boldness used. Then rose Amphinomus,

Brave son of Nisus offspring of the King

Aretus, and the assembly thus address’d.

My friends! let none with contradiction thwart

And rude reply words rational and just;

Assault no more the stranger, nor of all          520

The servants of renown’d Ulysses here

Harm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fill

To all, that due libation made, to rest

We may repair at home, leaving the Prince

To accommodate beneath his father’s roof

The stranger, for he is the Prince’s guest.

He ended, whose advice none disapproved.

The Hero Mulius then, Dulichian-born,

And herald of Amphinomus, the cup

Filling, dispensed it, as he stood, to all;          530

They, pouring forth to the Immortals, quaff’d

The luscious bev’rage, and when each had made

Libation, and such measure as he would

Of wine had drunk, then all to rest retired.

[79] Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.

[80] This seems the sort of laughter intended by the word Αχρειον.

[81] From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.

end chapter

BOOK XIX

ARGUMENT

Ulysses and Telemachus remove the arms from the hall to an upper-chamber. The Hero then confers with Penelope, to whom he gives a fictitious narrative of his adventures. Euryclea, while bathing Ulysses, discovers him by a scar on his knee, but he prevents her communication of that discovery to Penelope.

They went, but left the noble Chief behind

In his own house, contriving by the aid

Of Pallas, the destruction of them all,

And thus, in accents wing’d, again he said.

My son! we must remove and safe dispose

All these my well-forged implements of war;

And should the suitors, missing them, enquire

Where are they? thou shalt answer smoothly thus—

I have convey’d them from the reach of smoke,

For they appear no more the same which erst          10

Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,

So smirch’d and sullied by the breath of fire.

This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)

Some God suggested to me,—lest, inflamed

With wine, ye wound each other in your brawls,

Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view

Itself of arms incites to their abuse.

He ceased, and, in obedience to his will,

Calling the ancient Euryclea forth,

His nurse, Telemachus enjoin’d her thus.          20

Go—shut the women in; make fast the doors

Of their apartment, while I safe dispose

Elsewhere, my father’s implements of war,

Which, during his long absence, here have stood

Till smoke hath sullied them. For I have been

An infant hitherto, but, wiser grown,

Would now remove them from the breath of fire.

Then thus the gentle matron in return.

Yes truly—and I wish that now, at length,

Thou would’st assert the privilege of thy years,          30

My son, thyself assuming charge of all,

Both house and stores; but who shall bear the light?

Since they, it seems, who would, are all forbidden.

To whom Telemachus discrete replied.

This guest; for no man, from my table fed,

Come whence he may; shall be an idler here.

He ended, nor his words flew wing’d away,

But Euryclea bolted every door.

Then, starting to the task, Ulysses caught,

And his illustrious son, the weapons thence,          40

Helmet, and bossy shield, and pointed spear,

While Pallas from a golden lamp illumed

The dusky way before them. At that sight

Alarm’d, the Prince his father thus address’d.

Whence—whence is this, my father? I behold

A prodigy! the walls of the whole house,

The arches, fir-tree beams, and pillars tall

Shine in my view, as with the blaze of fire!

Some Pow’r celestial, doubtless, is within.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.          50

Soft! ask no questions. Give no vent to thought,

Such is the custom of the Pow’rs divine.

Hence, thou, to bed. I stay, that I may yet

Both in thy mother and her maidens move

More curiosity; yes—she with tears

Shall question me of all that I have seen.

He ended, and the Prince, at his command,

Guided by flaming torches, sought the couch

Where he was wont to sleep, and there he slept

On that night also, waiting the approach          60

Of sacred dawn. Thus was Ulysses left

Alone, and planning sat in solitude,

By Pallas’ aid, the slaughter of his foes.

At length, Diana-like, or like herself,

All golden Venus, (her apartment left)

Enter’d Penelope. Beside the hearth

Her women planted her accustom’d seat

With silver wreathed and ivory. That throne

Icmalius made, artist renown’d, and join’d

A footstool to its splendid frame beneath,          70

Which ever with an ample fleece they spread.

There sat discrete Penelope; then came

Her beautiful attendants from within,

Who cleared the litter’d bread, the board, and cups

From which the insolent companions drank.

They also raked the embers from the hearths

Now dim, and with fresh billets piled them high,

Both for illumination and for warmth.

Then yet again Melantho with rude speech

Opprobrious, thus, assail’d Ulysses’ ear.          80

Guest—wilt thou trouble us throughout the night

Ranging the house? and linger’st thou a spy

Watching the women? Hence—get thee abroad

Glad of such fare as thou hast found, or soon

With torches beaten we will thrust thee forth.

To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.

Petulant woman! wherefore thus incensed

Inveigh’st thou against me? is it because

I am not sleek? because my garb is mean?

Because I beg? thanks to necessity—          90

I would not else. But such as I appear,

Such all who beg and all who wander are.

I also lived the happy owner once

Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n

To num’rous wand’rers, whencesoe’er they came,

All that they needed; I was also served

By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes

The envied owner opulent and blest.

But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced

My all to nothing. Therefore well beware          100

Thou also, mistress, lest a day arrive

When all these charms by which thou shin’st among

Thy sister-menials, fade; fear, too, lest her

Thou should’st perchance irritate, whom thou serv’st,

And lest Ulysses come, of whose return

Hope yet survives; but even though the Chief

Have perish’d, as ye think, and comes no more,

Consider yet his son, how bright the gifts

Shine of Apollo in the illustrious Prince

Telemachus; no woman, unobserved          110

By him, can now commit a trespass here;

His days of heedless infancy are past.

He ended, whom Penelope discrete

O’erhearing, her attendant sharp rebuked.

Shameless, audacious woman! known to me

Is thy great wickedness, which with thy life

Thou shalt atone; for thou wast well aware,

(Hearing it from myself) that I design’d

To ask this stranger of my absent Lord,

For whose dear sake I never cease to mourn.          120

Then to her household’s governess she said.

Bring now a seat, and spread it with a fleece,

Eurynome! that, undisturb’d, the guest

May hear and answer all that I shall ask.

She ended. Then the matron brought in haste

A polish’d seat, and spread it with a fleece,

On which the toil-accustom’d Hero sat,

And thus the chaste Penelope began.

Stranger! my first enquiry shall be this—

Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?          130

Then answer thus Ulysses, wise, return’d.

O Queen! uncensurable by the lips

Of mortal man! thy glory climbs the skies

Unrivall’d, like the praise of some great King

Who o’er a num’rous people and renown’d

Presiding like a Deity, maintains

Justice and truth. The earth, under his sway,

Her produce yields abundantly; the trees

Fruit-laden bend; the lusty flocks bring forth;

The Ocean teems with finny swarms beneath          140

His just controul, and all the land is blest.

Me therefore, question of what else thou wilt

In thy own palace, but forbear to ask

From whom I sprang, and of my native land,

Lest thou, reminding me of those sad themes,

Augment my woes; for I have much endured;

Nor were it seemly, in another’s house,

To pass the hours in sorrow and in tears,

Wearisome when indulg’d with no regard

To time or place; thy train (perchance thyself)          150

Would blame me, and I should reproach incur

As one tear-deluged through excess of wine.

Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

The immortal Gods, O stranger, then destroy’d

My form, my grace, my beauty, when the Greeks

Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.

Could he, returning, my domestic charge

Himself intend, far better would my fame

Be so secured, and wider far diffused.

But I am wretched now, such storms of woe          160

The Gods have sent me; for as many Chiefs

As hold dominion in the neighbour isles

Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d

Zacynthus; others, also, rulers here

In pleasant Ithaca, me, loth to wed,

Woo ceaseless, and my household stores consume.

I therefore, neither guest nor suppliant heed,

Nor public herald more, but with regret

Of my Ulysses wear my soul away.

They, meantime, press my nuptials, which by art          170

I still procrastinate. Some God the thought

Suggested to me, to commence a robe

Of amplest measure and of subtlest woof,

Laborious task; which done, I thus address’d them.

Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief

Ulysses is no more, enforce not now

My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first

A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads be marr’d)

Which for the ancient Hero I prepare

Laertes, looking for the mournful hour          180

When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest.

Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,

Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.

Such was my speech; they, unsuspicious all,

With my request complied. Thenceforth, all day

I wove the ample web, and, by the aid

Of torches, ravell’d it again at night.

Three years by artifice I thus their suit

Eluded safe; but when the fourth arrived,

And the same season after many moons          190

And fleeting days return’d, passing my train

Who had neglected to release the dogs,

They came, surprized and reprimanded me.

Thus, through necessity, not choice, at last

I have perform’d it, in my own despight.

But no escape from marriage now remains,

Nor other subterfuge for me; meantime

My parents urge my nuptials, and my son

(Of age to note it) with disgust observes

His wealth consumed; for he is now become          200

Adult, and abler than myself to rule

The house, a Prince distinguish’d by the Gods,

Yet, stranger, after all, speak thy descent;

Say whence thou art; for not of fabulous birth

Art thou, nor from the oak, nor from the rock.

Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.

O spouse revered of Laertiades!

Resolv’st thou still to learn from whom I sprang?

Learn then; but know that thou shalt much augment

My present grief, natural to a man          210

Who hath, like me, long exiled from his home

Through various cities of the sons of men

Wander’d remote, and num’rous woes endured.

Yet, though it pain me, I will tell thee all.

There is a land amid the sable flood

Call’d Crete; fair, fruitful, circled by the sea.

Num’rous are her inhabitants, a race

Not to be summ’d, and ninety towns she boasts.

Diverse their language is; Achaians some,

And some indigenous are; Cydonians there,          220

Crest-shaking Dorians, and Pelasgians dwell.

One city in extent the rest exceeds,

Cnossus; the city in which Minos reign’d,

Who, ever at a nine years’ close, conferr’d

With Jove himself; from him my father sprang

The brave Deucalion; for Deucalion’s sons

Were two, myself and King Idomeneus.

To Ilium he, on board his gallant barks,

Follow’d the Atridæ. I, the youngest-born,

By my illustrious name, Æthon, am known,          230

But he ranks foremost both in worth and years.

There I beheld Ulysses, and within

My walls receiv’d him; for a violent wind

Had driv’n him from Malea (while he sought

The shores of Troy) to Crete. The storm his barks

Bore into the Amnisus, for the cave

Of Ilythia known, a dang’rous port,

And which with difficulty he attain’d.

He, landing, instant to the city went,

Seeking Idomeneus; his friend of old,          240

As he affirm’d, and one whom much he lov’d.

But he was far remote, ten days advanced,

Perhaps eleven, on his course to Troy.

Him, therefore, I conducted to my home,

Where hospitably, and with kindest care

I entertain’d him, (for I wanted nought)

And for himself procured and for his band,—

By public contribution, corn, and wine,

And beeves for food, that all might be sufficed.

Twelve days his noble Greecians there abode,          250

Port-lock’d by Boreas blowing with a force

Resistless even on the land, some God

So roused his fury; but the thirteenth day

The wind all fell, and they embark’d again.

With many a fiction specious, as he sat,

He thus her ear amused; she at the sound

Melting, with fluent tears her cheeks bedew’d;

And as the snow by Zephyrus diffused,

Melts on the mountain tops, when Eurus breathes,

And fills the channels of the running streams,          260

So melted she, and down her lovely cheeks

Pour’d fast the tears, him mourning as remote

Who sat beside her. Soft compassion touch’d

Ulysses of his consort’s silent woe;

His eyes as they had been of steel or horn,

Moved not, yet artful, he suppress’d his tears,

And she, at length with overflowing grief

Satiate, replied, and thus enquired again.

Now, stranger, I shall prove thee, as I judge,

If thou, indeed, hast entertain’d in Crete          270

My spouse and his brave followers, as thou say’st.

Describe his raiment and himself; his own

Appearance, and the appearance of his friends.

Then her Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.

Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time

Hath since elaps’d) to tell thee. Twenty years

Have pass’d since he forsook my native isle,

Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give

A likeness of him, such as now I may.

A double cloak, thick-piled, Mœonian dyed,          280

The noble Chief had on; two fast’nings held

The golden clasp, and it display’d in front

A well-wrought pattern with much art design’d.

An hound between his fore-feet holding fast

A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey.

All wonder’d, seeing, how in lifeless gold

Express’d, the dog with open mouth her throat

Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs

Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape.

That glorious mantle much I noticed, soft          290

To touch, as the dried garlick’s glossy film;

Such was the smoothness of it, and it shone

Sun-bright; full many a maiden, trust me, view’d

The splendid texture with admiring eyes.

But mark me now; deep treasure in thy mind

This word. I know not if Ulysses wore

That cloak at home, or whether of his train

Some warrior gave it to him on his way,

Or else some host of his; for many loved

Ulysses, and with him might few compare.          300

I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword,

A purple cloak magnificent, and vest

Of royal length, and when he sought his bark,

With princely pomp dismiss’d him from the shore.

An herald also waited on the Chief,

Somewhat his Senior; him I next describe.

His back was bunch’d, his visage swarthy, curl’d

His poll, and he was named Eurybates;

A man whom most of all his followers far

Ulysses honour’d, for their minds were one.          310

He ceased; she recognising all the proofs

Distinctly by Ulysses named, was moved

Still more to weep, till with o’erflowing grief

Satiate, at length she answer’d him again.

Henceforth, O stranger, thou who hadst before

My pity, shalt my rev’rence share and love,

I folded for him (with these hands) the cloak

Which thou describ’st, produced it when he went,

And gave it to him; I that splendid clasp

Attach’d to it myself, more to adorn          320

My honour’d Lord, whom to his native land

Return’d secure I shall receive no more.

In such an evil hour Ulysses went

To that bad city never to be named.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Consort revered of Laertiades!

No longer let anxiety impair

Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume

Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses’ sake.

And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived          330

Of her first mate to whom she had produced

Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss,

Although he were inferior far to thine,

Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods.

But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate

A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold

Such tidings of Ulysses living still,

And of his safe return, as I have heard

Lately, in yon neighb’ring opulent land

Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich’d          340

With many precious stores from those obtain’d

Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost,

Departing from Thrinacia’s isle, his bark

And all his lov’d companions in the Deep,

For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun,

Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish’d all

Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel

Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length

Cast forth on the Phæacian’s land, a race

Allied to heav’n, who rev’renced like a God          350

Thy husband, honour’d him with num’rous gifts,

And willing were to have convey’d him home.

Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since

His native shore, but that he deem’d it best

To travel far, that he might still amass

More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind

Excels in policy, and hath no peer.

This information from Thesprotia’s King

I gain’d, from Phidon; to myself he swore,

Libation off’ring under his own roof,          360

That both the bark was launch’d, and the stout crew

Prepared, that should conduct him to his home.

But me he first dismiss’d; for, as it chanced,

A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound

To corn-enrich’d Dulichium. All the wealth

He shew’d me by the Chief amass’d, a store

To feed the house of yet another Prince

To the tenth generation; so immense

His treasures were within that palace lodg’d.

Himself he said was to Dodona gone,          370

Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks

Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek,

After long exile thence, his native land,

If openly were best, or in disguise.

Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home

Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long

Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath.

First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all!

Next these domestic Gods of the renown’d

Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit,          380

That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill’d.

Ulysses shall this self-same year return,

This self-same month, ere yet the next begin.

Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine

Fail not! then, soon shalt thou such bounty share

And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,

Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.

But ah! my soul forebodes how it will prove;

Neither Ulysses will return, nor thou          390

Receive safe conduct hence; for we have here

None, such as once Ulysses was, to rule

His household with authority, and to send

With honourable convoy to his home

The worthy guest, or to regale him here.

Give him the bath, my maidens; spread his couch

With linen soft, with fleecy gaberdines[82]

And rugs of splendid hue, that he may lie

Waiting, well-warm’d, the golden morn’s return.

Attend him also at the peep of day          400

With bath and unction, that, his seat resumed

Here in the palace, he may be prepared

For breakfast with Telemachus; and woe

To him who shall presume to incommode

Or cause him pain; that man shall be cashier’d

Hence instant, burn his anger as it may.

For how, my honour’d inmate! shalt thou learn

That I in wisdom œconomic aught

Pass other women, if unbathed, unoiled,

Ill-clad, thou sojourn here? man’s life is short,          410

Whoso is cruel, and to cruel arts

Addict, on him all men, while yet he lives,

Call plagues and curses down, and after death

Scorn and proverbial mock’ries hunt his name.

But men, humane themselves, and giv’n by choice

To offices humane, from land to land

Are rumour’d honourably by their guests,

And ev’ry tongue is busy in their praise.

Her answer’d then, Ulysses, ever-wise.

Consort revered of Laertiades!          420

Warm gaberdines and rugs of splendid hue

To me have odious been, since first the sight

Of Crete’s snow-mantled mountain-tops I lost,

Sweeping the billows with extended oars.

No; I will pass, as I am wont to pass

The sleepless night; for on a sordid couch

Outstretch’d, full many a night have I reposed

Till golden-charioted Aurora dawn’d.

Nor me the foot-bath pleases more; my foot

Shall none of all thy ministring maidens touch,          430

Unless there be some ancient matron grave

Among them, who hath pangs of heart endured

Num’rous, and keen as I have felt myself;

Her I refuse not. She may touch my feet.

Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.

Dear guest! for of all trav’llers here arrived

From distant regions, I have none received

Discrete as thou, or whom I more have lov’d,

So just thy matter is, and with such grace

Express’d. I have an ancient maiden grave,          440

The nurse who at my hapless husband’s birth

Receiv’d him in her arms, and with kind care

Maternal rear’d him; she shall wash thy feet,

Although decrepid. Euryclea, rise!

Wash one coeval with thy Lord; for such

The feet and hands, it may be, are become

Of my Ulysses now; since man beset

With sorrow once, soon wrinkled grows and old.

She said, then Euryclea with both hands

Cov’ring her face, in tepid tears profuse          450

Dissolved, and thus in mournful strains began.

Alas! my son, trouble for thy dear sake

Distracts me. Jove surely of all mankind

Thee hated most, though ever in thy heart

Devoutly giv’n; for never mortal man

So many thighs of fatted victims burn’d,

And chosen hecatombs produced as thou

To Jove the Thund’rer, him entreating still

That he would grant thee a serene old age,

And to instruct, thyself, thy glorious son.          460

Yet thus the God requites thee, cutting off

All hope of thy return—oh ancient sir!

Him too, perchance, where’er he sits a guest

Beneath some foreign roof, the women taunt,

As all these shameless ones have taunted thee,

Fearing whose mock’ry thou forbidd’st their hands

This office, which Icarius’ daughter wise

To me enjoins, and which I, glad perform.

Yes, I will wash thy feet; both for her sake

And for thy own,—for sight of thee hath raised          470

A tempest in my mind. Hear now the cause!

Full many a guest forlorn we entertain,

But never any have I seen, whose size,

The fashion of whose foot and pitch of voice,

Such likeness of Ulysses show’d, as thine.

To whom Ulysses, ever-shrewd, replied.

Such close similitude, O ancient dame!

As thou observ’st between thy Lord and me,

All, who have seen us both, have ever found.

He said; then taking the resplendent vase          480

Allotted always to that use, she first

Infused cold water largely, then, the warm.

Ulysses (for beside the hearth he sat)

Turn’d quick his face into the shade, alarm’d

Lest, handling him, she should at once remark

His scar, and all his stratagem unveil.

She then, approaching, minister’d the bath

To her own King, and at first touch discern’d

That token, by a bright-tusk’d boar of old

Impress’d, what time he to Parnassus went          490

To visit there Autolycus and his sons,

His mother’s noble sire, who all mankind

In furtive arts and fraudful oaths excell’d.[83]

For such endowments he by gift receiv’d

From Hermes’ self, to whom the thighs of kids

He offer’d and of lambs, and, in return,

The watchful Hermes never left his side.

Autolycus arriving in the isle

Of pleasant Ithaca, the new-born son

Of his own daughter found, whom on his knees          500

At close of supper Euryclea placed,

And thus the royal visitant address’d.

Thyself, Autolycus! devise a name

For thy own daughter’s son, by num’rous pray’rs

Of thine and fervent, from the Gods obtained.

Then answer thus Autolycus return’d.

My daughter and my daughter’s spouse! the name

Which I shall give your boy, that let him bear.

Since after provocation and offence

To numbers giv’n of either sex, I come,          510

Call him Ulysses;[84] and when, grown mature,

He shall Parnassus visit, the abode

Magnificent in which his mother dwelt,

And where my treasures lie, from my own stores

I will enrich and send him joyful home.

Ulysses, therefore, that he might obtain

Those princely gifts, went thither. Him arrived,

With right-hand gratulation and with words

Of welcome kind, Autolycus received,

Nor less his offspring; but the mother most          520

Of his own mother clung around his neck,

Amphithea; she with many a fervent kiss

His forehead press’d, and his bright-beaming eyes.

Then bade Autolycus his noble sons

Set forth a banquet. They, at his command,

Led in a fatted ox of the fifth year,

Which slaying first, they spread him carved abroad,

Then scored his flesh, transfixed it with the spits,

And roasting all with culinary skill

Exact, gave each his portion. Thus they sat          530

Feasting all day, and till the sun declined,

But when the sun declined, and darkness fell,

Each sought his couch, and took the gift of sleep.

Then, soon as day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d

Aurora look’d abroad, forth went the hounds,

And, with the hounds Ulysses, and the youths,

Sons of Autolycus, to chase the boar.

Arrived at the Parnassian mount, they climb’d

His bushy sides, and to his airy heights

Ere long attain’d. It was the pleasant hour          540

When from the gently-swelling flood profound

The sun, emerging, first smote on the fields.

The hunters reach’d the valley; foremost ran,

Questing, the hounds; behind them, swift, the sons

Came of Autolycus, with whom advanced

The illustrious Prince Ulysses, pressing close

The hounds, and brandishing his massy spear.

There, hid in thickest shades, lay an huge boar.

That covert neither rough winds blowing moist

Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun          550

Smite through it, or fast-falling show’rs pervade,

So thick it was, and underneath the ground

With litter of dry foliage strew’d profuse.

Hunters and dogs approaching him, his ear

The sound of feet perceived; upridging high

His bristly back and glaring fire, he sprang

Forth from the shrubs, and in defiance stood

Near and right opposite. Ulysses, first,

Rush’d on him, elevating his long spear

Ardent to wound him; but, preventing quick          560

His foe, the boar gash’d him above the knee.

Much flesh, assailing him oblique, he tore

With his rude tusk, but to the Hero’s bone

Pierced not; Ulysses his right shoulder reach’d;

And with a deadly thrust impell’d the point

Of his bright spear through him and far beyond.

Loud yell’d the boar, sank in the dust, and died.

Around Ulysses, then, the busy sons

Throng’d of Autolycus; expert they braced

The wound of the illustrious hunter bold,          570

With incantation staunched the sable blood,

And sought in haste their father’s house again,

Whence, heal’d and gratified with splendid gifts

They sent him soon rejoicing to his home,

Themselves rejoicing also. Glad their son

His parents saw again, and of the scar

Enquired, where giv’n, and how? He told them all,

How to Parnassus with his friends he went,

Sons of Autolycus to hunt, and how

A boar had gash’d him with his iv’ry tusk.          580

That scar, while chafing him with open palms,

The matron knew; she left his foot to fall;

Down dropp’d his leg into the vase; the brass

Rang, and o’ertilted by the sudden shock,

Poured forth the water, flooding wide the floor.

Her spirit joy at once and sorrow seized;

Tears fill’d her eyes; her intercepted voice

Died in her throat; but to Ulysses’ beard

Her hand advancing, thus, at length, she spake.

Thou art himself, Ulysses. Oh my son!          590

Dear to me, and my master as thou art,

I knew thee not, till I had touch’d the scar.

She said, and to Penelope her eyes

Directed, all impatient to declare

Her own Ulysses even then at home.

But she, nor eye nor ear for aught that pass’d

Had then, her fixt attention so entire

Minerva had engaged. Then, darting forth

His arms, the Hero with his right-hand close

Compress’d her throat, and nearer to himself          600

Drawing her with his left, thus caution’d her.

Why would’st thou ruin me? Thou gav’st me milk

Thyself from thy own breast. See me return’d

After long suff’rings, in the twentieth year,

To my own land. But since (some God the thought

Suggesting to thee) thou hast learn’d the truth,

Silence! lest others learn it from thy lips.

For this I say, nor shall the threat be vain;

If God vouchsafe to me to overcome

The haughty suitors, when I shall inflict          610

Death on the other women of my house,

Although my nurse, thyself shalt also die.

Him answer’d Euryclea then, discrete.

My son! oh how could so severe a word

Escape thy lips? my fortitude of mind

Thou know’st, and even now shalt prove me firm

As iron, secret as the stubborn rock.

But hear and mark me well. Should’st thou prevail,

Assisted by a Pow’r divine, to slay

The haughty suitors, I will then, myself,          620

Give thee to know of all the female train

Who have dishonour’d thee, and who respect.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

My nurse, it were superfluous; spare thy tongue

That needless task. I can distinguish well

Myself, between them, and shall know them all;

But hold thy peace. Hush! leave it with the Gods.

So he; then went the ancient matron forth,

That she might serve him with a second bath,

For the whole first was spilt. Thus, laved at length,          630

And smooth’d with oil, Ulysses nearer pull’d

His seat toward the glowing hearth to enjoy

More warmth, and drew his tatters o’er the scar.

Then, prudent, thus Penelope began.

One question, stranger, I shall yet propound,

Though brief, for soon the hour of soft repose

Grateful to all, and even to the sad

Whom gentle sleep forsakes not, will arrive.

But heav’n to me immeasurable woe

Assigns,—whose sole delight is to consume          640

My days in sighs, while here retired I sit,

Watching my maidens’ labours and my own;

But (night return’d, and all to bed retired)

I press mine also, yet with deep regret

And anguish lacerated, even there.

As when at spring’s first entrance, her sweet song

The azure-crested nightingale renews,

Daughter of Pandarus; within the grove’s

Thick foliage perch’d, she pours her echoing voice

Now deep, now clear, still varying the strain          650

With which she mourns her Itylus, her son

By royal Zethus, whom she, erring, slew,[85]

So also I, by soul-distressing doubts

Toss’d ever, muse if I shall here remain

A faithful guardian of my son’s affairs,

My husband’s bed respecting, and not less

My own fair fame, or whether I shall him

Of all my suitors follow to his home

Who noblest seems, and offers richest dow’r.

My son while he was infant yet, and own’d          660

An infant’s mind, could never give consent

That I should wed and leave him; but at length,

Since he hath reached the stature of a man,

He wishes my departure hence, the waste

Viewing indignant by the suitors made.

But I have dream’d. Hear, and expound my dream.

My geese are twenty, which within my walls

I feed with sodden wheat; they serve to amuse

Sometimes my sorrow. From the mountains came

An eagle, huge, hook-beak’d, brake all their necks,          670

And slew them; scatter’d on the palace-floor

They lay, and he soar’d swift into the skies.

Dream only as it was, I wept aloud,

Till all my maidens, gather’d by my voice,

Arriving, found me weeping still, and still

Complaining, that the eagle had at once

Slain all my geese. But, to the palace-roof

Stooping again, he sat, and with a voice

Of human sound, forbad my tears, and said—

Courage! O daughter of the far-renown’d          680

Icarius! no vain dream thou hast beheld,

But, in thy sleep, a truth. The slaughter’d geese

Denote thy suitors. I who have appear’d

An eagle in thy sight, am yet indeed

Thy husband, who have now, at last, return’d,

Death, horrid death designing for them all.

He said; then waking at the voice, I cast

An anxious look around, and saw my geese

Beside their tray, all feeding as before.

Her then Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.          690

O Queen! it is not possible to miss

Thy dream’s plain import, since Ulysses’ self

Hath told thee the event; thy suitors all

Must perish; not one suitor shall escape.

To whom Penelope discrete replied.

Dreams are inexplicable, O my guest!

And oft-times mere delusions that receive

No just accomplishment. There are two gates

Through which the fleeting phantoms pass; of horn

Is one, and one of ivory.[86] Such dreams          700

As through the thin-leaf’d iv’ry portal come

Sooth, but perform not, utt’ring empty sounds;

But such as through the polish’d horn escape,

If, haply seen by any mortal eye,

Prove faithful witnesses, and are fulfill’d.

But through those gates my wond’rous dream, I think,

Came not; thrice welcome were it else to me

And to my son. Now mark my words; attend.

This is the hated morn that from the house

Removes me of Ulysses. I shall fix,          710

This day, the rings for trial to them all

Of archership; Ulysses’ custom was

To plant twelve spikes, all regular arranged[87]

Like galley-props, and crested with a ring,

Then standing far remote, true in his aim

He with his whizzing shaft would thrid them all.

This is the contest in which now I mean

To prove the suitors; him, who with most ease

Shall bend the bow, and shoot through all the rings,

I follow, this dear mansion of my youth          720

Leaving, so fair, so fill’d with ev’ry good,

Though still to love it even in my dreams.

Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.

Consort revered of Laertiades!

Postpone not this contention, but appoint

Forthwith the trial; for Ulysses here

Will sure arrive, ere they, (his polish’d bow

Long tamp’ring) shall prevail to stretch the nerve,

And speed the arrow through the iron rings.

To whom Penelope replied discrete.          730

Would’st thou with thy sweet converse, O my guest!

Here sooth me still, sleep ne’er should influence

These eyes the while; but always to resist

Sleep’s pow’r is not for man, to whom the Gods

Each circumstance of his condition here

Fix universally. Myself will seek

My own apartment at the palace-top,

And there will lay me down on my sad couch,

For such it hath been, and with tears of mine

Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went          740

To that bad city, never to be named.

There will I sleep; but sleep thou here below,

Either, thyself, preparing on the ground

Thy couch, or on a couch by these prepared.

So saying, she to her splendid chamber thence

Retired, not sole, but by her female train

Attended; there arrived, she wept her spouse,

Her lov’d Ulysses, till Minerva dropp’d

The balm of slumber on her weary lids.

[82] A gaberdine is a shaggy cloak of coarse but warm materials. Such always make part of Homer’s bed-furniture.

[83] Homer’s morals seem to allow to a good man dissimulation, and even an ambiguous oath, should they be necessary to save him from a villain. Thus in Book XX. Telemachus swears by Zeus, that he does not hinder his mother from marrying whom she pleases of the wooers, though at the same time he is plotting their destruction with his father. F.

[84] In the Greek ὈΔΥΣΣΕΥΣ from the verb ὀδυσσω—Irascor, I am angry.

[85] She intended to slay the son of her husband’s brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake she slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.

[86] The difference of the two substances may perhaps serve to account for the preference given in this case to the gate of horn; horn being transparent, and as such emblematical of truth, while ivory, from its whiteness, promises light, but is, in fact, opaque. F.

[87] The translation here is somewhat pleonastic for the sake of perspicuity; the original is clear in itself, but not to us who have no such practice. Twelve stakes were fixt in the earth, each having a ring at the top; the order in which they stood was so exact, that an arrow sent with an even hand through the first ring, would pass them all.

end chapter

BOOK XX

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, doubting whether he shall destroy or not the women servants who commit lewdness with the suitors, resolves at length to spare them for the present. He asks an omen from Jupiter, and that he would grant him also to hear some propitious words from the lips of one in the family. His petitions are both answered. Preparation is made for the feast. Whilst the suitors sit at table, Pallas smites them with a horrid frenzy. Theoclymenus, observing the strange effects of it, prophesies their destruction, and they deride his prophecy.

But in the vestibule the Hero lay

On a bull’s-hide undress’d, o’er which he spread

The fleece of many a sheep slain by the Greeks,

And, cover’d by the household’s governess

With a wide cloak, composed himself to rest.

Yet slept he not, but meditating lay

Woe to his enemies. Meantime, the train

Of women, wonted to the suitors’ arms,

Issuing all mirth and laughter, in his soul

A tempest raised of doubts, whether at once          10

To slay, or to permit them yet to give

Their lusty paramours one last embrace.

As growls the mastiff standing on the start

For battle, if a stranger’s foot approach

Her cubs new-whelp’d—so growl’d Ulysses’ heart,

While wonder fill’d him at their impious deeds.

But, smiting on his breast, thus he reproved

The mutinous inhabitant within.

Heart! bear it. Worse than this thou didst endure

When, uncontroulable by force of man,          20

The Cyclops thy illustrious friends devour’d.

Thy patience then fail’d not, till prudence found

Deliv’rance for thee on the brink of fate.

So disciplined the Hero his own heart,

Which, tractable, endured the rigorous curb,

And patient; yet he turn’d from side to side.

As when some hungry swain turns oft a maw

Unctuous and sav’ry on the burning coals,

Quick expediting his desired repast,

So he from side to side roll’d, pond’ring deep          30

How likeliest with success he might assail

Those shameless suitors; one to many opposed.

Then, sudden from the skies descending, came

Minerva in a female form; her stand

Above his head she took, and thus she spake.

Why sleep’st thou not, unhappiest of mankind?

Thou art at home; here dwells thy wife, and here

Thy son; a son, whom all might wish their own.

Then her Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.

O Goddess! true is all that thou hast said,          40

But, not without anxiety, I muse

How, single as I am, I shall assail

Those shameless suitors who frequent my courts

Daily; and always their whole multitude.

This weightier theme I meditate beside;

Should I, with Jove’s concurrence and with thine

Prevail to slay them, how shall I escape,

Myself, at last?[88] oh Goddess, weigh it well.

Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

Oh faithless man! a man will in his friend          50

Confide, though mortal, and in valour less

And wisdom than himself; but I who keep

Thee in all difficulties, am divine.

I tell thee plainly. Were we hemm’d around

By fifty troops of shouting warriors bent

To slay thee, thou should’st yet securely drive

The flocks away and cattle of them all.

But yield to sleep’s soft influence; for to lie

All night thus watchful, is, itself, distress.

Fear not. Deliv’rance waits, not far remote.          60

So saying, she o’er Ulysses’ eyes diffused

Soft slumbers, and when sleep that sooths the mind

And nerves the limbs afresh had seized him once,

To the Olympian summit swift return’d.

But his chaste spouse awoke; she weeping sat

On her soft couch, and, noblest of her sex,

Satiate at length with tears, her pray’r address’d

First to Diana of the Pow’rs above.

Diana, awful progeny of Jove!

I would that with a shaft this moment sped          70

Into my bosom, thou would’st here conclude

My mournful life! or, oh that, as it flies,

Snatching me through the pathless air, a storm

Would whelm me deep in Ocean’s restless tide!

So, when the Gods their parents had destroy’d,

Storms suddenly the beauteous daughters snatch’d[89]

Of Pandarus away; them left forlorn

Venus with curds, with honey and with wine

Fed duly; Juno gave them to surpass

All women in the charms of face and mind,          80

With graceful stature eminent the chaste

Diana bless’d them, and in works of art

Illustrious, Pallas taught them to excel.

But when the foam-sprung Goddess to the skies

A suitress went on their behalf, to obtain

Blest nuptials for them from the Thund’rer Jove,

(For Jove the happiness, himself, appoints,

And the unhappiness of all below)

Meantime, the Harpies ravishing away

Those virgins, gave them to the Furies Three,          90

That they might serve them. O that me the Gods

Inhabiting Olympus so would hide

From human eyes for ever, or bright-hair’d

Diana pierce me with a shaft, that while

Ulysses yet engages all my thoughts,

My days concluded, I might ’scape the pain

Of gratifying some inferior Chief!

This is supportable, when (all the day

To sorrow giv’n) the mourner sleeps at night;

For sleep, when it hath once the eyelids veil’d,          100

All reminiscence blots of all alike,

Both good and ill; but me the Gods afflict

Not seldom ev’n in dreams, and at my side,

This night again, one lay resembling him;

Such as my own Ulysses when he join’d

Achaia’s warriors; my exulting heart

No airy dream believed it, but a truth.

While thus she spake, in orient gold enthroned

Came forth the morn; Ulysses, as she wept,

Heard plain her lamentation; him that sound          110

Alarm’d; he thought her present, and himself

Known to her. Gath’ring hastily the cloak

His cov’ring, and the fleeces, them he placed

Together on a throne within the hall,

But bore the bull’s-hide forth into the air.

Then, lifting high his hands to Jove, he pray’d.

Eternal Sire! if over moist and dry

Ye have with good-will sped me to my home

After much suff’ring, grant me from the lips

Of some domestic now awake, to hear          120

Words of propitious omen, and thyself

Vouchsafe me still some other sign abroad.

Such pray’r he made, and Jove omniscient heard.

Sudden he thunder’d from the radiant heights

Olympian; glad, Ulysses heard the sound.

A woman, next, a labourer at the mill

Hard by, where all the palace-mills were wrought,

Gave him the omen of propitious sound.

Twelve maidens, day by day, toil’d at the mills,

Meal grinding, some, of barley, some, of wheat,          130

Marrow of man.[90] The rest (their portion ground)

All slept; she only from her task as yet

Ceas’d not, for she was feeblest of them all;

She rested on her mill, and thus pronounced

The happy omen by her Lord desired.

Jove, Father, Governor of heav’n and earth!

Loud thou hast thunder’d from the starry skies

By no cloud veil’d; a sign propitious, giv’n

To whom I know not; but oh grant the pray’r

Of a poor bond-woman! appoint their feast          140

This day, the last that in Ulysses’ house

The suitors shall enjoy, for whom I drudge,

With aching heart and trembling knees their meal

Grinding continual. Feast they here no more!

She ended, and the list’ning Chief received

With equal joy both signs; for well he hoped

That he should punish soon those guilty men.

And now the other maidens in the hall

Assembling, kindled on the hearth again

Th’ unwearied blaze; then, godlike from his couch          150

Arose Telemachus, and, fresh-attired,

Athwart his shoulders his bright faulchion slung,

Bound his fair sandals to his feet, and took

His sturdy spear pointed with glitt’ring brass;

Advancing to the portal, there he stood,

And Euryclea thus, his nurse, bespake.

Nurse! have ye with respectful notice serv’d

Our guest? or hath he found a sordid couch

E’en where he might? for, prudent though she be,

My mother, inattentive oft, the worse          160

Treats kindly, and the better sends away.

Whom Euryclea answer’d, thus, discrete.

Blame not, my son! who merits not thy blame.

The guest sat drinking till he would no more,

And ate, till, question’d, he replied—Enough.

But when the hour of sleep call’d him to rest,

She gave commandment to her female train

To spread his couch. Yet he, like one forlorn,

And, through despair, indiff’rent to himself,

Both bed and rugs refused, and in the porch          170

On skins of sheep and on an undress’d hide

Reposed, where we threw cov’ring over him.

She ceas’d, and, grasping his bright-headed spear,

Forth went the Prince attended, as he went,

By his fleet hounds; to the assembled Greeks

In council with majestic gait he moved,

And Euryclea, daughter wise of Ops,

Pisenor’s son, call’d to the serving-maids.

Haste ye! be diligent! sweep the palace-floor

And sprinkle it; then give the sumptuous seats          180

Their purple coverings. Let others cleanse

With sponges all the tables, wash and rince

The beakers well, and goblets rich-emboss’d;

Run others to the fountain, and bring thence

Water with speed. The suitors will not long

Be absent, but will early come to-day,

For this day is a public festival.[91]

So she; whom all, obedient, heard; forth went

Together, twenty to the crystal fount,

While in their sev’ral provinces the rest          190

Bestirr’d them brisk at home. Then enter’d all

The suitors, and began cleaving the wood.

Meantime, the women from the fountain came,

Whom soon the swine-herd follow’d, driving three

His fattest brawns; them in the spacious court

He feeding left, and to Ulysses’ side

Approaching, courteously bespake the Chief.

Guest! look the Greecians on thee with respect

At length, or still disdainful as before?

Then, answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.          200

Yes—and I would that vengeance from the Gods

Might pay their insolence, who in a house

Not theirs, dominion exercise, and plan

Unseemly projects, shameless as they are!

Thus they conferr’d; and now Melanthius came

The goat-herd, driving, with the aid of two

His fellow-swains, the fattest of his goats

To feast the suitors. In the sounding porch

The goats he tied, then, drawing near, in terms

Reproachful thus assail’d Ulysses’ ear.          210

How, stranger? persever’st thou, begging, still

To vex the suitors? wilt thou not depart?

Scarce shall we settle this dispute, I judge,

Till we have tasted each the other’s fist;

Thou art unreasonable thus to beg

Here always—have the Greeks no feasts beside?

He spake, to whom Ulysses answer none

Return’d, but shook his brows, and, silent, framed

Terrible purposes. Then, third, approach’d

Chief o’er the herds, Philœtius; fatted goats          220

He for the suitors brought, with which he drove

An heifer; (ferry-men had pass’d them o’er,

Carriers of all who on their coast arrive)

He tied them in the sounding porch, then stood

Beside the swine-herd, to whom thus he said.

Who is this guest, Eumæus, here arrived

So lately? from what nation hath he come?

What parentage and country boasts the man?

I pity him, whose figure seems to speak

Royalty in him. Heav’n will surely plunge          230

The race of common wand’rers deep in woe,

If thus it destine even Kings to mourn.

He ceas’d; and, with his right hand, drawing nigh,

Welcom’d Ulysses, whom he thus bespake.

Hail venerable guest! and be thy lot

Prosp’rous at least hereafter, who art held

At present in the bonds of num’rous ills.

Thou, Jupiter, of all the Gods, art most

Severe, and spar’st not to inflict distress

Even on creatures from thyself derived.[92]          240

I had no sooner mark’d thee, than my eyes

Swam, and the sweat gush’d from me at the thought

Of dear Ulysses; for if yet he live

And see the sun, such tatters, I suppose,

He wears, a wand’rer among human-kind.

But if already with the dead he dwell

In Pluto’s drear abode, oh then, alas

For kind Ulysses! who consign’d to me,

While yet a boy, his Cephalenian herds,

And they have now encreas’d to such a store          250

Innumerable of broad-fronted beeves,

As only care like mine could have produced.

These, by command of others, I transport

For their regale, who neither heed his son,

Nor tremble at the anger of the Gods,

But long have wish’d ardently to divide

And share the substance of our absent Lord.

Me, therefore, this thought occupies, and haunts

My mind not seldom; while the heir survives

It were no small offence to drive his herds          260

Afar, and migrate to a foreign land;

Yet here to dwell, suff’ring oppressive wrongs

While I attend another’s beeves, appears

Still less supportable; and I had fled,

And I had served some other mighty Chief

Long since, (for patience fails me to endure

My present lot) but that I cherish still

Some hope of my ill-fated Lord’s return,

To rid his palace of those lawless guests.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.          270

Herdsman! since neither void of sense thou seem’st,

Nor yet dishonest, but myself am sure

That thou art owner of a mind discrete,

Hear therefore, for I swear! bold I attest

Jove and this hospitable board, and these

The Lares[93] of the noble Chief, whose hearth

Protects me now, that, ere thy going hence,

Ulysses surely shall have reach’d his home,

And thou shalt see him, if thou wilt, thyself,

Slaying the suitors who now lord it here.          280

Him answer’d then the keeper of his beeves.

Oh stranger! would but the Saturnian King

Perform that word, thou should’st be taught (thyself

Eye-witness of it) what an arm is mine.

Eumæus also ev’ry power of heav’n

Entreated, that Ulysses might possess

His home again. Thus mutual they conferr’d.

Meantime, in conf’rence close the suitors plann’d

Death for Telemachus; but while they sat

Consulting, on their left the bird of Jove          290

An eagle soar’d, grasping a tim’rous dove.

Then, thus, Amphinomus the rest bespake.

Oh friends! our consultation how to slay

Telemachus, will never smoothly run

To its effect; but let us to the feast.

So spake Amphinomus, whose counsel pleased.

Then, all into the royal house repaired,

And on the thrones and couches throwing off

Their mantles, slew the fatted goats, the brawns,

The sheep full-sized, and heifer of the herd.          300

The roasted entrails first they shared, then fill’d

The beakers, and the swine-herd placed the cups,

Philœtius, chief intendant of the beeves,

Served all with baskets elegant of bread,

While all their cups Melanthius charged with wine,

And they assail’d at once the ready feast.

Meantime Telemachus, with forecast shrewd,

Fast by the marble threshold, but within

The spacious hall his father placed, to whom

A sordid seat he gave and scanty board.          310

A portion of the entrails, next, he set

Before him, fill’d a golden goblet high,

And thus, in presence of them all, began.

There seated now, drink as the suitors drink.

I will, myself, their biting taunts forbid,

And violence. This edifice is mine,

Not public property; my father first

Possess’d it, and my right from him descends.

Suitors! controul your tongues, nor with your hands

Offend, lest contest fierce and war ensue.          320

He ceas’d: they gnawing, sat, their lips, aghast

With wonder that Telemachus in his speech

Such boldness used. Then spake Eupithes’ son,

Antinoüs, and the assembly thus address’d.

Let pass, ye Greeks! the language of the Prince,

Harsh as it is, and big with threats to us.

Had Jove permitted, his orations here,

Although thus eloquent, ere now had ceased.

So spake Antinoüs, whom Ulysses’ son

Heard unconcern’d. And now the heralds came          330

In solemn pomp, conducting through the streets

A sacred hecatomb, when in the grove

Umbrageous of Apollo, King shaft-arm’d,

The assembled Greecians met. The sav’ry roast

Finish’d, and from the spits withdrawn, each shared

His portion of the noble feast, and such

As they enjoy’d themselves the attendants placed

Before Ulysses, for the Hero’s son

Himself, Telemachus, had so enjoined.

But Pallas (that they might exasp’rate more          340

Ulysses) suffer’d not the suitor Chiefs

To banquet, guiltless of heart-piercing scoffs

Malign. There was a certain suitor named

Ctesippus, born in Samos; base of mind

Was he and profligate, but, in the wealth

Confiding of his father, woo’d the wife

Of long-exiled Ulysses. From his seat

The haughty suitors thus that man address’d.

Ye noble suitors, I would speak; attend!

The guest is served; he hath already shared          350

Equal with us; nor less the laws demand

Of hospitality; for neither just

It were nor decent, that a guest, received

Here by Telemachus, should be denied

His portion of the feast. Come then—myself

Will give to him, that he may also give

To her who laved him in the bath, or else

To whatsoever menial here he will.

So saying, he from a basket near at hand

Heav’d an ox-foot, and with a vig’rous arm          360

Hurl’d it. Ulysses gently bow’d his head,

Shunning the blow, but gratified his just

Resentment with a broad sardonic smile[94]

Of dread significance. He smote the wall.

Then thus Telemachus rebuked the deed.

Ctesippus, thou art fortunate; the bone

Struck not the stranger, for he shunn’d the blow;

Else, I had surely thrust my glitt’ring lance

Right through thee; then, no hymenæal rites

Of thine should have employ’d thy father here,          370

But thy funereal. No man therefore treat

Me with indignity within these walls,

For though of late a child, I can discern

Now, and distinguish between good and ill.

Suffice it that we patiently endure

To be spectators daily of our sheep

Slaughter’d, our bread consumed, our stores of wine

Wasted; for what can one to all opposed?

Come then—persist no longer in offence

And hostile hate of me; or if ye wish          380

To slay me, pause not. It were better far

To die, and I had rather much be slain,

Than thus to witness your atrocious deeds

Day after day; to see our guests abused,

With blows insulted, and the women dragg’d

With a licentious violence obscene

From side to side of all this fair abode.

He said, and all sat silent, till at length

Thus Agelaüs spake, Diastor’s son.

My friends! let none with contradiction thwart          390

And rude reply, words rational and just;

Assault no more the stranger, nor of all

The servants of renown’d Ulysses here

Harm any. My advice, both to the Queen

And to Telemachus, shall gentle be,

May it but please them. While the hope survived

Within your bosoms of the safe return

Of wise Ulysses to his native isle,

So long good reason was that she should use

Delay, and hold our wooing in suspence;          400

For had Ulysses come, that course had proved

Wisest and best; but that he comes no more

Appears, now, manifest. Thou, therefore, Prince!

Seeking thy mother, counsel her to wed

The noblest, and who offers richest dow’r,

That thou, for thy peculiar, may’st enjoy

Thy own inheritance in peace and ease,

And she, departing, find another home.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

I swear by Jove, and by my father’s woes,          410

Who either hath deceased far from his home,

Or lives a wand’rer, that I interpose

No hindrance to her nuptials. Let her wed

Who offers most, and even whom she will.

But to dismiss her rudely were a deed

Unfilial—That I dare not—God forbid!

So spake Telemachus. Then Pallas struck

The suitors with delirium; wide they stretch’d

Their jaws with unspontaneous laughter loud;

Their meat dripp’d blood; tears fill’d their eyes, and dire

Presages of approaching woe, their hearts.          421

Then thus the prophet Theoclymenus.[95]

Ah miserable men! what curse is this

That takes you now? night wraps itself around

Your faces, bodies, limbs; the palace shakes

With peals of groans—and oh, what floods ye weep!

I see the walls and arches dappled thick

With gore; the vestibule is throng’d, the court

On all sides throng’d with apparitions grim

Of slaughter’d men sinking into the gloom          430

Of Erebus; the sun is blotted out

From heav’n, and midnight whelms you premature.

He said, they, hearing, laugh’d; and thus the son

Of Polybus, Eurymachus replied.

This wand’rer from a distant shore hath left

His wits behind. Hoa there! conduct him hence

Into the forum; since he dreams it night

Already, teach him there that it is day.

Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus.

I have no need, Eurymachus, of guides          440

To lead me hence, for I have eyes and ears,

The use of both my feet, and of a mind

In no respect irrational or wild.

These shall conduct me forth, for well I know

That evil threatens you, such, too, as none

Shall ’scape of all the suitors, whose delight

Is to insult the unoffending guest

Received beneath this hospitable roof.

He said, and, issuing from the palace, sought

Piræus’ house, who gladly welcom’d him.          450

Then all the suitors on each other cast

A look significant, and, to provoke

Telemachus the more, fleer’d at his guests.

Of whom a youth thus, insolent began.

No living wight, Telemachus, had e’er

Guests such as thine. Witness, we know not who,

This hungry vagabond, whose means of life

Are none, and who hath neither skill nor force

To earn them, a mere burthen on the ground.

Witness the other also, who upstarts          460

A prophet suddenly. Take my advice;

I counsel wisely; send them both on board

Some gallant bark to Sicily for sale;

Thus shall they somewhat profit thee at last.

So spake the suitors, whom Telemachus

Heard unconcern’d, and, silent, look’d and look’d

Toward his father, watching still the time

When he should punish that licentious throng.

Meantime, Icarius’ daughter, who had placed

Her splendid seat opposite, heard distinct          470

Their taunting speeches. They, with noisy mirth,

Feasted deliciously, for they had slain

Many a fat victim; but a sadder feast

Than, soon, the Goddess and the warrior Chief

Should furnish for them, none shall ever share.

Of which their crimes had furnish’d first the cause.

[88] That is, how shall I escape the vengeance of their kindred?

[89] Aĕdon, Cleothera, Merope.

[90] μυελον ανδρων.

[91] The new moon.

[92] He is often called—πατηρ ανδρων τε θεων τε.

[93] Household Gods who presided over the hearth.

[94] A smile of displeasure.

[95] Who had sought refuge in the ship of Telemachus when he left Sparta, and came with him to Ithaca.

end chapter

BOOK XXI

ARGUMENT

Penelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.

Minerva, now, Goddess cærulean-eyed,

Prompted Icarius’ daughter, the discrete

Penelope, with bow and rings to prove

Her suitors in Ulysses’ courts, a game

Terrible in conclusion to them all.

First, taking in her hand the brazen key

Well-forged, and fitted with an iv’ry grasp,

Attended by the women of her train

She sought her inmost chamber, the recess

In which she kept the treasures of her Lord,          10

His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.

Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill’d

With num’rous shafts, a fatal store. That bow

He had received and quiver from the hand

Of godlike Iphitus Eurytides,

Whom, in Messenia,[96] in the house he met

Of brave Orsilochus. Ulysses came

Demanding payment of arrearage due

From all that land; for a Messenian fleet

Had borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep,          20

With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yet

Adult, he voyaged to that distant shore,

Deputed by his sire, and by the Chiefs

Of Ithaca, to make the just demand.

But Iphitus had thither come to seek

Twelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,

A search that cost him soon a bloody death.

For, coming to the house of Hercules

The valiant task-performing son of Jove,

He perish’d there, slain by his cruel host          30

Who, heedless of heav’n’s wrath, and of the rights

Of his own board, first fed, then slaughter’d him;

For in his house the mares and colts were hidden.

He, therefore, occupied in that concern,

Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bow

Which, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and which

Himself had from his dying sire received.

Ulysses, in return, on him bestowed

A spear and sword, pledges of future love

And hospitality; but never more          40

They met each other at the friendly board,

For, ere that hour arrived, the son of Jove

Slew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.

Thus came the bow into Ulysses’ hands,

Which, never in his gallant barks he bore

To battle with him, (though he used it oft

In times of peace) but left it safely stored

At home, a dear memorial of his friend.

Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrived

At that same chamber, with her foot she press’d          50

The oaken threshold bright, on which the hand

Of no mean architect had stretch’d the line,

Who had erected also on each side

The posts on which the splendid portals hung,

She loos’d the ring and brace, then introduced

The key, and aiming at them from without,[97]

Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,

Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur’d bull’s,

And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,

The elevated floor on which the chests          60

That held her own fragrant apparel stood,

With lifted hand aloft took down the bow

In its embroider’d bow-case safe enclosed.

Then, sitting there, she lay’d it on her knees,

Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.

Thus weeping over it long time she sat,

Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,

Descending by the palace steps she sought

Again the haughty suitors, with the bow

Elastic, and the quiver in her hand          70

Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.

Her maidens, as she went, bore after her

A coffer fill’d with prizes by her Lord,

Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,

Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,

Between the pillars of the stately dome

Pausing, before her beauteous face she held

Her lucid veil, and by two matrons chaste

Supported, the assembly thus address’d.

Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt          80

This palace of a Chief long absent hence,

Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,

Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,

Save your ambition to make me a bride—

Attend this game to which I call you forth.

Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bow

Of wide-renown’d Ulysses; he who draws

Easiest the bow, and who his arrow sends

Through twice six rings, he takes me to his home,

And I must leave this mansion of my youth          90

Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oft

I shall remember even in my dreams.

So saying, she bade Eumæus lay the bow

Before them, and the twice six rings of steel.

He wept, received them, and obey’d; nor wept

The herdsman less, seeing the bow which erst

His Lord had occupied; when at their tears

Indignant, thus, Antinoüs began.

Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see not

Beyond the present hour, egregious fools!          100

Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too much

Before afflicted for her husband lost?

Either partake the banquet silently,

Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,

That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,

None here shall bend this polish’d bow with ease,

Since in this whole assembly I discern

None like Ulysses, whom myself have seen

And recollect, though I was then a boy.

He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope          110

Cherish’d, that he should bend, himself, the bow,

And pass the rings; yet was he destin’d first

Of all that company to taste the steel

Of brave Ulysses’ shaft, whom in that house

He had so oft dishonour’d, and had urged

So oft all others to the like offence.

Amidst them, then, the sacred might arose

Of young Telemachus, who thus began.

Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprived

Me of all reason. My own mother, fam’d          120

For wisdom as she is, makes known to all

Her purpose to abandon this abode

And follow a new mate, while, heedless, I

Trifle and laugh as I were still a child.

But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,

A woman like to whom none can be found

This day in all Achaia; on the shores

Of sacred Pylus; in the cities proud

Of Argos or Mycenæ; or even here

In Ithaca; or yet within the walls          130

Of black Epirus; and since this yourselves

Know also, wherefore should I speak her praise?

Come then, delay not, waste not time in vain

Excuses, turn not from the proof, but bend

The bow, that thus the issue may be known.

I also will, myself, that task essay;

And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,

Then shall not my illustrious mother leave

Her son forlorn, forsaking this abode

To follow a new spouse, while I remain          140

Disconsolate, although of age to bear,

Successful as my sire, the prize away.

So saying, he started from his seat, cast off

His purple cloak, and lay’d his sword aside,

Then fix’d, himself, the rings, furrowing the earth

By line, and op’ning one long trench for all,

And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seized

All present, seeing with how prompt a skill

He executed, though untaught, his task.

Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood.          150

Thrice, struggling, he essay’d to bend the bow,

And thrice desisted, hoping still to draw

The bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.[98]

And now the fourth time striving with full force

He had prevail’d to string it, but his sire

Forbad his eager efforts by a sign.

Then thus the royal youth to all around—

Gods! either I shall prove of little force

Hereafter, and for manly feats unapt,

Or I am yet too young, and have not strength          160

To quell the aggressor’s contumely. But come—

(For ye have strength surpassing mine) try ye

The bow, and bring this contest to an end.

He ceas’d, and set the bow down on the floor,

Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth

That lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,

Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,

And to the seat, whence he had ris’n, return’d.

Then thus Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs spake.

My friends! come forth successive from the right,[99]          170

Where he who ministers the cup begins.

So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.

Then, first, Leiodes, Œnop’s son, arose.

He was their soothsayer, and ever sat

Beside the beaker, inmost of them all.

To him alone, of all, licentious deeds

Were odious, and, with indignation fired,

He witness’d the excesses of the rest.

He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,

And, station’d at the portal, strove to bend          180

But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his hands

Delicate and uncustom’d to the toil.

He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.

My friends, I speed not; let another try;

For many Princes shall this bow of life

Bereave, since death more eligible seems,

Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meet

Continual here, expecting still the prize.

Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopes

That he shall wed whom long he hath desired,          190

Ulysses’ wife, Penelope; let him

Essay the bow, and, trial made, address

His spousal offers to some other fair

Among the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,

This Princess leaving his, whose proffer’d gifts

Shall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.

He said, and set the bow down on the floor,

Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth

That lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,

Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,          200

And to the seat whence he had ris’n return’d.

Then him Antinoüs, angry, thus reproved.

What word, Leiodes, grating to our ears

Hath scap’d thy lips? I hear it with disdain.

Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,

Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble proved

To bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bend

The unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,

But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.

He said, and to Melanthius gave command,          210

The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;

Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a form

Of length commodious; from within procure

A large round cake of suet next, with which

When we have chafed and suppled the tough bow

Before the fire, we will again essay

To bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.

He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fire

Beside it placed, with fleeces spread, a form

Of length commodious; next, he brought a cake          220

Ample and round of suet from within,

With which they chafed the bow, then tried again

To bend, but bent it not; superior strength

To theirs that task required. Yet two, the rest

In force surpassing, made no trial yet,

Antinoüs, and Eurymachus the brave.

Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forth

Together; after whom, the glorious Chief

Himself the house left also, and when all

Without the court had met, with gentle speech          230

Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address’d.

Herdsman! and thou, Eumæus! shall I keep

A certain secret close, or shall I speak

Outright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.

What welcome should Ulysses at your hands

Receive, arriving suddenly at home,

Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,

Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.

Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.

Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see          240

Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow’r,

Restore him, I would shew thee soon an arm

Strenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.

Eumæus, also, fervently implored

The Gods in pray’r, that they would render back

Ulysses to his home. He, then, convinced

Of their unfeigning honesty, began.

Behold him! I am he myself, arrived

After long suff’rings in the twentieth year!

I know how welcome to yourselves alone          250

Of all my train I come, for I have heard

None others praying for my safe return.

I therefore tell you truth; should heav’n subdue

The suitors under me, ye shall receive

Each at my hands a bride, with lands and house

Near to my own, and ye shall be thenceforth

Dear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.

Lo! also this indisputable proof

That ye may know and trust me. View it here.

It is the scar which in Parnassus erst          260

(Where with the sons I hunted of renown’d

Autolycus) I from a boar received.

So saying, he stripp’d his tatters, and unveil’d

The whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seen

And surely recognized the mark, each cast

His arms around Ulysses, wept, embraced

And press’d him to his bosom, kissing oft

His brows and shoulders, who as oft their hands

And foreheads kiss’d, nor had the setting sun

Beheld them satisfied, but that himself          270

Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.

Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,

Mark and report them to our foes within.

Now, to the hall again, but one by one,

Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,

And this shall be the sign. Full well I know

That, all unanimous, they will oppose

Deliv’ry of the bow and shafts to me;

But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)

Eumæus, noble friend! shalt give the bow          280

Into my grasp; then bid the women close

The massy doors, and should they hear a groan

Or other noise made by the Princes shut

Within the hall, let none set step abroad,

But all work silent. Be the palace-door

Thy charge, my good Philœtius! key it fast

Without a moment’s pause, and fix the brace.[100]

He ended, and, returning to the hall,

Resumed his seat; nor stay’d his servants long

Without, but follow’d their illustrious Lord.          290

Eurymachus was busily employ’d

Turning the bow, and chafing it before

The sprightly blaze, but, after all, could find

No pow’r to bend it. Disappointment wrung

A groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.

Alas! not only for myself I grieve,

But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the loss

Of such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,

(For lovely Greecians may be found no few

In Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles)          300

But should we so inferior prove at last

To brave Ulysses, that no force of ours

Can bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.

To whom Antinoüs, thus, Eupithes’ son.

Not so; (as even thou art well-assured

Thyself, Eurymachus!) but Phœbus claims

This day his own. Who then, on such a day,

Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.

And should we leave the rings where now they stand,

I trust that none ent’ring Ulysses’ house          310

Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!

Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,

We may religiously lay down the bow.

Command ye too Melanthius, that he drive

Hither the fairest goats of all his flocks

At dawn of day, that burning first, the thighs

To the ethereal archer, we may make

New trial, and decide, at length, the strife.

So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.

The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,          320

While youths crown’d high the goblets which they bore

From right to left, distributing to all.

When each had made libation, and had drunk

Till well sufficed, then, artful to effect

His shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.

Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,

My bosom’s dictates. But I shall entreat

Chiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youth

Antinoüs, whose advice is wisely giv’n.

Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave          330

The matter with the Gods, who shall decide

The strife to-morrow, fav’ring whom they will.

Meantime, grant me the polish’d bow, that I

May trial make among you of my force,

If I retain it still in like degree

As erst, or whether wand’ring and defect

Of nourishment have worn it all away.

He said, whom they with indignation heard

Extreme, alarm’d lest he should bend the bow,

And sternly thus Antinoüs replied.          340

Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprived

Of reason utterly! art not content?

Esteem’st it not distinction proud enough

To feast with us the nobles of the land?

None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessest

Our whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,

No needy vagrant is allow’d to hear.

Thou art befool’d by wine, as many have been,

Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain’d by rule.

Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief          350

Pirithoüs, made the valiant Centaur mad

Eurytion, at the Lapithæan feast.[101]

He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,

Committed great enormities beneath

Pirithoüs’ roof, and such as fill’d with rage

The Hero-guests; who therefore by his feet

Dragg’d him right through the vestibule, amerced

Of nose and ears, and he departed thence

Provoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,

Whence war between the human kind arose          360

And the bold Centaurs—but he first incurred

By his ebriety that mulct severe.

Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,

To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt find

Advocate or protector none in all

This people, but we will dispatch thee hence

Incontinent on board a sable bark

To Echetus, the scourge of human kind,

From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,

And contest shun with younger men than thou.          370

Him answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.

Antinoüs! neither seemly were the deed

Nor just, to maim or harm whatever guest

Whom here arrived Telemachus receives.

Canst thou expect, that should he even prove

Stronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,

He will conduct me hence to his own home,

And make me his own bride? No such design

His heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dread

So vain the mind of any overcloud          380

Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.

So she; to whom Eurymachus reply’d,

Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!

Icarius’ prudent daughter! none suspects

That thou wilt wed with him; a mate so mean

Should ill become thee; but we fear the tongues

Of either sex, lest some Achaian say

Hereafter, (one inferior far to us)

Ah! how unworthy are they to compare

With him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow          390

Pass’d all their pow’r, yet this poor vagabond,

Arriving from what country none can tell,

Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.

So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.

Then answer, thus, Penelope return’d.

No fair report, Eurymachus, attends

Their names or can, who, riotous as ye,

The house dishonour, and consume the wealth

Of such a Chief. Why shame ye thus yourselves?

The guest is of athletic frame, well form’d,          400

And large of limb; he boasts him also sprung

From noble ancestry. Come then—consent—

Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;

For thus I say, and thus will I perform;

Sure as he bends it, and Apollo gives

To him that glory, tunic fair and cloak

Shall be his meed from me, a javelin keen

To guard him against men and dogs, a sword

Of double edge, and sandals for his feet,

And I will send him whither most he would.          410

Her answer’d then prudent Telemachus.

Mother—the bow is mine; and, save myself,

No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.

None who in rock-bound Ithaca possess

Dominion, none in the steed-pastured isles

Of Elis, if I chose to make the bow

His own for ever, should that choice controul.

But thou into the house repairing, ply

Spindle and loom, thy province, and enjoin

Diligence to thy maidens; for the bow          420

Is man’s concern alone, and shall be mine

Especially, since I am master here.

She heard astonish’d, and the prudent speech

Reposing of her son deep in her heart,

Withdrew; then mounting with her female train

To her superior chamber, there she wept

Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed

With balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.

And now the noble swine-herd bore the bow

Toward Ulysses, but with one voice all          430

The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,

Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim’d.

Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear’st the bow,

Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train’d

Shall eat thee at thy solitary home

Ere long, let but Apollo prove, at last,

Propitious to us, and the Pow’rs of heav’n.

So they, whom hearing he replaced the bow

Where erst it stood, terrified at the sound

Of such loud menaces; on the other side          440

Telemachus as loud assail’d his ear.

Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repent

That thou obey’dst the many. I will else

With huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,

Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.

I would to heav’n that I in force excell’d

As far, and prowess, every suitor here!

So would I soon give rude dismission hence

To some, who live but to imagine harm.

He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard.          450

And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign’d

Against Telemachus; then through the hall

Eumæus bore, and to Ulysses’ hand

Consign’d the bow; next, summoning abroad

The ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.

It is the pleasure of Telemachus,

Sage Euryclea! that thou key secure

The doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groan

Or other noise made by the Princes shut

Within the hall, let none look, curious, forth,          460

But each in quietness pursue her work.

So he; nor flew his words useless away,

But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.

Then, noiseless, sprang Philœtius forth, who closed

The portals also of the palace-court.

A ship-rope of Ægyptian reed, it chanced,

Lay in the vestibule; with that he braced

The doors securely, and re-entring fill’d

Again his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.

He, now, assaying with his hand the bow,          470

Made curious trial of it ev’ry way,

And turn’d it on all sides, lest haply worms

Had in its master’s absence drill’d the horn.

Then thus a suitor to his next remark’d.

He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill’d

In bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,

Hath such himself, or feels a strong desire

To make them; so inquisitive the rogue

Adept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!

To whom another, insolent, replied.          480

I wish him like prosperity in all

His efforts, as attends his effort made

On this same bow, which he shall never bend.

So they; but when the wary Hero wise

Had made his hand familiar with the bow

Poising it and examining—at once—

As when in harp and song adept, a bard

Unlab’ring strains the chord to a new lyre,

The twisted entrails of a sheep below

With fingers nice inserting, and above,          490

With such facility Ulysses bent

His own huge bow, and with his right hand play’d

The nerve, which in its quick vibration sang

Clear as the swallow’s voice. Keen anguish seized

The suitors, wan grew ev’ry cheek, and Jove

Gave him his rolling thunder for a sign.

That omen, granted to him by the son

Of wily Saturn, with delight he heard.

He took a shaft that at the table-side

Lay ready drawn; but in his quiver’s womb          500

The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proud

To be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg’d

The arrow on the centre of the bow,

And, occupying still his seat, drew home

Nerve and notch’d arrow-head; with stedfast sight

He aimed and sent it; right through all the rings

From first to last the steel-charged weapon flew

Issuing beyond, and to his son he spake.

Thou need’st not blush, young Prince, to have received

A guest like me; neither my arrow swerved,          510

Nor labour’d I long time to draw the bow;

My strength is unimpair’d, not such as these

In scorn affirm it. But the waning day

Calls us to supper, after which succeeds[102]

Jocund variety, the song, the harp,

With all that heightens and adorns the feast.

He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.

At once the son of the illustrious Chief

Slung his keen faulchion, grasp’d his spear, and stood

Arm’d bright for battle at his father’s side.          520

[96] A province of Laconia.

[97] The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.—The translation, I believe, is exact.

[98] This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.

[99] Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen’s sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.

[100] The δεσμὸς seems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.

[101] When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.

[102] This is an instance of the Σαρδανιον μαλα τοιον mentioned in Book XX.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.

end chapter

BOOK XXII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, with some little assistance from Telemachus, Eumæus and Philœtius, slays all the suitors, and twelve of the female servants who had allowed themselves an illicit intercourse with them, are hanged. Melanthius also is punished with miserable mutilation.

Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprang

With bow and full-charged quiver to the door;

Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’d

His arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.

This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.

Now for another mark which never man

Struck yet, but I will strike it if I may,

And if Apollo make that glory mine.

He said, and at Antinoüs aimed direct

A bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink,          10

Both hands advanced toward the golden cup

Twin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh.

For who, at the full banquet, could suspect

That any single guest, however brave,

Should plan his death, and execute the blow?

Yet him Ulysses with an arrow pierced

Full in the throat, and through his neck behind

Started the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d;

Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flew

The spouted blood, and spurning with his foot          20

The board, he spread his viands in the dust.

Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall’n,

Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,

Flew ev’ry way, and on all sides explored

The palace-walls, but neither sturdy lance

As erst, nor buckler could they there discern,

Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.

Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a man

Is no just mark. Thou never shalt dispute

Prize more. Inevitable death is thine.          30

For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of all

In Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.

Various their judgments were, but none believed

That he had slain him wittingly, nor saw

Th’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all.

Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.

O dogs! not fearing aught my safe return

From Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,

Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,

While yet I lived, to make my consort yours,          40

Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’n

Alike, and of the just revenge of man.

But death is on the wing; death for you all.

He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,

And each with sharpen’d eyes search’d ev’ry nook

For an escape from his impending doom,

Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.

If thou indeed art he, the mighty Chief

Of Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’d

With truth the crimes committed by the Greeks          50

Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.

But he, already, who was cause of all,

Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’d

With outrage, not solicitous so much

To win the fair Penelope, but thoughts

Far diff’rent framing, which Saturnian Jove

Hath baffled all; to rule, himself, supreme

In noble Ithaca, when he had kill’d

By an insidious stratagem thy son.

But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own,          60

Thy people; public reparation due

Shall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrath

For all the waste that, eating, drinking here

We have committed, we will yield thee, each,

Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee beside

And brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,

However just thine anger was before.

To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,

Eurymachus, would ye contribute each

His whole inheritance, and other sums          70

Still add beside, ye should not, even so,

These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,

Till ev’ry suitor suffer for his wrong.

Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape

(Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,

But ye all perish, if my thought be true.

He ended, they with trembling knees and hearts

All heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.

To your defence, my friends! for respite none

Will he to his victorious hands afford,          80

But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatch

Shafts from the door till he have slain us all.

Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—oppose

The tables to his shafts, and all at once

Rush on him; that, dislodging him at least

From portal and from threshold, we may give

The city on all sides a loud alarm,

So shall this archer soon have shot his last.

Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keen

Of double edge, and with a dreadful cry          90

Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaft

In that same moment through his bosom driv’n

Transfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword.

He, staggering around his table, fell

Convolv’d in agonies, and overturn’d

Both food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;

Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heels

His vacant seat, he shook it till he died.

Then, with his faulchion drawn, Amphinomus

Advanced to drive Ulysses from the door,          100

And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,

Telemachus between his shoulders fix’d

A brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.

Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.

Leaving the weapon planted in his spine

Back flew Telemachus, lest, had he stood

Drawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,

Should either pierce him with a sudden thrust

Oblique, or hew him with a downright edge.

Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran,          110

Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.

My father! I will now bring thee a shield,

An helmet, and two spears; I will enclose

Myself in armour also, and will give

Both to the herdsmen and Eumæus arms

Expedient now, and needful for us all.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,

Lest, single, I be justled from the door.

He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince,          120

Seeking the chamber where he had secured

The armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,

With four hair-crested helmets, charged with which

He hasted to his father’s side again,

And, arming first himself, furnish’d with arms

His two attendants. Then, all clad alike

In splendid brass, beside the dauntless Chief

Ulysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.

He, while a single arrow unemploy’d

Lay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced          130

Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.

But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief,

His bow reclining at the portal’s side

Against the palace-wall, he slung, himself,

A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’d

A casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his brows

On his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripe

With two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.

There was a certain postern in the wall[103]

At the gate-side, the customary pass          140

Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure.

Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watch

That egress, station’d near it, for it own’d

One sole approach; then Agelaüs loud

Exhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.

Oh friends, will none, ascending to the door

Of yonder postern, summon to our aid

The populace, and spread a wide alarm?

So shall this archer soon have shot his last.

To whom the keeper of the goats replied          150

Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d!

That may not be. The postern and the gate[104]

Neighbour too near each other, and to force

The narrow egress were a vain attempt;

One valiant man might thence repulse us all.

But come—myself will furnish you with arms

Fetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose,

(And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his son

Have hidden them, and there they shall be found.

So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought          160

Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairs

And gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thence

He took, as many spears, and helmets bright

As many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’d

And gave them to his friends. Trembled the heart

Of brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sight

Of his opposers putting armour on,

And shaking each his spear; arduous indeed

Now seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents brief

Thus to his son Telemachus he spake.          170

Either some woman of our train contrives

Hard battle for us, furnishing with arms

The suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.

Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete.

Father, this fault was mine, and be it charged

On none beside; I left the chamber-door

Unbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself,

Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shut

The chamber-door, observing well, the while,

If any women of our train have done          180

This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,

Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.

Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, again

Melanthius to the chamber flew in quest

Of other arms. Eumæus, as he went,

Mark’d him, and to Ulysses’ thus he spake.

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,

Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,

Shall I, should I superior prove in force,          190

Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,

That he may suffer at thy hands the doom

Due to his treasons perpetrated oft

Against thee, here, even in thy own house?

Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d.

I, with Telemachus, will here immew

The lordly suitors close, rage as they may.

Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ hands

And feet behind his back, then cast him bound

Into the chamber, and (the door secured)          200

Pass underneath his arms a double chain,

And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloft

Till he approach the rafters, there to endure,

Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.

He spake; they prompt obey’d; together both

They sought the chamber, whom the wretch within

Heard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms.

They watching stood the door, from which, at length,

Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one hand

A casque, and in the other a broad shield          210

Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youth

Warlike Laertes had been wont to bear.

Long time neglected it had lain, till age

Had loosed the sutures of its bands. At once

Both, springing on him, seized and drew him in

Forcibly by his locks, then cast him down

Prone on the pavement, trembling at his fate.

With painful stricture of the cord his hands

They bound and feet together at his back,

As their illustrious master had enjoined,          220

Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloft

By a tall pillar to the palace-roof,

And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.

Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bed

Reclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watch

All night, nor when the golden dawn forsakes

The ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,

But thou wilt duly to the palace drive

The fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.

So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling.          230

Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,

They sought brave Laertiades again.

And now, courageous at the portal stood

Those four, by numbers in the interior house

Opposed of adversaries fierce in arms,

When Pallas, in the form and with the voice

Approach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ son

Beheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.

Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friend

And benefactor, born when thou wast born.          240

So he, not unsuspicious that he saw

Pallas, the heroine of heav’n. Meantime

The suitors fill’d with menaces the dome,

And Agelaüs, first, Damastor’s son,

In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.

Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee not

To oppose the suitors and to aid himself,

For thus will we. Ulysses and his son

Both slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deeds

Against us, we will slay thee next, and thou          250

With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.

Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealth

Whether in house or field, mingled with his,

We will confiscate, neither will we leave

Or son of thine, or daughter in thy house

Alive, nor shall thy virtuous consort more

Within the walls of Ithaca be seen.

He ended, and his words with wrath inflamed

Minerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’d

Towards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved.          260

Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force,

Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’st

At Ilium, waging battle obstinate

For high-born Helen, and in horrid fight

Destroying multitudes, till thy advice

At last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low.

Why, in possession of thy proper home

And substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’oppose

The suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,

And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides          270

A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.

She spake; nor made she victory as yet

Entire his own, proving the valour, first,

Both of the sire and of his glorious son,

But, springing in a swallow’s form aloft,

Perch’d on a rafter of the splendid roof.

Then, Agelaüs animated loud

The suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,

Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,

And Polyctorides, Pisander named,          280

And Polybus the brave; for noblest far

Of all the suitor-chiefs who now survived

And fought for life were these. The bow had quell’d

And shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.

Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.

We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior’s might,

Whom Mentor, after all his airy vaunts

Hath left, and at the portal now remain

Themselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,

Your spears together, but with six alone          290

Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierce

Ulysses, and subduing him, shall slay

With ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.

He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spear

Together; but Minerva gave them all

A devious flight; one struck a column, one

The planks of the broad portal, and a third[105]

Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brass

Against the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spear

Eluded) thus Ulysses gave the word—          300

Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismiss

Your spears at them, who, not content with past

Enormities, thirst also for our blood.

He said, and with unerring aim, all threw

Their glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the ground

Stretch’d Demoptolemus; Euryades

Fell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slew

El[)a]tus; and the keeper of the beeves

Pisander; in one moment all alike

Lay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor.          310

Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,

On whom those valiant four advancing, each

Recover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead.

Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet again

Their glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to each

A frustrate course; one struck a column, one

The planks of the broad portal, and a third

Flung full his ashen beam against the wall.

Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist,

But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield          320

Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the good

Eumæus, but his glancing weapon swift

O’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,

Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friends

All hurl’d their spears together in return,

Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,

Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ son

Amphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;

And in his breast the keeper of the beeves

Ctesippus, glorying over whom, he cried.          330

Oh son of Polytherses! whose delight

Hath been to taunt and jeer, never again

Boast foolishly, but to the Gods commit

Thy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.

Take this—a compensation for thy pledge

Of hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,

Which while he roam’d the palace, begging alms,

Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.

So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,

Ulysses pierced Damastor’s son, and, next,          340

Telemachus, enforcing his long beam

Sheer through his bowels and his back, transpierced

Leiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.

Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forth

Her host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads,

With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hall

Fled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’d

The gad-fly dissipates, infester fell

Of beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.

But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d[106]          350

Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;

Terrified at the toils that spread the plain

The flocks take wing, they, darting from above,

Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escape

Is none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,

So they, pursuing through the spacious hall

The suitors, smote them on all sides, their heads

Sounded beneath the sword, with hideous groans

The palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.

Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees,          360

Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.

I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect

My suit, and spare me! Never have I word

Injurious spoken, or injurious deed

Attempted ’gainst the women of thy house,

But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.

Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fate

Due to their wickedness have, therefore, found.

But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,

Though unoffending; such is the return          370

By mortals made for benefits received!

To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.

Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for these

The seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oft

Thy pray’r hath been that distant far might prove

The day delectable of my return,

And that my consort might thy own become

To bear thee children; wherefore thee I doom

To a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.

So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor          380

Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smote

Leiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neck

So suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceased

To plead for life, his head was in the dust.

But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,

Who, through compulsion, with his song regaled

The suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.

Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,

Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seat

Beside the altar of Hercæan Jove,[107]          390

Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,

Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,

An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.

That course, at length, most pleased him; then, between

The beaker and an argent-studded throne

He grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fast

The Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.

I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect

My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape

Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay          400

Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.

Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind

Themes of all argument from heav’n inspired,

And I can sing to thee as to a God.

Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wish

Far from thee! for thy own beloved son

Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’n

By stress of want, resorting to thine house

I have regaled these revellers so oft,

But under force of mightier far than I.          410

So he; whose words soon as the sacred might

Heard of Telemachus, approaching quick

His father, thus, humane, he interposed.

Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edge

This blameless man; and we will also spare

Medon the herald, who hath ever been

A watchful guardian of my boyish years,

Unless Philœtius have already slain him,

Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,

Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes.          420

He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he lay

Beneath a throne, and in a new-stript hide

Enfolded, trembling with the dread of death)

Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting off

The skin, flew to Telemachus, embraced

His knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.

Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repress

Thine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,

That he destroy not me, through fierce revenge

Of their iniquities who have consumed          430

His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,

Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own son

Hath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyself

That truth) teach others the superior worth

Of benefits with injuries compared.

But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,

That ye may sit distant in yonder court

From all this carnage, while I give command,

Myself, concerning it, to those within.          440

He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seat

Beside Jove’s altar, but with careful looks

Suspicious, dreading without cease the sword.

Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in quest

Of living foes, if any still survived

Unpunish’d; but he found them all alike

Welt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they lay

Like fishes when they strew the sinuous shore

Of Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn aground

In nets of many a mesh; they on the sands          450

Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hot

The gazing sun dries all their life away;

So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at length

The prudent Chief gave order to his son.

Telemachus! bid Euryclea come

Quickly, the nurse, to whom I would impart

The purpose which now occupies me most.

He said; obedient to his sire, the Prince

Smote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.

Arise thou ancient governess of all          460

Our female menials, and come forth; attend

My father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.

So he; nor flew his words useless away,

For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,

And, by Telemachus conducted, found

Ere long Ulysses amid all the slain,

With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’d

As from the pastur’d ox newly-devoured

The lion stalking back; his ample chest

With gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung,          470

Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,

Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spread

On all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,

Felt impulse forcible to publish loud

That wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’d

The shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,

And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.

Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!

Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voice

Of loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men.          480

Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ will

Have slain all these; for whether noble guest

Arrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,

And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.

But say; of my domestic women, who

Have scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?

To whom good Euryclea thus replied.

My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’st

Female domestics fifty in thy house,

Whom we have made intelligent to comb          490

The fleece, and to perform whatever task.

Of these, twice six have overpass’d the bounds

Of modesty, respecting neither me,

Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adult

So lately, no permission had from her

To regulate the women of her train.

But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’d

To the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so sound

She sleeps, by some divinity composed.

Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned.          500

Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first

Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.

He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dame

To summon those bad women, and, meantime,

Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,

Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.

Bestir ye, and remove the dead; command

Those women also to your help; then cleanse

With bibulous sponges and with water all

The seats and tables; when ye shall have thus          510

Set all in order, lead those women forth,

And in the centre of the spacious court,

Between the scull’ry and the outer-wall

Smite them with your broad faulchions till they lose

In death the mem’ry of their secret loves

Indulged with wretches lawless as themselves.

He ended, and the damsels came at once

All forth, lamenting, and with tepid tears

Show’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,

Bearing the bodies forth into the court,          520

They lodged them in the portico; meantime

Ulysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urged

By sad necessity, they bore all out.

With sponges and with water, next, they cleansed

The thrones and tables, while Telemachus

Beesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that work

Aiding him and the keeper of the beeves,

And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.

Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,

Led forth the women, whom they shut between          530

The scull’ry and the outer-wall in close

Durance, from which no pris’ner could escape,

And thus Telemachus discrete began.

An honourable death is not for these

By my advice, who have so often heap’d

Reproach on mine and on my mother’s head,

And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.

He said, and noosing a strong galley-rope

To an huge column, led the cord around

The spacious dome, suspended so aloft          540

That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.

As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,

Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the net

Within, ill rest, entangled, there they find,

So they, suspended by the neck, expired

All in one line together. Death abhorr’d!

With restless feet awhile they beat the air,

Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hall

They led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steel

They pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth          550

His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,

And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.

Then, laving each his feet and hands, they sought

Again Ulysses; all their work was done,

And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.

Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!

That I may fumigate my walls; then bid

Penelope with her attendants down,

And summon all the women of her train.

But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied.          560

My son! thou hast well said; yet will I first

Serve thee with vest and mantle. Stand not here

In thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foul

And beggarly—she will abhor the sight.

Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.

Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.

He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurse

Longer delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,

When he with purifying steams, himself,

Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room,          570

The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantime

His house magnificent, the matron call’d

The women to attend their Lord in haste,

And they attended, bearing each a torch.

Then gather’d they around him all, sincere

Welcoming his return; with close embrace

Enfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and each

His shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.

He, irresistible the impulse felt

To sigh and weep, well recognizing all.          580

[103] If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of this ορτοθυρη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.

[104] At which Ulysses stood.

[105] The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.

[106] In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (for νεφεα is used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them. See Eustathius Dacier. Clarke.

[107] So called because he was worshipped within the Ἐρκος or wall that surrounded the court.

end chapter

BOOK XXIII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses with some difficulty, convinces Penelope of his identity, who at length, overcome by force of evidence, receives him to her arms with transport. He entertains her with a recital of his adventures, and in his narration the principal events of the poem are recapitulated. In the morning, Ulysses, Telemachus, the herdsman and the swine-herd depart into the country.

And now, with exultation loud the nurse

Again ascended, eager to apprize

The Queen of her Ulysses’ safe return;

Joy braced her knees, with nimbleness of youth

She stepp’d, and at her ear, her thus bespake.

Arise, Penelope! dear daughter, see

With thy own eyes thy daily wish fulfill’d.

Ulysses is arrived; hath reach’d at last

His native home, and all those suitors proud

Hath slaughter’d, who his family distress’d,          10

His substance wasted, and controul’d his son.

To whom Penelope discrete replied.

Dear nurse! the Gods have surely ta’en away

Thy judgment; they transform the wise to fools,

And fools conduct to wisdom, and have marr’d

Thy intellect, who wast discrete before.

Why wilt thou mock me, wretched as I am,

With tales extravagant? and why disturb

Those slumbers sweet that seal’d so fast mine eyes?

For such sweet slumbers have I never known          20

Since my Ulysses on his voyage sail’d

To that bad city never to be named.

Down instant to thy place again—begone—

For had another of my maidens dared

Disturb my sleep with tidings wild as these,

I had dismiss’d her down into the house

More roughly; but thine age excuses thee.

To whom the venerable matron thus.

I mock thee not, my child; no—he is come—

Himself, Ulysses, even as I say,          30

That stranger, object of the scorn of all.

Telemachus well knew his sire arrived,

But prudently conceal’d the tidings, so

To insure the more the suitors’ punishment.

So Euryclea she transported heard,

And springing from the bed, wrapp’d in her arms

The ancient woman shedding tears of joy,

And in wing’d accents ardent thus replied.

Ah then, dear nurse inform me! tell me true!

Hath he indeed arriv’d as thou declar’st?          40

How dared he to assail alone that band

Of shameless ones, for ever swarming here?

Then Euryclea, thus, matron belov’d.

I nothing saw or knew; but only heard

Groans of the wounded; in th’ interior house

We trembling sat, and ev’ry door was fast.

Thus all remain’d till by his father sent,

Thy own son call’d me forth. Going, I found

Ulysses compass’d by the slaughter’d dead.

They cover’d wide the pavement, heaps on heaps.          50

It would have cheer’d thy heart to have beheld

Thy husband lion-like with crimson stains

Of slaughter and of dust all dappled o’er;

Heap’d in the portal, at this moment, lie

Their bodies, and he fumigates, meantime,

The house with sulphur and with flames of fire,

And hath, himself, sent me to bid thee down.

Follow me, then, that ye may give your hearts

To gladness, both, for ye have much endured;

But the event, so long your soul’s desire,          60

Is come; himself hath to his household Gods

Alive return’d, thee and his son he finds

Unharm’d and at your home, nor hath he left

Unpunish’d one of all his enemies.

Her answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.

Ah dearest nurse! indulge not to excess

This dang’rous triumph. Thou art well apprized

How welcome his appearance here would prove

To all, but chief, to me, and to his son,

Fruit of our love. But these things are not so;          70

Some God, resentful of their evil deeds,

And of their biting contumely severe,

Hath slain those proud; for whether noble guest

Arrived or base, alike they scoff’d at all,

And for their wickedness have therefore died.

But my Ulysses distant far, I know,

From Greece hath perish’d, and returns no more.

To whom thus Euryclea, nurse belov’d.

What word my daughter had escaped thy lips,

Who thus affirm’st thy husband, now within          80

And at his own hearth-side, for ever lost?

Canst thou be thus incredulous? Hear again—

I give thee yet proof past dispute, his scar

Imprinted by a wild-boar’s iv’ry tusk.

Laving him I remark’d it, and desired,

Myself, to tell thee, but he, ever-wise,

Compressing with both hands my lips, forbad.

Come, follow me. My life shall be the pledge.

If I deceive thee, kill me as thou wilt.

To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.          90

Ah, dearest nurse, sagacious as thou art,

Thou little know’st to scan the counsels wise

Of the eternal Gods. But let us seek

My son, however, that I may behold

The suitors dead, and him by whom they died.

So saying, she left her chamber, musing much

In her descent, whether to interrogate

Her Lord apart, or whether to imprint,

At once, his hands with kisses and his brows.

O’erpassing light the portal-step of stone          100

She enter’d. He sat opposite, illumed

By the hearth’s sprightly blaze, and close before

A pillar of the dome, waiting with eyes

Downcast, till viewing him, his noble spouse

Should speak to him; but she sat silent long,

Her faculties in mute amazement held.

By turns she riveted her eyes on his,

And, seeing him so foul attired, by turns

She recognized him not; then spake her son

Telemachus, and her silence thus reprov’d.          110

My mother! ah my hapless and my most

Obdurate mother! wherefore thus aloof

Shunn’st thou my father, neither at his side

Sitting affectionate, nor utt’ring word?

Another wife lives not who could endure

Such distance from her husband new-return’d

To his own country in the twentieth year,

After much hardship; but thy heart is still

As ever, less impressible than stone,

To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.          120

I am all wonder, O my son; my soul

Is stunn’d within me; pow’r to speak to him

Or to interrogate him have I none,

Or ev’n to look on him; but if indeed

He be Ulysses, and have reach’d his home,

I shall believe it soon, by proof convinced

Of signs known only to himself and me.

She said; then smiled the Hero toil-inured,

And in wing’d accents thus spake to his son.

Leave thou, Telemachus, thy mother here          130

To sift and prove me; she will know me soon

More certainly; she sees me ill-attired

And squalid now; therefore she shews me scorn,

And no belief hath yet that I am he.

But we have need, thou and myself, of deep

Deliberation. If a man have slain

One only citizen, who leaves behind

Few interested to avenge his death,

Yet, flying, he forsakes both friends and home;

But we have slain the noblest Princes far          140

Of Ithaca, on whom our city most

Depended; therefore, I advise thee, think!

Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus.

Be that thy care, my father! for report

Proclaims thee shrewdest of mankind, with whom

In ingenuity may none compare.

Lead thou; to follow thee shall be our part

With prompt alacrity; nor shall, I judge,

Courage be wanting to our utmost force.

Thus then replied Ulysses, ever-wise.          150

To me the safest counsel and the best

Seems this. First wash yourselves, and put ye on

Your tunics; bid ye, next, the maidens take

Their best attire, and let the bard divine

Harping melodious play a sportive dance,

That, whether passenger or neighbour near,

All may imagine nuptials held within.

So shall not loud report that we have slain

All those, alarm the city, till we gain

Our woods and fields, where, once arriv’d, such plans          160

We will devise, as Jove shall deign to inspire.

He spake, and all, obedient, in the bath

First laved themselves, then put their tunics on;

The damsels also dress’d, and the sweet bard,

Harping melodious, kindled strong desire

In all, of jocund song and graceful dance.

The palace under all its vaulted roof

Remurmur’d to the feet of sportive youths

And cinctured maidens, while no few abroad,

Hearing such revelry within, remark’d—          170

The Queen with many wooers, weds at last.

Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail

Always to keep inviolate the house

Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.

So spake the people; but they little knew

What had befall’n. Eurynome, meantime,

With bath and unction serv’d the illustrious Chief

Ulysses, and he saw himself attired

Royally once again in his own house.

Then, Pallas over all his features shed          180

Superior beauty, dignified his form

With added amplitude, and pour’d his curls

Like hyacinthine flow’rs down from his brows.

As when some artist by Minerva made

And Vulcan, wise to execute all tasks

Ingenious, borders silver with a wreath

Of gold, accomplishing a graceful work,

Such grace the Goddess o’er his ample chest

Copious diffused, and o’er his manly brows.

He, godlike, stepping from the bath, resumed          190

His former seat magnificent, and sat

Opposite to the Queen, to whom he said.

Penelope! the Gods to thee have giv’n

Of all thy sex, the most obdurate heart.

Another wife lives not who could endure

Such distance from her husband new-return’d

To his own country in the twentieth year,

After such hardship. But prepare me, nurse,

A bed, for solitary I must sleep,

Since she is iron, and feels not for me.          200

Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.

I neither magnify thee, sir! nor yet

Depreciate thee, nor is my wonder such

As hurries me at once into thy arms,

Though my remembrance perfectly retains,

Such as he was, Ulysses, when he sail’d

On board his bark from Ithaca—Go, nurse,

Prepare his bed, but not within the walls

Of his own chamber built with his own hands.

Spread it without, and spread it well with warm          210

Mantles, with fleeces, and with richest rugs.

So spake she, proving him,[108] and not untouch’d

With anger at that word, thus he replied.

Penelope, that order grates my ear.

Who hath displaced my bed? The task were hard

E’en to an artist; other than a God

None might with ease remove it; as for man,

It might defy the stoutest in his prime

Of youth, to heave it to a different spot.

For in that bed elaborate, a sign,          220

A special sign consists; I was myself

The artificer; I fashion’d it alone.

Within the court a leafy olive grew

Lofty, luxuriant, pillar-like in girth.

Around this tree I built, with massy stones

Cemented close, my chamber, roof’d it o’er,

And hung the glutinated portals on.

I lopp’d the ample foliage and the boughs,

And sev’ring near the root its solid bole,

Smooth’d all the rugged stump with skilful hand,          230

And wrought it to a pedestal well squared

And modell’d by the line. I wimbled, next,

The frame throughout, and from the olive-stump

Beginning, fashion’d the whole bed above

Till all was finish’d, plated o’er with gold,

With silver, and with ivory, and beneath

Close interlaced with purple cordage strong.

Such sign I give thee. But if still it stand

Unmoved, or if some other, sev’ring sheer

The olive from its bottom, have displaced          240

My bed—that matter is best known to thee.

He ceas’d; she, conscious of the sign so plain

Giv’n by Ulysses, heard with flutt’ring heart

And fault’ring knees that proof. Weeping she ran

Direct toward him, threw her arms around

The Hero, kiss’d his forehead, and replied.

Ah my Ulysses! pardon me—frown not—

Thou, who at other times hast ever shewn

Superior wisdom! all our griefs have flow’d

From the Gods’ will; they envied us the bliss          250

Of undivided union sweet enjoy’d

Through life, from early youth to latest age.

No. Be not angry now; pardon the fault

That I embraced thee not as soon as seen,

For horror hath not ceased to overwhelm

My soul, lest some false alien should, perchance,

Beguile me, for our house draws num’rous such.

Jove’s daughter, Argive Helen, ne’er had given

Free entertainment to a stranger’s love,

Had she foreknown that the heroic sons          260

Of Greece would bring her to her home again.

But heav’n incited her to that offence,

Who never, else, had even in her thought

Harbour’d the foul enormity, from which

Originated even our distress.

But now, since evident thou hast described

Our bed, which never mortal yet beheld,

Ourselves except and Actoris my own

Attendant, giv’n me when I left my home

By good Icarius, and who kept the door,          270

Though hard to be convinced, at last I yield.

So saying, she awaken’d in his soul

Pity and grief; and folding in his arms

His blameless consort beautiful, he wept.

Welcome as land appears to those who swim,

Whose gallant bark Neptune with rolling waves

And stormy winds hath sunk in the wide sea,

A mariner or two, perchance, escape

The foamy flood, and, swimming, reach the land,

Weary indeed, and with incrusted brine          280

All rough, but oh, how glad to climb the coast!

So welcome in her eyes Ulysses seem’d,

Around whose neck winding her snowy arms,

She clung as she would loose him never more.

Thus had they wept till rosy-finger’d morn

Had found them weeping, but Minerva check’d

Night’s almost finish’d course, and held, meantime,

The golden dawn close pris’ner in the Deep,

Forbidding her to lead her coursers forth,

Lampus and Phaëton that furnish light          290

To all the earth, and join them to the yoke.

Then thus, Ulysses to Penelope.

My love; we have not yet attain’d the close

Of all our sufferings, but unmeasured toil

Arduous remains, which I must still atchieve.

For so the spirit of the Theban seer

Inform’d me, on that day, when to enquire

Of mine and of my people’s safe return

I journey’d down to Pluto’s drear abode.

But let us hence to bed, there to enjoy          300

Tranquil repose. My love, make no delay.

Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.

Thou shalt to bed at whatsoever time

Thy soul desires, since the immortal Gods

Give thee to me and to thy home again.

But, thou hast spoken from the seer of Thebes

Of arduous toils yet unperform’d; declare

What toils? Thou wilt disclose them, as I judge,

Hereafter, and why not disclose them now?

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.          310

Ah conversant with woe! why would’st thou learn

That tale? but I will tell it thee at large.

Thou wilt not hear with joy, nor shall myself

With joy rehearse it; for he bade me seek

City after city, bearing, as I go,

A shapely oar, till I shall find, at length,

A people who the sea know not, nor eat

Food salted; they trim galley crimson-prow’d

Have ne’er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar

With which the vessel wing’d scuds o’er the waves.          320

He gave me also this authentic sign,

Which I will tell thee. In what place soe’er

I chance to meet a trav’ler who shall name

The oar on my broad shoulder borne, a van;[109]

He bade me, planting it on the same spot,

Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,

A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek

My home again, and sacrifice at home

An hecatomb to the immortal Gods

Inhabitants of the expanse above.          330

So shall I die, at length, the gentlest death

Remote from Ocean; it shall find me late,

In soft serenity of age, the Chief

Of a blest people.—Thus he prophesied.

Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.

If heav’n appoint thee in old age a lot

More tranquil, hope thence springs of thy escape

Some future day from all thy threaten’d woes.

Such was their mutual conf’rence sweet; meantime

Eurynome and Euryclea dress’d          340

Their bed by light of the clear torch, and when

Dispatchful they had spread it broad and deep,

The ancient nurse to her own bed retired.

Then came Eurynome, to whom in trust

The chambers appertain’d, and with a torch

Conducted them to rest; she introduced

The happy pair, and went; transported they

To rites connubial intermitted long,

And now recover’d, gave themselves again.[110]

Meantime, the Prince, the herdsman, and the good          350

Eumæus, giving rest each to his feet,

Ceased from the dance; they made the women cease

Also, and to their sev’ral chambers all

Within the twilight edifice repair’d.

At length, with conjugal endearment both

Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse

The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed,

Noblest of women, all her num’rous woes

Beneath that roof sustain’d, while she beheld

The profligacy of the suitor-throng,          360

Who in their wooing had consumed his herds

And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry;

While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her

Related his successes and escapes,

And his afflictions also; he told her all;

She listen’d charm’d, nor slumber on his eyes

Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole.

Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first

He conquer’d in Ciconia, and thence reach’d

The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi;          370

The Cyclops’ deeds he told her next, and how

He well avenged on him his slaughter’d friends

Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour’d.

How to the isle of Æolus he came,

Who welcom’d him and safe dismiss’d him thence,

Although not destin’d to regain so soon

His native land; for o’er the fishy deep

Loud tempests snatch’d him sighing back again.

How, also at Telepylus he arrived,

Town of the Læstrygonians, who destroyed          380

His ships with all their mariners, his own

Except, who in his sable bark escaped.

Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill’d

In various artifice, and how he reach’d

With sails and oars the squalid realms of death,

Desirous to consult the prophet there

Theban Tiresias, and how there he view’d

All his companions, and the mother bland

Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years.

How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain          390

All chiming sweet, and how he reach’d the rocks

Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire,

Which none secure from injury may pass.

Then, how the partners of his voyage slew

The Sun’s own beeves, and how the Thund’rer Jove

Hurl’d down his smoky bolts into his bark,

Depriving him at once of all his crew,

Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped.

How to Ogygia’s isle he came, where dwelt

The nymph Calypso, who, enamour’d, wish’d          400

To espouse him, and within her spacious grot

Detain’d, and fed, and promis’d him a life

Exempt for ever from the sap of age,

But him moved not. How, also, he arrived

After much toil, on the Phæacian coast,

Where ev’ry heart revered him as a God,

And whence, enriching him with brass and gold,

And costly raiment first, they sent him home.

At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet

Fell on him, dissipating all his cares.          410

Meantime, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,

On other thoughts intent, soon as she deem’d

Ulysses with connubial joys sufficed,

And with sweet sleep, at once from Ocean rous’d

The golden-axled chariot of the morn

To illumine earth. Then from his fleecy couch

The Hero sprang, and thus his spouse enjoined.

Oh consort dear! already we have striv’n

Against our lot, till wearied with the toil,

My painful absence, thou with ceaseless tears          420

Deploring, and myself in deep distress

Withheld reluctant from my native shores

By Jove and by the other pow’rs of heav’n.

But since we have in this delightful bed

Met once again, watch thou and keep secure

All my domestic treasures, and ere long

I will replace my num’rous sheep destroy’d

By those imperious suitors, and the Greeks

Shall add yet others till my folds be fill’d.

But to the woodlands go I now—to see          430

My noble father, who for my sake mourns

Continual; as for thee, my love, although

I know thee wise, I give thee thus in charge.

The sun no sooner shall ascend, than fame

Shall wide divulge the deed that I have done,

Slaying the suitors under my own roof.

Thou, therefore, with thy maidens, sit retired

In thy own chamber at the palace-top,

Nor question ask, nor, curious, look abroad.

He said, and cov’ring with his radiant arms          440

His shoulders, called Telemachus; he roused

Eumæus and the herdsman too, and bade

All take their martial weapons in their hand.

Not disobedient they, as he enjoin’d,

Put armour on, and issued from the gates

Ulysses at their head. The earth was now

Enlighten’d, but Minerva them in haste

Led forth into the fields, unseen by all.

[108] The proof consisted in this—that the bed being attached to the stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable, and Ulysses having made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the impossibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses; accordingly, this demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples.

[109] See the note on the same passage, Book XI.

[110] Aristophanes the grammarian and Aristarchus chose that the Odyssey should end here; but the story is not properly concluded till the tumult occasioned by the slaughter of so many Princes being composed, Ulysses finds himself once more in peaceful possession of his country.

end chapter

BOOK XXIV

ARGUMENT

Mercury conducts the souls of the suitors down to Ades. Ulysses discovers himself to Laertes, and quells, by the aid of Minerva, an insurrection of the people resenting the death of the suitors.

And now Cyllenian Hermes summon’d forth

The spirits of the suitors; waving wide

The golden wand of pow’r to seal all eyes

In slumber, and to ope them wide again,

He drove them gibb’ring down into the shades,[111]

As when the bats within some hallow’d cave

Flit squeaking all around, for if but one

Fall from the rock, the rest all follow him,

In such connexion mutual they adhere,

So, after bounteous Mercury, the ghosts,          10

Troop’d downward gibb’ring all the dreary way.[111]

The Ocean’s flood and the Leucadian rock,

The Sun’s gate also and the land of Dreams

They pass’d, whence, next, into the meads they came

Of Asphodel, by shadowy forms possess’d,

Simulars of the dead. They found the souls

Of brave Pelides there, and of his friend

Patroclus, of Antilochus renown’d,

And of the mightier Ajax, for his form

And bulk (Achilles sole except) of all          20

The sons of the Achaians most admired.

These waited on Achilles. Then, appear’d

The mournful ghost of Agamemnon, son

Of Atreus, compass’d by the ghosts of all

Who shared his fate beneath Ægisthus’ roof,

And him the ghost of Peleus’ son bespake.

Atrides! of all Heroes we esteem’d

Thee dearest to the Gods, for that thy sway

Extended over such a glorious host

At Ilium, scene of sorrow to the Greeks.          30

But Fate, whose ruthless force none may escape

Of all who breathe, pursued thee from the first.

Thou should’st have perish’d full of honour, full

Of royalty, at Troy; so all the Greeks

Had rais’d thy tomb, and thou hadst then bequeath’d

Great glory to thy son; but Fate ordain’d

A death, oh how deplorable! for thee.

To whom Atrides’ spirit thus replied.

Blest son of Peleus, semblance of the Gods,

At Ilium, far from Argos, fall’n! for whom          40

Contending, many a Trojan, many a Chief

Of Greece died also, while in eddies whelm’d

Of dust thy vastness spread the plain,[112] nor thee

The chariot aught or steed could int’rest more!

All day we waged the battle, nor at last

Desisted, but for tempests sent from Jove.

At length we bore into the Greecian fleet

Thy body from the field; there, first, we cleansed

With tepid baths and oil’d thy shapely corse,

Then placed thee on thy bier, while many a Greek          50

Around thee wept, and shore his locks for thee.

Thy mother, also, hearing of thy death

With her immortal nymphs from the abyss

Arose and came; terrible was the sound

On the salt flood; a panic seized the Greeks,

And ev’ry warrior had return’d on board

That moment, had not Nestor, ancient Chief,

Illumed by long experience, interposed,

His counsels, ever wisest, wisest proved

Then also, and he thus address’d the host.          60

Sons of Achaia; fly not; stay, ye Greeks!

Thetis arrives with her immortal nymphs

From the abyss, to visit her dead son.

So he; and, by his admonition stay’d,

The Greeks fled not. Then, all around thee stood

The daughters of the Ancient of the Deep,

Mourning disconsolate; with heav’nly robes

They clothed thy corse, and all the Muses nine

Deplored thee in full choir with sweetest tones

Responsive, nor one Greecian hadst thou seen          70

Dry-eyed, such grief the Muses moved in all.

Full sev’nteen days we, day and night, deplored

Thy death, both Gods in heav’n and men below,

But, on the eighteenth day, we gave thy corse

Its burning, and fat sheep around thee slew

Num’rous, with many a pastur’d ox moon-horn’d.

We burn’d thee clothed in vesture of the Gods,

With honey and with oil feeding the flames

Abundant, while Achaia’s Heroes arm’d,

Both horse and foot, encompassing thy pile,          80

Clash’d on their shields, and deaf’ning was the din.

But when the fires of Vulcan had at length

Consumed thee, at the dawn we stored thy bones

In unguent and in undiluted wine;

For Thetis gave to us a golden vase

Twin-ear’d, which she profess’d to have received

From Bacchus, work divine of Vulcan’s hand.

Within that vase, Achilles, treasured lie

Thine and the bones of thy departed friend

Patroclus, but a sep’rate urn we gave          90

To those of brave Antilochus, who most

Of all thy friends at Ilium shared thy love

And thy respect, thy friend Patroclus slain.

Around both urns we piled a noble tomb,

(We warriors of the sacred Argive host)

On a tall promontory shooting far

Into the spacious Hellespont, that all

Who live, and who shall yet be born, may view

Thy record, even from the distant waves.

Then, by permission from the Gods obtain’d,          100

To the Achaian Chiefs in circus met

Thetis appointed games. I have beheld

The burial rites of many an Hero bold,

When, on the death of some great Chief, the youths

Girding their loins anticipate the prize,

But sight of those with wonder fill’d me most,

So glorious past all others were the games

By silver-footed Thetis giv’n for thee,

For thou wast ever favour’d of the Gods.

Thus, hast thou not, Achilles! although dead,          110

Foregone thy glory, but thy fair report

Is universal among all mankind;

But, as for me, what recompense had I,

My warfare closed? for whom, at my return,

Jove framed such dire destruction by the hands

Of fell Ægisthus and my murth’ress wife.

Thus, mutual, they conferr’d; meantime approach’d,

Swift messenger of heav’n, the Argicide,

Conducting thither all the shades of those

Slain by Ulysses. At that sight amazed          120

Both moved toward them. Agamemnon’s shade

Knew well Amphimedon, for he had been

Erewhile his father’s guest in Ithaca,

And thus the spirit of Atreus’ son began.

Amphimedon! by what disastrous chance,

Coœvals as ye seem, and of an air

Distinguish’d all, descend ye to the Deeps?

For not the chosen youths of a whole town

Should form a nobler band. Perish’d ye sunk

Amid vast billows and rude tempests raised          130

By Neptune’s pow’r? or on dry land through force

Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off

Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away?

Or fighting for your city and your wives?

Resolve me? I was once a guest of yours.

Remember’st not what time at your abode

With godlike Menelaus I arrived,

That we might win Ulysses with his fleet

To follow us to Troy? scarce we prevail’d

At last to gain the city-waster Chief,          140

And, after all, consumed a whole month more

The wide sea traversing from side to side.

To whom the spirit of Amphimedon.

Illustrious Agamemnon, King of men!

All this I bear in mind, and will rehearse

The manner of our most disastrous end.

Believing brave Ulysses lost, we woo’d

Meantime his wife; she our detested suit

Would neither ratify nor yet refuse,

But, planning for us a tremendous death,          150

This novel stratagem, at last, devised.

Beginning, in her own recess, a web

Of slend’rest thread, and of a length and breadth

Unusual, thus the suitors she address’d.

Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief

Ulysses is no more, enforce not yet

My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first

A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)

Which for the ancient Hero I prepare,

Laertes, looking for the mournful hour          160

When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;

Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,

Should he so wealthy, want at last a shroud.

So spake the Queen; we, unsuspicious all,

With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day

She wove the ample web, and by the aid

Of torches ravell’d it again at night.

Three years she thus by artifice our suit

Eluded safe, but when the fourth arrived,

And the same season, after many moons          170

And fleeting days, return’d, a damsel then

Of her attendants, conscious of the fraud,

Reveal’d it, and we found her pulling loose

The splendid web. Thus, through constraint, at length,

She finish’d it, and in her own despight.

But when the Queen produced, at length, her work

Finish’d, new-blanch’d, bright as the sun or moon,

Then came Ulysses, by some adverse God

Conducted, to a cottage on the verge

Of his own fields, in which his swine-herd dwells;          180

There also the illustrious Hero’s son

Arrived soon after, in his sable bark

From sandy Pylus borne; they, plotting both

A dreadful death for all the suitors, sought

Our glorious city, but Ulysses last,

And first Telemachus. The father came

Conducted by his swine-herd, and attired

In tatters foul; a mendicant he seem’d,

Time-worn, and halted on a staff. So clad,

And ent’ring on the sudden, he escaped          190

All knowledge even of our eldest there,

And we reviled and smote him; he although

Beneath his own roof smitten and reproach’d,

With patience suffer’d it awhile, but roused

By inspiration of Jove Ægis-arm’d

At length, in concert with his son convey’d

To his own chamber his resplendent arms,

There lodg’d them safe, and barr’d the massy doors

Then, in his subtlety he bade the Queen

A contest institute with bow and rings          200

Between the hapless suitors, whence ensued

Slaughter to all. No suitor there had pow’r

To overcome the stubborn bow that mock’d

All our attempts; and when the weapon huge

At length was offer’d to Ulysses’ hands,

With clamour’d menaces we bade the swain

Withhold it from him, plead he as he might;

Telemachus alone with loud command,

Bade give it him, and the illustrious Chief

Receiving in his hand the bow, with ease          210

Bent it, and sped a shaft through all the rings.

Then, springing to the portal steps, he pour’d

The arrows forth, peer’d terrible around,

Pierced King Antinoüs, and, aiming sure

His deadly darts, pierced others after him,

Till in one common carnage heap’d we lay.

Some God, as plain appear’d, vouchsafed them aid,

Such ardour urged them, and with such dispatch

They slew us on all sides; hideous were heard

The groans of dying men fell’d to the earth          220

With head-strokes rude, and the floor swam with blood.

Such, royal Agamemnon! was the fate

By which we perish’d, all whose bodies lie

Unburied still, and in Ulysses’ house,

For tidings none have yet our friends alarm’d

And kindred, who might cleanse from sable gore

Our clotted wounds, and mourn us on the bier,

Which are the rightful privilege of the dead.

Him answer’d, then, the shade of Atreus’ son.

Oh happy offspring of Laertes! shrewd          230

Ulysses! matchless valour thou hast shewn

Recov’ring thus thy wife; nor less appears

The virtue of Icarius’ daughter wise,

The chaste Penelope, so faithful found

To her Ulysses, husband of her youth.

His glory, by superior merit earn’d,

Shall never die, and the immortal Gods

Shall make Penelope a theme of song

Delightful in the ears of all mankind.

Not such was Clytemnestra, daughter vile          240

Of Tyndarus; she shed her husband’s blood,

And shall be chronicled in song a wife

Of hateful memory, by whose offence

Even the virtuous of her sex are shamed.

Thus they, beneath the vaulted roof obscure

Of Pluto’s house, conferring mutual stood.

Meantime, descending from the city-gates,

Ulysses, by his son and by his swains

Follow’d, arrived at the delightful farm

Which old Laertes had with strenuous toil          250

Himself long since acquired. There stood his house

Encompass’d by a bow’r in which the hinds

Who served and pleased him, ate, and sat, and slept.

An ancient woman, a Sicilian, dwelt

There also, who in that sequester’d spot

Attended diligent her aged Lord.

Then thus Ulysses to his followers spake.

Haste now, and, ent’ring, slay ye of the swine

The best for our regale; myself, the while,

Will prove my father, if his eye hath still          260

Discernment of me, or if absence long

Have worn the knowledge of me from his mind.

He said, and gave into his servants’ care

His arms; they swift proceeded to the house,

And to the fruitful grove himself as swift

To prove his father. Down he went at once

Into the spacious garden-plot, but found

Nor Dolius there, nor any of his sons

Or servants; they were occupied elsewhere,

And, with the ancient hind himself, employ’d          270

Collecting thorns with which to fence the grove.

In that umbrageous spot he found alone

Laertes, with his hoe clearing a plant;

Sordid his tunic was, with many a patch

Mended unseemly; leathern were his greaves,

Thong-tied and also patch’d, a frail defence

Against sharp thorns, while gloves secured his hands

From briar-points, and on his head he bore

A goat-skin casque, nourishing hopeless woe.

No sooner then the Hero toil-inured          280

Saw him age-worn and wretched, than he paused

Beneath a lofty pear-tree’s shade to weep.

There standing much he mused, whether, at once,

Kissing and clasping in his arms his sire,

To tell him all, by what means he had reach’d

His native country, or to prove him first.

At length, he chose as his best course, with words

Of seeming strangeness to accost his ear,

And, with that purpose, moved direct toward him.

He, stooping low, loosen’d the earth around          290

A garden-plant, when his illustrious son

Now, standing close beside him, thus began.

Old sir! thou art no novice in these toils

Of culture, but thy garden thrives; I mark

In all thy ground no plant, fig, olive, vine,

Pear-tree or flow’r-bed suff’ring through neglect.

But let it not offend thee if I say

That thou neglect’st thyself, at the same time

Oppress’d with age, sun-parch’d and ill-attired.

Not for thy inactivity, methinks,          300

Thy master slights thee thus, nor speaks thy form

Or thy surpassing stature servile aught

In thee, but thou resemblest more a King.

Yes—thou resemblest one who, bathed and fed,

Should softly sleep; such is the claim of age.

But tell me true—for whom labourest thou,

And whose this garden? answer me beside,

For I would learn; have I indeed arrived

In Ithaca, as one whom here I met

Ev’n now assured me, but who seem’d a man          310

Not overwise, refusing both to hear

My questions, and to answer when I ask’d

Concerning one in other days my guest

And friend, if he have still his being here,

Or have deceas’d and journey’d to the shades.

For I will tell thee; therefore mark. Long since

A stranger reach’d my house in my own land,

Whom I with hospitality receiv’d,

Nor ever sojourn’d foreigner with me

Whom I lov’d more. He was by birth, he said,          320

Ithacan, and Laertes claim’d his sire,

Son of Arcesias. Introducing him

Beneath my roof, I entertain’d him well,

And proved by gifts his welcome at my board.

I gave him seven talents of wrought gold,

A goblet, argent all, with flow’rs emboss’d,

Twelve single cloaks, twelve carpets, mantles twelve

Of brightest lustre, with as many vests,

And added four fair damsels, whom he chose

Himself, well born and well accomplish’d all.          330

Then thus his ancient sire weeping replied.

Stranger! thou hast in truth attain’d the isle

Of thy enquiry, but it is possess’d

By a rude race, and lawless. Vain, alas!

Were all thy num’rous gifts; yet hadst thou found

Him living here in Ithaca, with gifts

Reciprocated he had sent thee hence,

Requiting honourably in his turn

Thy hospitality. But give me quick

Answer and true. How many have been the years          340

Since thy reception of that hapless guest

My son? for mine, my own dear son was he.

But him, far distant both from friends and home,

Either the fishes of the unknown Deep

Have eaten, or wild beasts and fowls of prey,

Nor I, or she who bare him, was ordain’d

To bathe his shrouded body with our tears,

Nor his chaste wife, well-dow’r’d Penelope

To close her husband’s eyes, and to deplore

His doom, which is the privilege of the dead.          350

But tell me also thou, for I would learn,

Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?

The bark in which thou and thy godlike friends

Arrived, where is she anchor’d on our coast?

Or cam’st thou only passenger on board

Another’s bark, who landed thee and went?

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

I will with all simplicity relate

What thou hast ask’d. Of Alybas am I,

Where in much state I dwell, son of the rich          360

Apheidas royal Polypemon’s son,

And I am named Eperitus; by storms

Driven from Sicily I have arrived,

And yonder, on the margin of the field

That skirts your city, I have moor’d my bark.

Five years have pass’d since thy Ulysses left,

Unhappy Chief! my country; yet the birds

At his departure hovered on the right,

And in that sign rejoicing, I dismiss’d

Him thence rejoicing also, for we hoped          370

To mix in social intercourse again,

And to exchange once more pledges of love.

He spake; then sorrow as a sable cloud

Involved Laertes; gath’ring with both hands

The dust, he pour’d it on his rev’rend head

With many a piteous groan. Ulysses’ heart

Commotion felt, and his stretch’d nostrils throbb’d

With agony close-pent, while fixt he eyed

His father; with a sudden force he sprang

Toward him, clasp’d, and kiss’d him, and exclaim’d.          380

My father! I am he. Thou seest thy son

Absent these twenty years at last return’d.

But bid thy sorrow cease; suspend henceforth

All lamentation; for I tell thee true,

(And the occasion bids me briefly tell thee)

I have slain all the suitors at my home,

And all their taunts and injuries avenged.

Then answer thus Laertes quick return’d.

If thou hast come again, and art indeed

My son Ulysses, give me then the proof          390

Indubitable, that I may believe.

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

View, first, the scar which with his iv’ry tusk

A wild boar gave me, when at thy command

And at my mother’s, to Autolycus

Her father, on Parnassus, I repair’d

Seeking the gifts which, while a guest of yours,

He promis’d should be mine. Accept beside

This proof. I will enum’rate all the trees

Which, walking with thee in this cultured spot          400

(Boy then) I begg’d, and thou confirm’dst my own.

We paced between them, and thou mad’st me learn

The name of each. Thou gav’st me thirteen pears,[113]

Ten apples,[113] thirty figs,[113] and fifty ranks

Didst promise me of vines, their alleys all

Corn-cropp’d between. There, oft as sent from Jove

The influences of the year descend,

Grapes of all hues and flavours clust’ring hang.

He said; Laertes, conscious of the proofs

Indubitable by Ulysses giv’n,          410

With fault’ring knees and fault’ring heart both arms

Around him threw. The Hero toil-inured

Drew to his bosom close his fainting sire,

Who, breath recov’ring, and his scatter’d pow’rs

Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.

Ye Gods! oh then your residence is still

On the Olympian heights, if punishment

At last hath seized on those flagitious men.

But terrour shakes me, lest, incensed, ere long

All Ithaca flock hither, and dispatch          420

Swift messengers with these dread tidings charged

To ev’ry Cephallenian state around.

Him answer’d then Ulysses ever-wise.

Courage! fear nought, but let us to the house

Beside the garden, whither I have sent

Telemachus, the herdsman, and the good

Eumæus to prepare us quick repast.

So they conferr’d, and to Laertes’ house

Pass’d on together; there arrived, they found

Those three preparing now their plenteous feast,          430

And mingling sable wine; then, by the hands

Of his Sicilian matron, the old King

Was bathed, anointed, and attired afresh,

And Pallas, drawing nigh, dilated more

His limbs, and gave his whole majestic form

Encrease of amplitude. He left the bath.

His son, amazed as he had seen a God

Alighted newly from the skies, exclaim’d.

My father! doubtless some immortal Pow’r

Hath clothed thy form with dignity divine.          440

Then thus replied his venerable sire.

Jove! Pallas! Phœbus! oh that I possess’d

Such vigour now, as when in arms I took

Nericus, continental city fair,

With my brave Cephallenians! oh that such

And arm’d as then, I yesterday had stood

Beside thee in thy palace, combating

Those suitors proud, then had I strew’d the floor

With num’rous slain, to thy exceeding joy.

Such was their conference; and now, the task          450

Of preparation ended, and the feast

Set forth, on couches and on thrones they sat,

And, ranged in order due, took each his share.

Then, ancient Dolius, and with him, his sons

Arrived toil-worn, by the Sicilian dame

Summon’d, their cat’ress, and their father’s kind

Attendant ever in his eve of life.

They, seeing and recalling soon to mind

Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood

Wond’ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice          460

Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.

Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear

And mute amazement; for, although provoked

By appetite, we have long time abstain’d,

Expecting ev’ry moment thy return.

He said; then Dolius with expanded arms

Sprang right toward Ulysses, seized his hand,

Kiss’d it, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

Oh master ever dear! since thee the Gods

Themselves in answer to our warm desires,          470

Have, unexpectedly, at length restored,

Hail, and be happy, and heav’n make thee such!

But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen

Already thy return, or shall we send

Ourselves an herald with the joyful news?

To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.

My ancient friend, thou may’st release thy mind

From that solicitude; she knows it well.

So he; then Dolius to his glossy seat

Return’d, and all his sons gath’ring around          480

Ulysses, welcom’d him and grasp’d his hand,

Then sat beside their father; thus beneath

Laertes’ roof they, joyful, took repast.

But Fame with rapid haste the city roam’d

In ev’ry part, promulging in all ears

The suitors’ horrid fate. No sooner heard

The multitude that tale, than one and all

Groaning they met and murmuring before

Ulysses’ gates. Bringing the bodies forth,

They buried each his friend, but gave the dead          490

Of other cities to be ferried home

By fishermen on board their rapid barks.

All hasted then to council; sorrow wrung

Their hearts, and, the assembly now convened,

Arising first Eupithes spake, for grief

Sat heavy on his soul, grief for the loss

Of his Antinoüs by Ulysses slain

Foremost of all, whom mourning, thus he said.

My friends! no trivial fruits the Greecians reap

Of this man’s doings. Those he took with him          500

On board his barks, a num’rous train and bold,

Then lost his barks, lost all his num’rous train,

And these, our noblest, slew at his return.

Come therefore—ere he yet escape by flight

To Pylus or to noble Elis, realm

Of the Epeans, follow him; else shame

Attends us and indelible reproach.

If we avenge not on these men the blood

Of our own sons and brothers, farewell then

All that makes life desirable; my wish          510

Henceforth shall be to mingle with the shades.

Oh then pursue and seize them ere they fly.

Thus he with tears, and pity moved in all.

Then, Medon and the sacred bard whom sleep

Had lately left, arriving from the house

Of Laertiades, approach’d; amid

The throng they stood; all wonder’d seeing them,

And Medon, prudent senior, thus began.

Hear me, my countrymen! Ulysses plann’d

With no disapprobation of the Gods          520

The deed that ye deplore. I saw, myself,

A Pow’r immortal at the Hero’s side,

In semblance just of Mentor; now the God,

In front apparent, led him on, and now,

From side to side of all the palace, urged

To flight the suitors; heaps on heaps they fell.

He said; then terrour wan seiz’d ev’ry cheek,

And Halitherses, Hero old, the son

Of Mastor, who alone among them all

Knew past, and future, prudent, thus began.          530

Now, O ye men of Ithaca! my words

Attentive hear! by your own fault, my friends,

This deed hath been perform’d; for when myself

And noble Mentor counsell’d you to check

The sin and folly of your sons, ye would not.

Great was their wickedness, and flagrant wrong

They wrought, the wealth devouring and the wife

Dishonouring of an illustrious Chief

Whom they deem’d destined never to return.

But hear my counsel. Go not, lest ye draw          540

Disaster down and woe on your own heads.

He ended; then with boist’rous roar (although

Part kept their seats) upsprang the multitude,

For Halitherses pleased them not, they chose

Eupithes’ counsel rather; all at once

To arms they flew, and clad in dazzling brass

Before the city form’d their dense array.

Leader infatuate at their head appear’d

Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son

Antinoüs, but was himself ordain’d          550

To meet his doom, and to return no more.

Then thus Minerva to Saturnian Jove.

Oh father! son of Saturn! Jove supreme!

Declare the purpose hidden in thy breast.

Wilt thou that this hostility proceed,

Or wilt thou grant them amity again?

To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.

Why asks my daughter? didst thou not design

Thyself, that brave Ulysses coming home

Should slay those profligates? act as thou wilt,          560

But thus I counsel, since the noble Chief

Hath slain the suitors, now let peace ensue

Oath-bound, and reign Ulysses evermore!

The slaughter of their brethren and their sons

To strike from their remembrance, shall be ours.

Let mutual amity, as at the first,

Unite them, and let wealth and peace abound.

So saying, he animated to her task

Minerva prompt before, and from the heights

Olympian down to Ithaca she flew.          570

Meantime Ulysses (for their hunger now

And thirst were sated) thus address’d his hinds.

Look ye abroad, lest haply they approach.

He said, and at his word, forth went a son

Of Dolius; at the gate he stood, and thence

Beholding all that multitude at hand,

In accents wing’d thus to Ulysses spake.

They come—they are already arrived—arm all!

Then, all arising, put their armour on,

Ulysses with his three, and the six sons          580

Of Dolius; Dolius also with the rest,

Arm’d and Laertes, although silver-hair’d,

Warriors perforce. When all were clad alike

In radiant armour, throwing wide the gates

They sallied, and Ulysses led the way.

Then Jove’s own daughter Pallas, in the form

And with the voice of Mentor, came in view,

Whom seeing Laertiades rejoiced,

And thus Telemachus, his son, bespake.

Now, oh my son! thou shalt observe, untold          590

By me, where fight the bravest. Oh shame not

Thine ancestry, who have in all the earth

Proof given of valour in all ages past.

To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.

My father! if thou wish that spectacle,

Thou shalt behold thy son, as thou hast said,

In nought dishonouring his noble race.

Then was Laertes joyful, and exclaim’d,

What sun hath ris’n to-day?[114] oh blessed Gods!

My son and grandson emulous dispute          600

The prize of glory, and my soul exults.

He ended, and Minerva drawing nigh

To the old King, thus counsell’d him. Oh friend

Whom most I love, son of Arcesias! pray’r

Preferring to the virgin azure-eyed,

And to her father Jove, delay not, shake

Thy lance in air, and give it instant flight.

So saying, the Goddess nerved his arm anew.

He sought in pray’r the daughter dread of Jove,

And, brandishing it, hurl’d his lance; it struck          610

Eupithes, pierced his helmet brazen-cheek’d

That stay’d it not, but forth it sprang beyond,

And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.

Then flew Ulysses and his noble son

With faulchion and with spear of double edge

To the assault, and of them all had left

None living, none had to his home return’d,

But that Jove’s virgin daughter with a voice

Of loud authority thus quell’d them all.

Peace, O ye men of Ithaca! while yet          620

The field remains undeluged with your blood.

So she, and fear at once paled ev’ry cheek.

All trembled at the voice divine; their arms

Escaping from the grasp fell to the earth,

And, covetous of longer life, each fled

Back to the city. Then Ulysses sent

His voice abroad, and with an eagle’s force

Sprang on the people; but Saturnian Jove,

Cast down, incontinent, his smouldring bolt

At Pallas’ feet, and thus the Goddess spake.          630

Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!

Forbear; abstain from slaughter; lest thyself

Incur the anger of high thund’ring Jove.

So Pallas, whom Ulysses, glad, obey’d.

Then faithful covenants of peace between

Both sides ensued, ratified in the sight

Of Pallas progeny of Jove, who seem’d,

In voice and form, the Mentor known to all.

[111]

Τρίζουσαι—τετριγῦιαι—the ghosts

Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.

SHAKSPEARE.

[112]

—Behemoth, biggest born of earth,

Upheav’d his vastness.

MILTON.

[113] The fruit is here used for the tree that bore it, as it is in the Greek; the Latins used the same mode of expression, neither is it uncommon in our own language.

[114] Τίς νύ μοι ἡμέρη ἥδε;—So Cicero, who seems to translate it—Proh dii immortales! Quis hic illuxit dies! See Clarke in loco.

END OF THE ODYSSEY

end chapter

NOTES

NOTE I.

Bk. x. l. 101-106 (Hom. x. l. 81-86).—It is held now that this passage should be explained by the supposition that the Homeric bards had heard tales of northern latitudes, where, in summer-time, the darkness was so short that evening was followed almost at once by morning. Thus the herdsman coming home in the twilight at one day’s close might meet and hail the shepherd who was starting betimes for the next day’s work.

Line 86 in the Greek ought probably to be translated, “For the paths of night and day are close together,” i.e., the entrance of day follows hard on the entrance of night.

NOTE II.

Bk. xi. l. 162, 163 (Hom. xi. l. 134, 135).—

θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ

ἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται.

Others translate, “And from the sea shall thy own death come,” suggesting that Ulysses after all was lost at sea. This is the rendering followed by Tennyson in his poem “Ulysses” (and see Dante, Inferno, Canto xxvi.). It is a more natural translation of the Greek, and gives a far more wonderful vista for the close of the Wanderer’s life.

NOTE III.

Bk. xix. l. 712 (Hom. xix. l. 573).—The word πελέκεας, for which Cowper gives as a paraphrase “spikes, crested with a ring,” elsewhere means axes, and ought so to be translated here. For since Cowper’s day an axe-head of the Mycenæan period has been discovered with the blade pierced so as to form a hole through which an arrow could pass. (See Tsountas and Manatt, The Mycenæan Age.) Axes of this type were not known to Cowper, and hence the hypothesis in his text. He realised correctly the essential conditions of the feat proposed: the axes must have been set up, one behind the other, in the way he suggested for his ringed stakes.

NOTE IV.

Bk. xxii. l. 139-162 (Hom. xxii. l. 126-143).—How Melanthius got out of the hall remains a puzzle. Cowper assumes a second postern, but there is no evidence for this, and l. 139 ff. (l. 126 ff. in the Greek) suggest rather strongly that there was only one. Unfortunately, the crucial word ῥῶγες which occurs in the line describing Melanthius’ exit is not found elsewhere. “He went up,” the poet says, “through the ῥῶγες of the hall.” Merry suggests that “he scrambled up to the loopholes that were pierced in the wall.” Others suppose that there was a ladder at the inner end of the hall leading to the upper story, and on through passages to the armoury.

In l. 141 (l. 128 in the Greek) the word translated “street” by Cowper is usually rendered “corridor.”

F. M. S.

MADE AT THE TEMPLE PRESS LETCHWORTH GREAT BRITAIN

end chapter

EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY

A LIST OF THE 812 VOLUMES ARRANGED UNDER AUTHORS

Anonymous works are given under titles.

Anthologies, etc., are arranged at the end of the list.

- Abbott’s Rollo at Work, etc., 275

- Addison’s Spectator, 164-167

- Æschylus’ Lyrical Dramas, 62

- Æsop’s and Other Fables, 657

- Aimard’s The Indian Scout, 428

- Ainsworth’s Tower of London, 400

- ”       Old St. Paul’s, 522

- ”       Windsor Castle, 709

- ”       The Admirable Crichton, 804

- A’Kempis’ Imitation of Christ, 484

- Alcott’s Little Women, and Good Wives, 248

- ”       Little Men, 512

- Alpine Club. Peaks, Passes and Glaciers, 778

- Andersen’s Fairy Tales, 4

- Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 794

- Anson’s Voyages, 510

- Aristophanes’ The Acharnians, etc., 344

- ”       The Frogs, etc., 516

- Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, 547

- ”       Politics, 605

- Armour’s Fall of the Nibelung, 312

- Arnold’s (Matthew) Essays, 115

- ”       Poems, 334

- ”       Study of Celtic Literature, etc., 458

- Aucassin and Nicolette, 497

- Augustine’s (Saint) Confessions, 200

- Aurelius’ (Marcus) Golden Book, 9

- Austen’s (Jane) Sense and Sensibility, 21

- ”       Pride and Prejudice, 22

- ”       Mansfield Park, 23

- ”       Emma, 24

- ”       Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion, 25

- Bacon’s Essays, 10

- ”       Advancement of Learning, 719

- Bagehot’s Literary Studies, 520, 521

- Baker’s (Sir S. W.) Cast up by the Sea, 539

- Ballantyne’s Coral Island, 245

- ”       Martin Rattler, 246

- ”       Ungava, 276

- Balzac’s Wild Ass’s Skin, 26

- ”       Eugénie Grandet, 169

- ”       Old Goriot, 170

- ”       Atheist’s Mass, etc., 229

- ”       Christ in Flanders, etc., 284

- ”       The Chouans, 285

- ”       Quest of the Absolute, 286

- ”       Cat and Racket, etc., 349

- ”       Catherine de Medici, 419

- ”       Cousin Pons, 463

- ”       The Country Doctor, 520

- ”       Rise and Fall of César Birotteau, 596

- ”       Lost Illusions, 656

- ”       The Country Parson, 686

- ”       Ursule Mirouët, 733

- Barbusse’s Under Fire, 798

- Barca’s (Mme. C. de la) Life in Mexico, 664

- Bates’ Naturalist on the Amazons, 446

- Beaumont and Fletcher’s Select Plays, 506

- Beaumont’s (Mary) Joan Seaton, 597

- Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, etc., 479

- Belt’s The Naturalist in Nicaragua, 561

- Berkeley’s (Bishop) Principles of Human Knowledge, New Theory of Vision, etc., 483

- Berlioz (Hector), Life of, 602

- Binns’ Life of Abraham Lincoln, 783

- Björnson’s Plays, 625, 696

- Blackmore’s Lorna Doone, 304

- ”       Springhaven, 350

- Blackwell’s Pioneer Work for Women, 667

- Blake’s Poems and Prophecies, 792

- Boehme’s The Signature of All Things, etc., 569

- Bonaventura’s The Little Flowers, The Life of St. Francis, etc., 485

- Borrow’s Wild Wales, 49

- ”       Lavengro, 119

- ”       Romany Rye, 120

- ”       Bible in Spain, 151

- ”       Gypsies in Spain, 697

- Boswell’s Life of Johnson, 1, 2

- ”       Tour in the Hebrides, etc., 387

- Boult’s Asgard and Norse Heroes, 689

- Boyle’s The Sceptical Chymist, 559

- Bright’s (John) Speeches, 252

- Brontë’s (A.) The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, 685

- Brontë’s (C.) Jane Eyre, 287

- ”       Shirley, 288

- ”       Villette, 351

- ”       The Professor, 417

- Brontë’s (E.) Wuthering Heights, 243

- Brooke’s (Stopford A.) Theology in the English Poets, 493

- Brown’s (Dr. John) Rab and His Friends, etc., 116

- Browne’s (Frances) Grannie’s Wonderful Chair, 112

- Browne’s (Sir Thos.) Religio Medici, etc., 92

- Browning’s Poems, 1833-1844, 41

- ”          ”       1844-1864, 42

- ”       The Ring and the Book, 502

- Buchanan’s Life and Adventures of Audubon, 601

- Bulfinch’s The Age of Fable, 472

- ”       Legends of Charlemagne, 556

- Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, 204

- Burke’s American Speeches and Letters, 340

- ”       Reflections on the French Revolution, etc., 460

- Burnet’s History of His Own Times, 85

- Burney’s Evelina, 352

- Burns’ Poems and Songs, 94

- Burrell’s Volume of Heroic Verse, 574

- Burton’s East Africa, 500

- Butler’s Analogy of Religion, 90

- Buxton’s Memoirs, 773

- Byron’s Complete Poetical and Dramatic Works, 486-488

- Cæsar’s Gallic War, etc., 702

- Canton’s Child’s Book of Saints, 61

- Canton’s Invisible Playmate, etc., 566

- Carlyle’s French Revolution, 31, 32

- ”       Letters, etc., of Cromwell, 266-268

- ”       Sartor Resartus, 278

- ”       Past and Present, 608

- ”       Essays, 703, 704

- Castiglione’s The Courtier, 807

- Cellini’s Autobiography, 51

- Cervantes’ Don Quixote, 385, 386

- Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, 307

- Chrétien de Troyes’ Eric and Enid, 698

- Cibber’s Apology for his Life, 668

- Cicero’s Select Letters and Orations, 345

- Clarke’s Tales from Chaucer, 537

- ”       Shakespeare’s Heroines, 109-111

- Cobbett’s Rural Rides, 638, 639

- Coleridge’s Biographia, 11

- ”       Golden Book, 43

- ”       Lectures on Shakespeare, 162

- Collins’ Woman in White, 464

- Collodi’s Pinocchio, 538

- Converse’s Long Will, 328

- Cook’s Voyages, 99

- Cooper’s The Deerslayer, 77

- ”       The Pathfinder, 78

- ”       Last of the Mohicans, 79

- ”       The Pioneer, 171

- ”       The Prairie, 172

- Cousin’s Biographical Dictionary of English Literature, 449

- Cowper’s Letters, 774

- Cox’s Tales of Ancient Greece, 721

- Craik’s Manual of English Literature, 346

- Craik (Mrs.). See Mulock.

- Creasy’s Fifteen Decisive Battles, 300

- Crèvecœur’s Letters from an American Farmer, 640

- Curtis’s Prue and I, and Lotus, 418

- Curtis and Robinson’s Fairy Tales from the Arabian Nights, 249

- Dana’s Two Years Before the Mast, 588

- Dante’s Divine Comedy, 308

- Darwin’s Origin of Species, 811

- Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle, 104

- Dasent’s The Story of Burnt Njal, 558

- Daudet’s Tartarin of Tarascon, 423

- Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, 59

- ”       Captain Singleton, 74

- ”       Memoirs of a Cavalier, 283

- ”       Journal of Plague, 289

- De Joinville’s Memoirs of the Crusades, 333

- Demosthenes’ Select Orations, 546

- Dennis’ Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 183, 184

- De Quincey’s Lake Poets, 163

- ”       Opium-Eater, 223

- ”       English Mail Coach, etc., 609

- De Retz (Cardinal), Memoirs of, 735, 736

- Descartes’ Discourse on Method, 570

- Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge, 76

- ”       Tale of Two Cities, 102

- ”       Old Curiosity Shop, 173

- ”       Oliver Twist, 233

- ”       Great Expectations, 234

- ”       Pickwick Papers, 235

- ”       Bleak House, 236

- ”       Sketches by Boz, 237

- ”       Nicholas Nickleby, 238

- ”       Christmas Books, 239

- ”       Dombey & Son, 240

- ”       Martin Chuzzlewit, 241

- ”       David Copperfield, 242

- ”       American Notes, 290

- ”       Child’s History of England, 291

- ”       Hard Times, 292

- ”       Little Dorrit, 293

- ”       Our Mutual Friend, 294

- ”       Christmas Stories, 414

- ”       Uncommercial Traveller, 536

- ”       Edwin Drood, 725

- ”       Reprinted Pieces, 744

- Disraeli’s Coningsby, 535

- Dixon’s Fairy Tales from Arabian Nights, 249

- Dodge’s Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates, 620

- Dostoieffsky’s Crime and Punishment, 501

- ”       The House of the Dead, or Prison Life in Siberia, 533

- ”       Letters from the Underworld, etc., 654

- ”       The Idiot, 682

- ”       Poor Folk, and the Gambler, 711

- ”       The Brothers Karamazov, 802, 803

- Dowden’s Life of R. Browning, 701

- Dryden’s Dramatic Essays, 568

- Dufferin’s Letters from High Latitudes, 499

- Dumas’ The Three Musketeers, 81

- ”       The Black Tulip, 174

- ”       Twenty Years After, 175

- ”       Marguerite de Valois, 326

- ”       The Count of Monte Cristo, 393, 394

- ”       The Forty-Five, 420

- ”       Chicot the Jester, 421

- ”       Vicomte de Bragelonne, 593-595

- Dumas’ Le Chevalier de Maison Rouge, 614

- Duruy’s History of France, 737, 738

- Edgar’s Cressy and Poictiers, 17

- ”       Runnymede and Lincoln Fair, 320

- ”       Heroes of England, 471

- Edgeworth’s Castle Rackrent, etc., 410

- Edwardes and Spence’s Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632

- Eliot’s Adam Bede, 27

- ”       Silas Marner, 121

- ”       Romola, 231

- ”       Mill on the Floss, 325

- ”       Felix Holt, 353

- ”       Scenes of Clerical Life, 468

- Elizabethan Drama (Minor), 491, 492

- Elyot’s Gouernour, 227

- Emerson’s Essays, 12

- ”       Representative Men, 279

- ”       Nature, Conduct of Life, etc., 322

- ”       Society and Solitude, etc., 567

- ”       Poems, 715

- Epictetus’ Moral Discourses, etc., 404

- Erckmann-Chatrian’s The Conscript and Waterloo, 354

- ”       Story of a Peasant, 706, 707

- Euripides’ Plays, 63, 271

- Evans’ Holy Graal, 445

- Evelyn’s Diary, 220, 221

- Everyman, and Other Interludes, 381

- Ewing’s (Mrs.) Mrs. Overtheway’s Remembrances, and other Stories, 730

- ”       Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin’s Dovecot, and The Story of a Short Life, 731

- Faraday’s Experimental Researches in Electricity, 576

- Fielding’s Tom Jones, 355, 356

- ”       Joseph Andrews, 467

- Finlay’s Byzantine Empire, 33

- ”       Greece under the Romans, 185

- Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, 808

- Fletcher’s (Beaumont and) Select Plays, 506

- Ford’s Gatherings from Spain, 152

- Forster’s Life of Dickens, 781, 782

- Fox’s Journal, 754

- Fox’s Selected Speeches, 759

- Francis’ (Saint), The Little Flowers, etc., 485

- Franklin’s Journey to Polar Sea, 447

- Freeman’s Old English History for Children, 540

- Froissart’s Chronicles, 57

- Froude’s Short Studies, 13, 705

- ”       Henry VIII., 372-374

- ”       Edward VI., 375

- ”       Mary Tudor, 477

- ”       History of Queen Elizabeth’s Reign, 583-587

- ”       Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield, 666

- Gait’s Annals of the Parish, 427

- Galton’s Inquiries into Human Faculty, 263

- Gaskell’s Cranford, 83

- ”       Charlotte Bronte, 318

- ”       Sylvia’s Lovers, 524

- ”       Mary Barton, 598

- ”       Cousin Phillis, etc., 615

- ”       North and South, 680

- Gatty’s Parables from Nature, 158

- Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Histories of the Kings of Britain, 577

- George’s Progress and Poverty, 560

- Gibbon’s Roman Empire, 434-436, 474-476

- ”       Autobiography, 511

- Gilfillan’s Literary Portraits, 348

- Giraldus Cambrensis, 272

- Gleig’s Life of Wellington, 341

- ”       The Subaltern, 708

- Goethe’s Faust (Parts I. and II.), 335

- ”       Wilhelm Meister, 599, 600

- Gogol’s Dead Souls, 726

- ”       Taras Bulba, 740

- Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield, 295

- ”       Poems and Plays, 415

- Gorki’s Through Russia, 741

- Gotthelf’s Ulric the Farm Servant, 228

- Gray’s Poems and Letters, 628

- Green’s Short History of the English People, 727, 728. The cloth edition is in 2 vols. or 1 vol. All other editions are in 1 vol.

- Grettir Saga, 699

- Grimms’ Fairy Tales, 56

- Grote’s History of Greece, 186-197

- Guest’s (Lady) Mabinogion, 97

- Hahnemann’s The Organon of the Rational Art of Healing, 663

- Hakluyt’s Voyages, 264, 265, 313, 314, 338, 339, 388, 389

- Hallam’s Constitutional History, 621-623

- Hamilton’s The Federalist, 519

- Harte’s Luck of Roaring Camp, 681

- Harvey’s Circulation of Blood, 262

- Hawthorne’s Wonder Book, 5

- ”       The Scarlet Letter, 122

- ”       House of Seven Gables, 176

- ”       The Marble Faun, 424

- ”       Twice Told Tales, 531

- ”       Blithedale Romance, 592

- Hazlitt’s Shakespeare’s Characters, 65

- ”       Table Talk, 321

- ”       Lectures, 411

- ”       Spirit of the Age and Lectures on English Poets, 459

- Hebbel’s Plays, 694

- Heimskringla, 717

- Helps’ (Sir Arthur) Life of Columbus, 332

- Herbert’s Temple, 309

- Herodotus (Rawlinson’s), 405, 406

- Herrick’s Hesperides, 310

- Hobbes’ Leviathan, 691

- Holinshed’s Chronicle, 800

- Holmes’ Life of Mozart, 564

- Holmes’ (O. W.) Autocrat, 66

- ”       Professor, 67

- ”       Poet, 68

- Homer’s Iliad, 453

- ”       Odyssey, 454

- Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity, 201, 202

- Horace’s Complete Poetical Works, 515

- Houghton’s Life and Letters of Keats, 801

- Hughes’ Tom Brown’s Schooldays, 58

- Hugo’s (Victor) Les Misérables, 363, 364

- ”       Notre Dame, 422

- ”       Toilers of the Sea, 509

- Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature, etc., 548, 549

- Hutchinson’s (Col.) Memoirs, 317

- Hutchinson’s (W. M. L.) Muses’ Pageant, 581, 606, 671

- Huxley’s Man’s Place in Nature, 47

- ”       Select Lectures and Lay Sermons, 498

- Ibsen’s The Doll’s House, etc., 494

- ”       Ghosts, etc., 552

- ”       Pretenders, Pillars of Society, etc., 659

- ”       Brand, 716

- ”       Lady Inger, etc., 729

- ”       Peer Gynt, 747

- Ingelow’s Mopsa the Fairy, 619

- Ingram’s Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 624

- Irving’s Sketch Book, 117

- ”       Conquest of Granada, 478

- ”       Life of Mahomet, 513

- James’ (G. P. R.) Richelieu, 357

- James (Wm.), Selections from, 739

- Johnson’s (Dr.) Lives of the Poets, 770-771

- Johnson’s (R. B.) Book of English Ballads, 572

- Jonson’s (Ben) Plays, 489, 490

- Josephus’ Wars of the Jews, 712

- Kalidasa’s Shakuntala, 629

- Keats’ Poems, 101

- Keble’s Christian Year, 690

- King’s Life of Mazzini, 562

- Kinglake’s Eothen, 337

- Kingsley’s (Chas.) Westward Ho!, 20

- ”       Heroes, 113

- ”       Hypatia, 230

- ”       Water Babies and Glaucus, 277

- ”       Hereward the Wake, 296

- ”       Alton Locke, 462

- ”       Yeast, 611

- ”       Madam How and Lady Why, 777

- ”       Poems, 793

- Kingsley’s (Henry) Ravenshoe, 28

- ”       Geoffrey Hamlyn, 416

- Kingston’s Peter the Whaler, 6

- ”       Three Midshipmen, 7

- Kirby’s Kalevala, 259-60

- Koran, 380

- Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare, 8

- ”       Essays of Elia, 14

- ”       Letters, 342, 343

- Lane’s Modern Egyptians, 315

- Langland’s Piers Plowman, 571

- Latimer’s Sermons, 40

- Law’s Serious Call, 91

- Layamon’s (Wace and) Arthurian Chronicles, 578

- Lear (and others), A Book of Nonsense, 806

- Le Sage’s Gil Blas, 437, 438

- Leslie’s Memoirs of John Constable, 563

- Lever’s Harry Lorrequer, 177

- Lewes’ Life of Goethe, 269

- Lincoln’s Speeches, etc., 206

- Livy’s History of Rome, 603, 669, 670, 749, 755, 756

- Locke’s Civil Government, 751

- Lockhart’s Life of Napoleon, 3

- ”       Life of Scott, 55

- ”       Burns, 156

- Longfellow’s Poems, 382

- Lönnrott’s Kalevala, 259, 260

- Lover’s Handy Andy, 178

- Lowell’s Among My Books, 607

- Lucretius: Of the Nature of Things, 750

- Lützow’s History of Bohemia, 432

- Lyell’s Antiquity of Man, 700

- Lytton’s Harold, 15

- ”       Last of the Barons, 18

- ”       Last Days of Pompeii, 80

- ”       Pilgrims of the Rhine, 390

- ”       Rienzi, 532

- Macaulay’s England, 34-36

- ”       Essays, 225, 226

- ”       Speeches on Politics, etc., 399

- ”       Miscellaneous Essays, 439

- MacDonald’s Sir Gibbie, 678

- ”       Phantastes, 732

- Machiavelli’s Prince, 280

- ”       Florence, 376

- Maine’s Ancient Law, 734

- Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, 45, 46

- Malthus on the Principles of Population, 692, 693

- Mandeville’s Travels, 812

- Manning’s Sir Thomas More, 19

- ”       Mary Powell, and Deborah’s Diary, 324

- Marcus Aurelius’ Golden Book, 9

- Marlowe’s Plays and Poems, 383

- Marryat’s Mr. Midshipman Easy, 82

- ”       Little Savage, 159

- ”       Masterman Ready, 160

- ”       Peter Simple, 232

- ”       Children of New Forest, 247

- ”       Percival Keene, 358

- ”       Settlers in Canada, 370

- ”       King’s Own, 580

- Marryat’s Jacob Faithful, 618

- Martineau’s Feats on the Fjords, 429

- Martinengo-Cesaresco’s Folk-Lore and Other Essays, 673

- Mason’s French Mediaeval Romances, 557

- Maurice’s Kingdom of Christ, 146, 147

- Mazzini’s Duties of Man, etc., 224

- Melville’s Moby Dick, 179

- ”       Typee, 180

- ”       Omoo, 297

- Merivale’s History of Rome, 433

- Mignet’s French Revolution, 713

- Mill’s Utilitarianism, Liberty, Representative Government, 482

- Miller’s Old Red Sandstone, 103

- Milman’s History of the Jews, 377, 378

- Milton’s Areopagitica and other Prose Works, 795

- Milton’s Poems, 384

- Mommsen’s History of Rome, 542-545

- Montagu’s (Lady) Letters, 69

- Montaigne, Florio’s, 440-442

- More’s Utopia, and Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, 461

- Morier’s Hajji Baba, 679

- Morris’ (Wm.) Early Romances, 261

- ”       Life and Death of Jason, 575

- Motley’s Dutch Republic, 86-88

- Mulock’s John Halifax, 123

- Neale’s Fall of Constantinople, 655

- Newcastle’s (Margaret, Duchess of) Life of the First Duke of Newcastle, etc., 722

- Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua, 636

- ”       On the Scope and Nature of University Education, and a Paper on Christianity and Scientific Investigation, 723

- Oliphant’s Salem Chapel, 244

- Osborne (Dorothy), Letters of, 674

- Owen’s A New View of Society, etc., 799

- Paine’s Rights of Man, 718

- Palgrave’s Golden Treasury, 96

- Paltock’s Peter Wilkins, 676

- Park (Mungo), Travels of, 205

- Parkman’s Conspiracy of Pontiac, 302, 303

- Parry’s Letters of Dorothy Osborne, 674

- Paston Letters, 752, 753

- Paton’s Two Morte D’Arthur Romances, 634

- Peacock’s Headlong Hall, 327

- Penn’s The Peace of Europe, Some Fruits of Solitude, etc., 724

- Pepys’ Diary, 53, 54

- Percy’s Reliques, 148, 149

- Pitt’s Orations, 145

- Plato’s Republic, 64

- ”       Dialogues, 456, 457

- Plutarch’s Lives, 407-409

- ”       Moralia, 565

- Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination, 336

- Poe’s Poems and Essays, 791

- Polo’s (Marco) Travels, 306

- Pope’s Complete Poetical Works, 760

- Prescott’s Conquest of Peru, 301

- ”       Conquest of Mexico, 397, 398

- Procter’s Legends and Lyrics, 150

- Ramayana and Mahabharata, 403

- Rawlinson’s Herodotus, 405, 406

- Reade’s The Cloister and the Hearth, 29

- ”       Peg Woffington, 299

- Reid’s (Mayne) Boy Hunters of the Mississippi, 582

- ”       The Boy Slaves, 797

- Renan’s Life of Jesus, 805

- Restoration Plays, 604

- Reynolds’ Discourses, 118

- Rhys’ Fairy Gold, 157

- ”       New Golden Treasury, 695

- ”       Anthology of British Historical Speeches and Orations, 714

- ”       Political Liberty, 745

- ”       Golden Treasury of Longer Poems, 746

- ”       Prelude to Poetry, 789

- ”       Mother Goose, 473

- Ricardo’s Principles of Political Economy and Taxation, 590

- Richardson’s Pamela, 683, 684

- Roberts’ (Morley) Western Avernus, 762

- Robertson’s Religion and Life, 37

- ”       Christian Doctrine, 38

- ”       Bible Subjects, 39

- Robinson’s (Wade) Sermons, 637

- Roget’s Thesaurus, 630, 631

- Rossetti’s (D. G.) Poems, 627

- Rousseau’s Emile, 518

- ”       Social Contract and Other Essays, 660

- Ruskin’s Seven Lamps of Architecture, 207

- ”       Modern Painters, 208-212

- ”       Stones of Venice, 213-215

- ”       Unto this Last, etc., 216

- ”       Elements of Drawing, etc., 217

- ”       Pre-Raphaelitism, etc., 218

- ”       Sesame and Lilies, 219

- ”       Ethics of the Dust, 282

- ”       Crown of Wild Olive, and Cestus of Aglaia, 323

- ”       Time and Tide, with other Essays, 450

- ”       The Two Boyhoods, 688

- Russell’s Life of Gladstone, 661

- Russian Short Stories, 758

- Sand’s (George) The Devil’s Pool, and François the Waif, 534

- Scheffel’s Ekkehard: A Tale of the 10th Century, 529

- Scott’s (M.) Tom Cringle’s Log, 710

- Scott’s (Sir W.) Ivanhoe, 16

- ”       Fortunes of Nigel, 71

- ”       Woodstock, 72

- ”       Waverley, 75

- ”       The Abbot, 124

- ”       Anne of Geierstein, 125

- ”       The Antiquary, 126

- ”       Highland Widow, and Betrothed, 127

- ”       Black Dwarf, Legend of Montrose, 128

- ”       Bride of Lammermoor, 129

- ”       Castle Dangerous, Surgeon’s Daughter, 130

- ”       Robert of Paris, 131

- ”       Fair Maid of Perth, 132

- ”       Guy Mannering, 133

- ”       Heart of Midlothian, 134

- ”       Kenilworth, 135

- ”       The Monastery, 136

- ”       Old Mortality, 137

- ”       Peveril of the Peak, 138

- ”       The Pirate, 139

- ”       Quentin Durward, 140

- ”       Redgauntlet, 141

- ”       Rob Roy, 142

- ”       St. Ronan’s Well, 143

- ”       The Talisman, 144

- ”       Lives of the Novelists, 331

- ”       Poems and Plays, 550, 551

- Seebohm’s Oxford Reformers, 665

- Seeley’s Ecce Homo, 305

- Sewell’s (Anna) Black Beauty, 748

- Shakespeare’s Comedies, 153

- ”       Histories, etc., 154

- ”       Tragedies, 155

- Shelley’s Poetical Works, 257, 258

- Shelley’s (Mrs.) Frankenstein, 616

- Sheppard’s Charles Auchester, 505

- Sheridan’s Plays, 95

- Sismondi’s Italian Republics, 250

- Smeaton’s Life of Shakespeare, 514

- Smith’s Wealth of Nations, 412, 413

- Smith’s (George) Life of Wm. Carey, 395

- Smith’s (Sir Wm.) Smaller Classical Dictionary, 495

- Smollett’s Roderick Random, 790

- Sophocles, Young’s, 114

- Southey’s Life of Nelson, 52

- Speke’s Source of the Nile, 50

- Spence’s Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632

- Spencer’s (Herbert) Essays on Education, 504

- Spenser’s Faerie Queene, 443, 444

- Spinoza’s Ethics, etc., 481

- Spyri’s Heidi, 431

- Stanley’s Memorials of Canterbury, 89

- ”       Eastern Church, 251

- Steele’s The Spectator, 164-167

- Sterne’s Tristram Shandy, 617

- Sterne’s Sentimental Journey and Journal to Eliza, 796

- Stevenson’s Treasure Island and Kidnapped, 763

- ”       Master of Ballantrae and The Black Arrow, 764

- ”       Virginibus Puerisque and Familiar Studies of Men and Books, 765

- ”       An Inland Voyage, Travels with a Donkey, and Silverado Squatters, 766

- ”       Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Merry Men, etc., 767

- ”       Poems, 768

- ”       In the South Seas and Island Nights’ Entertainments, 769

- St. Francis, The Little Flowers of, etc., 485

- Stopford Brooke’s Theology in the English Poets, 493

- Stow’s Survey of London, 589

- Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, 371

- Strickland’s Queen Elizabeth, 100

- Swedenborg’s Heaven and Hell, 379

- ”       Divine Love and Wisdom, 635

- ”       Divine Providence, 658

- Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, 60

- ”       Journal to Stella, 757

- ”       Tale of a Tub, etc., 347

- Swiss Family Robinson, 430

- Tacitus’ Annals, 273

- ”       Agricola and Germania,274

- Taylor’s Words and Places, 517

- Tennyson’s Poems, 44, 626

- Thackeray’s Esmond, 73

- ”       Vanity Fair, 298

- ”       Christmas Books, 359

- ”       Pendennis, 425, 426

- ”       Newcomes, 465, 466

- ”       The Virginians, 507, 508

- ”       English Humorists, and The Four Georges, 610

- ”       Roundabout Papers, 687

- Thierry’s Norman Conquest, 198, 199

- Thoreau’s Walden, 281

- Thucydides’ Peloponnesian War, 455

- Tolstoy’s Master and Man, and Other Parables and Tales, 469

- ”       War and Peace, 525-527

- ”       Childhood, Boyhood and Youth, 591

- ”       Anna Karenina, 612, 613

- Trench’s On the Study of Words and English Past and Present, 788

- Trollope’s Barchester Towers, 30

- ”       Framley Parsonage, 181

- ”       Golden Lion of Granpere, 701

- ”       The Warden, 182

- ”       Dr. Thorne, 360

- ”       Small House at Allington, 361

- ”       Last Chronicles of Barset, 391, 392

- Trotter’s The Bayard of India, 396

- ”       Hodson, of Hodson’s Horse, 401

- ”       Warren Hastings, 452

- Turgeniev’s Virgin Soil, 528

- ”       Liza, 677

- ”       Fathers and Sons, 742

- Tyndall’s Glaciers of the Alps, 98

- Tytler’s Principles of Translation, 168

- Vasari’s Lives of the Painters, 784-7

- Verne’s (Jules) Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, 319

- ”       Dropped from the Clouds, 367

- ”       Abandoned, 368

- ”       The Secret of the Island, 369

- ”       Five Weeks in a Balloon and Around the World in Eighty Days, 779

- Virgil’s Æneid, 161

- ”       Eclogues and Georgics, 222

- Voltaire’s Life of Charles XII., 270

- ”       Age of Louis XIV., 780

- Wace and Layamon’s Arthurian Chronicles, 578

- Walpole’s Letters, 775

- Walton’s Compleat Angler, 70

- Waterton’s Wanderings in South America, 772

- Wesley’s Journal, 105-108

- White’s Selborne, 48

- Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (I.) and Democratic Vistas, etc., 573

- Whyte-Melville’s Gladiators, 523

- Wood’s (Mrs. Henry) The Channings, 84

- Woolman’s Journal, etc., 402

- Wordsworth’s Shorter Poems, 203

- ”       Longer Poems, 311

- Wright’s An Encyclopædia of Gardening, 555

- Xenophon’s Cyropædia, 672

- Yellow Book, 503

- Yonge’s The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest, 329

- ”       The Book of Golden Deeds, 330

- ”       The Heir of Redclyffe, 362

- ”       The Little Duke, 470

- ”       The Lances of Lynwood, 579

- Young’s (Arthur) Travels in France and Italy, 720

- Young’s (Sir George) Sophocles, 114

- A Century of Essays. An Anthology, 653

- A Dictionary of Dates, 554

- A Dictionary of Quotations and Proverbs, 809-810

- An Anthology of English Prose: From Bede to Stevenson, 675

- Ancient Hebrew Literature, 4 vols., 253-256

- Annals of Fairyland, 365, 366, 541

- Atlas of Classical Geography, 451

- English Short Stories. An Anthology, 743

- Everyman’s English Dictionary, 776

- Literary and Historical Atlases: Europe, 496; America, 553; Asia, 633; Africa and Australasia, 662

- The New Testament, 93

- 1st and 2nd Prayer Books of King Edward VI., 448

NOTE—The following numbers are at present out of print:

110, 111, 146, 228, 244, 275, 390, 418, 597

LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD.

NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

Transcriber’s note

The spelling and hyphenation in the original are inconsistent, and have not been changed. A few obvious typographical errors have been corrected, as listed below.

Book III, line 447. “My frend’s own son” no change made.

Book IV, line 454. “thou must be ideot born” no change made.

Book VII, line 294. “Saidst not” no change made.

Book IX, Argument. “binds him while he sleeps” changed to “blinds him while he sleeps”.

Book IX, line 428, footnote. “It is certian” changed to “It is certain”.

Book XV, line 276. Footnote marker missing from original.

Book XVII, line 378. “in one moment thou shouldst” no change made.

Book XVII, line 508. “(whencesoe’er they came” closing bracket added.

Book XVII, line 616. “thou shouldst hear” no change made.

Book XIX, line 317. “(with these hands” closing bracket added.

Book XXI, line 468. “and re-entring fill’d” no change made.

Book XXIII, line 209. “with his own bands” changed to “with his own hands”.

Book XXIV, line 629. “his smouldring bolt” no change made.

Note II. “ἀβληχρός” changed to “ἀβληχρὸς”.

end chapter

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Table of Contents

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Odyssey of Homer, by Homer

Transcriber's note

Contents

THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER

THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BLANK VERSE

BOOK I

ARGUMENT

BOOK II

ARGUMENT

BOOK III

ARGUMENT

BOOK IV

ARGUMENT

BOOK V

ARGUMENT

BOOK VI

ARGUMENT

BOOK VII

ARGUMENT

BOOK VIII

ARGUMENT

BOOK IX

ARGUMENT

BOOK X

ARGUMENT

BOOK XI

ARGUMENT

BOOK XII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XIII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XIV

ARGUMENT

BOOK XV

ARGUMENT

BOOK XVI

ARGUMENT

BOOK XVII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XVIII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XIX

ARGUMENT

BOOK XX

ARGUMENT

BOOK XXI

ARGUMENT

BOOK XXII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XXIII

ARGUMENT

BOOK XXIV

ARGUMENT

NOTES

NOTE I.

NOTE II.

NOTE III.

NOTE IV.

EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY

Transcriber’s note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE