TO THE READER, CONCERNING THE VIRTUES OF AN HEROIC POEM.
THE virtues required in an heroic poem, and indeed in all
writings published, are comprehended all in this one worddiscretion.
And discretion consisteth in this, that every part of the
poem be conducing, and in good order placed to the end and
design of the poet. And the design is not only to profit,
but also to delight the reader.
By profit, I intend not here any accession of wealth, either
to the poet, or to the reader; but accession of prudence,
justice, and fortitude, by the example of such great and noble
persons as he introduceth speaking, or describeth acting.
For all men love to behold, though not to practise virtue.
So that at last the work of an heroic poet is no more but to
furnish an ingenuous reader, when his leisure abounds, with
the diversion of an honest and delightful story, whether true
or feigned.
But because there be many men called critics, and wits,
and virtuosi, that are accustomed to censure the poets, and
most of them of divers judgments, how is it possible, you'll
say, to please them all? Yes, very well; if the poem be as
it should be. For men can judge what is good, that know
not what is best. For he that can judge what is best, must
have considered all those things, though they be almost innumerable,
that concur to make the reading of an heroic
poem pleasant. Whereof I'll name as many as shall come
into my mind.
And they are contained, first, in the choice of words.
Secondly, in the construction. Thirdly, in the contrivance
of the story or fiction. Fourthly, in the elevation of the
fancy. Fifthly, in the justice and impartiality of the poet.
Sixthly, in the clearness of descriptions. Seventhly, in the
amplitude of the subject.
And, to begin with words: the first indiscretion is, the use
of such words as to the readers of poesy (which are commonly
persons of the best quality) are not sufficiently known. For
the work of an heroic poem is to raise admiration, principally,
for three virtues, valour, beauty, and love; to the reading
whereof women no less than men have a just pretence,
though their skill in language be not so universal; and therefore
foreign words, till by long use they become vulgar, arc
unintelligible to them. Also the names of instruments and
tools of artificers, and words of art, though of use in the
Schools, are far from being fit to be spoken by a hero. He
may delight in the arts themselves, and have skill in some of
them, but his glory lies not in that, but in courage, nobility,
and other virtues of nature, or in the command he has over
other men. Nor does Homer in any part of his poem attribute
any praise to Achilles, or any blame to Alexander, for
that they had both learnt to play upon the guitar. The
character of words that become a hero are property and significancy,
but without both the malice and lasciviousness of
a satyr.
Another virtue of an heroic poem is the perspicuity and
the facility of construction, and consisteth in a natural contexture
of the words, so as not to discover the labour, but the
natural ability of the poet; and this is usually called a good
style. For the order of words, when placed as they ought
to be, carries a light before it, whereby a man may foresee
the length of his period, as a torch in the night shows a man
the stops and unevenness in his way. But when placed unnaturally,
the reader will often find unexpected checks, and
be forced to go back and hunt for the sense, and suffer such
unease, as in a coach a man unexpectedly finds in passing
over a furrow. And though the laws of verse (which have
bound the Greeks and Latins to number of feet, and quantity
of syllables, and the English and other nations to number
of syllables and rhyme) put great constraint upon the natural
course of language, yet the poet, having the liberty to depart
from what is obstinate, and to choose somewhat else that is
more obedient to such laws, and no less fit for his purpose,
shall not be, neither by the measure, nor by the necessity of
rhyme, excused; though a translation often may.
A third virtue lies in the contrivance. For there is difference
between a poem and a history in prose. For a history
is wholly related by the writer; but in an heroic poem the
narration is, a great part of it, put upon some of the persons
introduced by the poet. So Homer begins not his Iliad
with the injury done by Paris, but makes it related by
Menelaus, and very briefly, as a thing notorious; nor begins
he his Odysseys with the departure of Ulysses from Troy,
but makes Ulysses himself relate the same to Alcinous, in the
midst of his poem; which I think much more pleasant and
ingenious, than a too precise and close following of the time.
A fourth is in the elevation of fancy, which is generally
taken for the greatest praise of heroic poetry; and is so,
when governed by discretion. For men more generally
affect and admire fancy than they do either judgment, or
reason, or memory, or any other intellectual virtue, and for
the pleasantness of it, give to it alone the name of wit,
accounting reason and judgment but for a dull entertainment.
For in fancy consisteth the sublimity of a poet, which is that
poetical fury which the readers, for the most part, call for.
It flies abroad swiftly to fetch in both matter and words;
but if there be not discretion at home to distinguish which
are fit to be used and which not, which decent and which
undecent for persons, times, and places, their delight and
grace is lost. But if they be discreetly used, they are greater
ornaments of a poem by much than any other. A metaphor
also (which is a comparison contracted into a word) is not
unpleasant; but when they are sharp and extraordinary,
they are not fit for an heroic poet, nor for a public consultation,
but only for an accusation or defence at the bar.
A fifth lies in the justice and impartiality of the poet, and
belongeth as well to history as to poetry. For both the poet
and the historian writeth only, or should do, matter of fact.
And as far as the truth of fact can defame a man, so far they
are allowed to blemish the reputation of persons. But to do
the same upon report, or by inference, is below the dignity,
not only of a hero, but of a man. For neither a poet nor a
historian ought to make himself an absolute master of any
man'is good name. None of the Emperors of Rome whom
Tacitus, or any other writer, hath condemned, was ever subject
to the judgment of any of them; nor were they ever
heard to plead for themselves, which are things that ought to
be antecedent to condemnation. Nor was, I think, Epicurus
the philosopher, (who is transmitted to us by the Stoics for
a man of evil and voluptuous life), ever called, convented,
and lawfully convicted, as all men ought to be before they be
defamed. Therefore it is a very great fault in a poet to
speak evil of any man in their writings historical.
A sixth virtue consists in the perfection and curiosity of
descriptions, which the ancient writers of eloquence call
icones, that is images. And an image is always a part, or
rather a ground of the poetical comparison. As, for example,
when Virgil would set before our eyes the fall of Troy, he
describes perhaps the whole labour of many men together in
the felling of some great tree, and with how much ado it fell.
This is the image. To which if you but add these words,
" So fell Troy," you have the comparison entire ; the grace
whereof lieth in the lightsomeness, and is but the description
of all, even the minutest, parts of the thing described; that
not only they that stand far off, but also they that stand
near, and look upon it with the oldest spectacles of a critic,
may approve it. For a poet is a painter, and should paint
actions to the understanding with the most decent words, as
painters do persons and bodies with the choicest colours, to
the eye; which if not done nicely, will not be worthy to be
placed in a cabinet.
The seventh virtue, which lying in the amplitude of the
subject, is nothing but variety, and a thing without which a
whole poem would be no pleasanter than an epigram, or one
good verse; nor a picture of a hundred figures better than
any one of them asunder, if drawn with equal art. And
these are the virtues which ought especially to be looked
upon by the critics, in the comparing of the poets, Homer
with Virgil, or Virgil with Lucan. For these only, for their
excellency, I have read, or heard compared.
If the comparison be grounded upon the first and second
virtues, which consist in known words and style unforced,
they are all excellent in their own language, though perhaps
the Latin than the Grerk is apter to dispose itself into an
hexameter verse, as having both fewer monosyllables and
fewer polysyllables. And this may make the Latin verse
appear more grave and equal, which is taken for a kind of
majesty; though in truth there be no majesty in words, but
then when they seem to proceed from a high and weighty
employment of the mind. But neither Homer, nor Virgil,
nor Lucan, nor any poet writing commendably, though not
excellently, was ever charged much with unknown words,
or great constraint of style, as being a fault proper to translators,
when they hold themselves too superstitiously to their
author's words.
In the third virtue, which is contrivance, there is no doubt
but Homer excels them all. For their poems, except the
introduction of their Gods, are but so many histories in
verse: where Homer has woven so many histories together
as contain the whole learning of his time (which the Greeks
call cyclopœdia), and furnished both the Greek and Latin
stages with all the plots and arguments of their tragedies.
The fourth virtue, which is the height of fancy, is almost
proper to Lucan, and so admirable in him, that no heroic
poem raises such admiration of the poet, as his bath done,
though not so great admiration of the persons he introducetli.
And though it be a mark of a great wit, yet it is fitter for a
rhetorician than a poet, and rebelleth often against discretion,
as when he says,
Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.
that is,
The side that won the Gods approved most,
But Cato better lik'd the side that lost.
Than which nothing could be spoken more gloriously to the
the exaltation of a man, nor more disgracefully to the depression
of the Gods. Homer indeed maketh some Gods for
the Greeks, and some for the Trojans, but always makes
Jupiter impartial; and never prefers the judgment of a man
before that of Jupiter, much less before the judgment of all
the Gods together.
The fifth virtue, which is the justice and impartiality of a
poet, is very eminent in Homer and Virgil, but the contrary
in Lucan. Lucan shows himself openly in the Pompeian
faction, inveighing against Caesar throughout his poem, like
Cicero against Cataline or Marc Antony, and is therefore
justly reckoned by Quintilian as a rhetorician rather than a
poet. And a great part of the delight of his readers proceedeth
from the pleasure which too many men take to hear
great persons censured. But Homer and Virgil, especially
Homer, do everywhere what they can to preserve the reputation
of their heroes.
If we compare Homer and Virgil by the sixth virtue,
which is the clearness of images, or descriptions, it is manifest
that Homer ought to be preferred, though Virgil himself
were to be the judge. For there are very few images in
Virgil besides those which he bath translated out of Homer;
so that Virgil's images are Homer's praises. But what if he
have added something to it of his own ? Though he have,
yet it is no addition of praise, because it is easy. But he
hath some images which are not in Homer, and better than
his. It may be so; and so may other poets have which
never durst compare themselves with Homer. Two or three
fine sayings are not enough to make a wit. But where is
that image of his better done by him than Homer, of those
that have been done by them both ? Yes, Eustathius, as
Mr. Ogilby hath observed, where they both describe the
falling of a tree, prefers Virgil's description. But Eustathius
is in that, I think, mistaken. The place of Homer is in the
fourth of the Iliads, the sense whereof is this:
As when a man bath fell'd a poplar tree,
Tall, straight, and smooth, with all the fair boughs on ;
Of which he means a coach-wheel made shall be,
And leaves it on the bank to dry i' th' sun ;
So lay the comely Simoisius,
Slain by great Ajax, son of Telamon.
It is manifest that in this place Homer intended no more
than to show how comely the body of Simoisius appeared as
he lay dead upon the bank of Scamander, straight and tall,
with a fair head of hair, and like a straight and high poplar
with the boughs still on; and not at all to describe the
manner of his falling, which, when a man is wounded through
the breast, as he was with a spear, is always sudden.
The description of how a great tree falleth, when many
men together hew it down, is in the second of Virgil's
Æneads. The sense of it, with the comparison, is in English
this:
And Troy, methought, then sunk in fire an smoke,
And overturned was in every part:
As when upon the mountain an old oak
Is hewn about with keen steel to the heart,
And plied by swains with many heavy blows,
It nods and every way it threatens round,
Till overcome with many wounds, it bows,
And leisurely at last comes to the ground.
And here again it is evident that Virgil meant to compare
the manner how Troy, after many battles, and after the
losses of many cities, conquered by the many nations under
Agamemnon in a long war, and thereby weakened, and at
last overthrown, with a great tree hewn round about, and
then falling by little and little leisurely.
So that neither these two descriptions, nor the two comparisons
can be compared together. The image of a man
lying on the ground is one thing; the image of falling,
especially of a kingdom, is another. This therefore gives no
advantage to Virgil over Homer. It is true, that this description
of the felling and falling of a tree is exceeding
graceful, but is it therefore more than Homer could have
done if need had been ? Or is there no description in Homer
of somewhat else as good as this ? Yes, and in many of our
English poets now alive. If it then be lawful for Julius
Scaliger to say, that if Jupiter would have described the fall
of a tree, he could not have mended this of Virgil; it will
be lawful for me to repeat an old epigram of Antipater, to
the like purpose, in favour of Homer.
The writer of the famous Trojan war,
And of Ulysses' life, O Jove make known,
Who, whence he was; for thine the verses are,
And he would have us think they are his own.
The seventh and last commendation of an heroic poem
consisteth in amplitude and variety; and in this Homer
exceedeth Virgil very much, and that not by superfluity of
words, but by plenty of heroic matter, and multitude of
descriptions and comparisons (whereof Virgil hath translated
but a small part into his Æneads), such as are the images of
shipwracks, battles, single combats, beauty, passions of the
mind, sacrifices, entertainments, and other things, whereof
Virgil, abating what he borrows of Homer, has scarce the
twentieth part. It is no wonder therefore if all the ancient
learned men both of Greece and Rome have given the
first place in poetry to Homer. It is rather strange that
two or three, and of late time, and but learners of the Greek
tongue, should dare to contradict so many competent judges
both of language and discretion. But howsoever I defend
Homer, I aim not thereby at any reflection upon the following
translation. Why then did I write it ? Because I had
nothing else to do. Why publish it ? Because I thought
it might take off my adversaries from showing their folly
upon my more serious writings, and set them upon my
verses to show their wisdom. But why without annotations ?
Because I had no hope to do it better than it is already done
by Mr. Ogilby.
T. HOBBES.
THE LIFE OF HOMER, COLLECTED AND WRITTEN BY J. WALLIAM.
HOMER, whose proper name was Melesigenes, was born in
the country of Æolia, about 160 years after the siege of
Troy, which was about the year of the world 3665, of
Critheis, daughter of Melanopus and Omyris, who, after her
father and mother's death, was left to a friend of her father's
at Cuma, who, when he found she was with child, in displeasure
he sent her away to a friend's at a place nigh the
River Meles; where, at a feast among other young women,
she was delivered of a son, whose name she called Melesigenes,
from the place where he was born. Critheis went with her
son to Ismenias, and after to Smyrna, where she dressed
wool to get a livelihood for herself and son. Phemius, the
schoolmaster, taking a fancy to her, married her, and took
her son into the school, who by his sharpness of wit outwent
all the school in wisdom and learning. In a short time after,
his master dying, he taught the same school, and gained
great reputation by his learning, not only at Smyrna, but all
the countries round about; for the merchants that did frequent
Smyrna, with corn, &c. did spread his fame about;
amongst which merchants, one Mentes, master of a ship of
Leucadia, took that kindness for him, that he persuaded him
to leave his school and travel with him, which he did, by
whom he was maintained well and plentifully in his travels.
They went to Spain, from thence to Italy, and from Italy
through several countries, and at last came to Ithaca, where
a violent rheum fell into the eyes of Homer, that he could
not travel any further, so that Mentes left him with a friend
of his called Mentor, a person of great riches and honour in
Ithaca, where Homer learned the principal matters relating
to Ulysses' life; but Mentes the next year came back the
same way, and finding Homer recovered in his eyes, took
him in his travels. They went through many countries till
they came to Colophen, where he fell into his old distemper
of his eyes, and there grew quite blind; after which he
addicted himself to poetry; but being poor, he went to
Smyrna, expecting to get better encouragement there; but
being disappointed of his expectation, he went to Cuma, and
as he went he rested at a town called New-wall, where he
repeated some of his verses; and one Tichio, a leather-seller,
took such delight to hear them, that he entertained him
kindly for a long time. After, he proceeded on his journey
to Cuma, and when he came there he was well received, and
he had some friends in the senate that did propose to have
had a maintenance settled on him for life, but it could not
be carried. At this place he first received the name of
Homer, from his blindness.
From Cuma he went to Phocaea, where lived one Thestorides,
a schoolmaster, who invited Homer to live with him,
and by that means he got some of his verses, and after
went to Chios, where he taught them as his own verses,
and got great reputation by them. When Homer heard
that Thestorides had thus abused him, he followed him to
Chios, and by the way, at a place called Bollisus, was taken
up by a shepherd, as he was keeping his master's sheep;
the shepherd did relieve him, and carried him to his master,
where he lived some time, and taught his children; yet
he could not rest till he had been at Chios to discover
the cheat of Thestorides, who when he heard of Homer's
coming, he left Chios, where Homer tarried some time, and
taught a school, grew rich, married, and had two daughters,
one of which died young, the other he married to the shep
herd's master that took him in at Bollisus. When he grew
old he left Chios, and went to Samoa, where he staid some
time singing of verses at feasts and at new moons, at the
chiefest men's houses in all places where he was. From
Samos he was going to Athens, but fell sick at Ios, and
there died, and was buried on the sea-shore. Long after,
when his poems had gotten an universal applause, the people
of Ios built him a sepulchre.
HOMER'S ODYSSES. TRANSLATED OUT OF GREEK BY THOMAS HOBBES, OF MALMESBURY.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. I.
In a council of the Gods (Neptune absent) Pallas procureth an order for the restitution of Ulysses, and appear. ing to his son Telemachus in human shape, adviseth him to complain of the suitors before the council of the Lords, and then to go to Pylus and Sparta to enquire about his father.
TELL me, O Muse, th' adventures of the man
That having sack'd the sacred town of Troy,
Wander'd so long at sea; what course he ran
By winds and tempests driven from his way:
That saw the cities, and the fashions knew
Of many men, but suffer'd grievous pain
To save his own life, and bring home his crew;
Though for his crew, all he could do was vain,
They lost themselves by their own insolence,
Feeding, like fools, on the Sun's sacred kine ;
Which did the splendid deity incense
To their dire fate. Begin, O Muse divine.
The Greeks from Troy were all returned home,
All that the war and winds had spar'd, except
The discontent Ulysses only; whom
In hollow caves the nymph Calypso kept.
But when the years and days were come about,
Wherein was woven his return by fate
To Ithaca (but neither there without
Great pain), the Gods then pitied his estate,
All saving Neptune ; who did never cease
To hinder him from reaching his own shore,
And persecute him still upon the seas
Till he got home, then troubled him no more.
Neptune was now far off in Black-moor land;
The Black-moors are the utmost of mankind,
As far as east and west asunder stand,
So far the Black-moors* borders are disjoin'd.
Invited there to feast on ram and bull,
There sat he merry. Th' other Gods were then
Met on Olympus in a synod full,
In th' house of Jove, father of Gods and men.
And first spake Jove, whose thoughts were now upon
Ægistus' death, which he but then first knew,
By th' hand of Agamemnon's valiant son,
Who to revenge his father's blood him slew.
Ha! how dare mortals tax the Gods, and say,
Their harms do all proceed from our decree,
And by our setting; when by their crimes they
Against our wills make their own destiny ?
As now Ægistus did Atrides kill
Newly come home, and married his wife ;
Although he knew it was against my will,
And that it would cost him one day his life.
Sent we not Hermes to him to forbid
The murder, and the marriage of the wife;
And tell him if the contrary he did
Orestes should revenge it on his life ?
All this said Hermes, as we bade him. But
Ægistus, for all this, was not afraid
His lust in execution to put.
And therefore now has dearly for it paid.
Then Pallas moved on Ulysses' part,
And said, O Father Jove, the king of kings,
Ægistus' fate was fit for his desert,
So let them perish all that do such things.
'Tis for Ulysses that I live in pain,
Poor man, long absent from his friends, forlorn,
In a small isle, the centre of the main ;
Kept from his home, doth nought but grieve and mourn.
The isle is beautified with goodly trees.
And in it dwells a nymph. Her father's name
Atlas, that all the depths of the ocean sees,
And beareth up the pillars of the same,
And heaven and earth to boot. His daughter 'tis
That with fair words and gentle courtesy
Detains Ulysses. And her meaning is
For ever there to have his company.
Whilst he, alas! e'en dies for very grief.
To see the smoke of Ithaca he wishes,
And would take that for some, though small relief.
And yet you are not mov'd. Were not Ulysses
His sacrifices on the Trojan shore
Both free and bountiful ? They were, you know:
In th' Argive camp, I dare say, no man's more.
Why, therefore, Father, should you hate him so ?
To her the mighty Jove made this reply.
Child, what a word is this that you let fall ?
Do I neglect Ulysses, or do I
Ulysses hate, that amongst mortals all
For wisdom and for piety excels ?
Neptune, that backs and shakes the earth, 'tis he
Whose breast with anger and revenge still swells
Against him, for his son's calamity,
The godlike Polypheme, Cyclops the great,
Whom on Thoosa, Phorcys' daughter brave,
Neptune the king of waters did beget,
Embracing her within a hollow cave ;
And him Ulysses has depriv'd of sight.
For which, though Neptune do not him destroy,
He crosses him with dangers day and night,
And drives him up and down out of his way.
But well, let us that are assembled now
Bethink us how to bring him home. 'Tis odds
'Twill cool his rage. He has not strength enough
T' oppose the power of all the other Gods.
Then Pallas said, O Jove, of kings the king,
Since the blest Gods have thought good, and decreed
Ulysses to his native soil to bring,
Let's Hermes send unto the nymph with speed,
In th' isle Ogygia, to let her know
Our sentence, that she may the same obey.
And I to Ithaca meanwhile will go,
And cause his son to call without delay
The common council; and to make him bold,
To warn his mother's suitors to be gone,
And feast no longer on his herd and fold,
As they before had insolently done.
To Sparta too I'll send him, and to Pyle
T' inquire about his father's navigation,
That in the world, by travel for a while,
He may acquire a greater reputation.
This said, upon her feet her shoes she binds,
Ambrosian golden shoes, that do her bear
On land and water swiftly as the winds,
And takes in hand her brazen-headed spear ;
A heavy, massy, and strong spear, the same
Wherewith, when angry, she the armed bands
Of mighty men of war does eas'ly tame.
That was the spear she carried in her hands.
Then from the high Olympus leapt she down
T' Ulysses' house, and stood in the hall-door
I' th' shape of Mentes, that possess'd the crown
O' th' Taphian people, whom he reigned o'er.
And thence beheld the suitors in the court,
Sitting upon the hides of beeves, which they
Themselves had kill'd, and, wanting other sport,
Playing at chess they pass'd their time away.
Meanwhile their officers and serving-men
Were busy mingling water with the wine,
Others the meat divide, others make clean,
Set up and rub the tables till they shine.
Telemachus now with the suitors sat,
Fancying, in case his father should appear,
Brought home by the Gods or by some lucky fate,
How then these knaves would slink away for fear;
And he again recover his estate,
And in his own land rule without a peer.
He was the first that spied the Goddess, and
Then presently he hastened to the door;
Receives her spear and takes her by the hand,
And both go in, she after, he before.
You shall, said he, stranger be welcome here :
But first let's sup, and afterwards well find
Sufficient time both for me to inquire,
And you to tell your business and your mind.
When they were come into the stately hall,
Her spear within a case he sets upright,
T' a pillar, in which case the spears were all
His father left behind going to fight.
Then led her to a chair which stood upon
A dainty carpet curiously wrought,
And put t' her feet a stool to rest upon,
And for himself a handsome stool he brought :
Then did a maid, in a fine golden ewer,
Bring water for their hands, and pours it on
Over a bason large of silver pure,
And set a table to them, for both one:
From others' seats remoter than to fear
Their rudeness might offend her, or that they
Might peradventure listening overhear
What he and she did of Ulysses say.
Another sets on bread and other things
To eat, such as in her charge were at home.
But flesh of many sorts the carver brings,
And the cup-bearers often go and come.
Then came the suitors in, and took their places
All in a row. To each a table stands,
And golden bowl, one way look all their faces,
The waiters bring in water for their hands.
The maids in baskets bring both bread and meat,
On which they lay their hands with great good will,
And heartily and hastily they eat,
And to the brim their cups the servants fill.
When they of hunger had pluck'd out the sting,
The lusty suitors' thoughts converted were
To dancing, and to hear the minstrel sing,
Sports these are consecrated to good cheer.
To Phemius, the minstrel, that was by,
Unwillingly, forc'd by th' unruly throng,
They brought a cittern, and he presently
Began to play, and then to sing a song.
But to the Goddess Pallas, in her ear
Telemachus began to speak his mind,
Not being willing any else should hear.
Excuse me, friend, that I say what I find.
You see the care of these men what it is,
Singing and dancing. And no wonder, since
That which they spend is not their own, but his
Whose bones lie somewhere naked far from hence,
Unburied, it may be, on the ground,
There rotting as he lies i' th' dew and rain;
Or else at sea, perhaps, if he be drown'd,
The waves his body roll upon the main.
If him at home the best of them should meet
Safely arrived in Ithaca, he would
Much rather wish, I think, for nimble feet,
Than to be rich in garment or in gold.
But, oh ! he's dead, and of some cruel death ;
And though some tell us he is coming home,
'Tis comfortless, for he's bereav'd of breath.
To Ithaca I ne'er shall see him come.
But let this pass, and tell me truly now
Your own, your father's, and your country's name.
And further, I desire you'll let me know,
Whence are the mariners that with you came
Unto this town? and tell me this likewise,
Where rideth the good ship that brought you to't;
For verily I can no way devise
How you should come on horseback or on foot?
And tell me, were you never here before,
Nor saw my father whilst he here abode ?
For strangers came to visit him good store,
As having much convers'd with men abroad.
I'll clearly speak, said Pallas, t' every thing.
My father was Anchialus, and I
Mentes, my city Taphos, and I king;
My people to the oar themselves apply.
At present bound I am to Temisa
For brass; and iron I carry with me thither.
Under Mount Neion, not near Ithaca,
My ship at Reithrus rideth safe from weather.
As for your father, we were mutual guests
(Ask the old lord Laertes) from our youth.
With one old maid alone his meat to dress,
He lives at's country house, hell tell you truth.
There creeps he in his vineyard up and down.
And I came hither now, 'cause I was told
By some, his son Ulysses was in town.
But 'tis not so. The Gods do him withhold
From his dear wife, and native country still
Within an island, where the savage men
By force detain him much against his will:
But all in vain, he shall return again.
For I presage, and come it shall to pass,
That am no prophet, nor birds understand;
Though he were tied there with chains of brass,
He shall get loose and see his native land.
But say, are you indeed, that arc so grown,
His son ? Your heads and eyes are like, I mark,
For we were well to one another known;
But 'twas before he did for Troy embark
With other princes of the Argive youth;
But never saw him since.
That I'm his son,
Said he, my mother says. But who in truth
Knoweth who 'twas that got him ? I think none.
If I might choose my father, I would be
His son that groweth old on's own estate.
But whom they tell me is my father, he
Of all men is the most unfortunate.
Then said the Goddess, Howsoe'er that be,
The Gods will never nameless leave your kind,
That are the son of fair Penelope,
And so well fram'd in body and in mind.
But say, What feast is this, and who these be?
You have no cause to feast. Their conversation
Pleases me not. 'Tis rude, unmannerly.
What! is't a wedding, or is't a collation ?
Friend, since you ask, said he, take the whole story.
This house was rich, my father being here,
But th' unkind Gods have taken hence that glory:
For where he is, a word we cannot hear.
Less had I griev'd, if he his life had lost
With other Argive lords under Troy wall,
Or, the war done, 'mongst those that love him most.
Then had he had a noble funeral,
At which th' Achaean princes would have been,
And the honour had redounded to his son.
But now, alas! devour'd by harpies keen,
Unheard-of and unask'd-for he is gone,
Leaving me here behind to sigh and groan.
Besides, the Gods have giv'n me other care,
Bitter enough. 'Tis not for him alone
My heart is rent. There other mischiefs are.
How many lords within these isles do sway!
Same, Dulichium, Ithaca, and Zant;
So many suitors duly every day
For marriage with my mother the house haunt.
Whilst she can none put off, and will none marry,
They spend my corn and wine, and cattle kill,
And eating here and drinking still they tarry,
And me perhaps at last they murder will.
Then Pallas said, Is't so ? 'Tis time indeed
Your father hither were come back again,
Having so long been absent hence, with speed
To lay his hands upon these shameless men.
Oh! that just now within the gates he stood
Of th' outer court, I would desire no more,
Arm'd with two spears, buckler, and helmet good,
Such now, as I have seen him heretofore.
From Ephyré he took our house in's way,
Where first I saw him merry drinking wine.
For he had been with Ilus, him to pray
To give him for his shafts a medicine,
Wherewith to make them all they wound to kill.
But he refused, fearing the powers above.
And 'twas my father gave't him for good will:
For why, he did him very dearly love.
If, such as then, Ulysses should appear
Amongst the suitors now, short liv'd I trow
They'd be, and have but bitter wedding cheer.
But when he shall come home, Gods only know,
Or whether you shall see him any more.
Meanwhile consider by what means you may
Get the unruly suitors out of door,
That so oppress you, and your house annoy.
And first observe what I shall you advise.
Convoke the people to the market-place;
Protest the Gods against their injuries,
And let the whole assembly know your case.
Say, if they needs will wed her, let her go
Back to her father, who the match should make,
And offer for her what is fit; and so
Which of them she likes best, him let her take,
And for yourself, I think it your best way,
In a good bark of twenty oars abroad
T' inquire what men can of your father say,
Or what some lucky sign from Jove may bode.
Go first to Pyle, inquire of Nestor ; then
To Sparta. Ask of Menelaus, whom
Of all which had at Troy commanded men
The Gods t' Achaia brought the latest home.
If of his safety and return you hear,
How much soever they waste your estate,
Endure their riot yet another year.
If dead, come back, and fairly celebrate
His rites, and give your mother whom she will
For husband. Then bethink you, how you may
By open force, or howsoever kill
These shameless suitors that your means destroy.
Be fool'd no more. You're now at man's estate.
Ægistus slew Orestes' father. He
Ægistus slew. Who does not this relate
With honour to Orestes' memory ?
And you, my friend, you are a goodly man.
Take heart. Gain honour. I must now be gone ;
My crew with patience no longer can
Stay for me, therefore think what's to be done.
Your counsel, said Telemachus, is such
As might become a father to his son.
IT not forget it. Though your haste be much,
Stay yet awhile; be'not so quickly gone.
Wash and take food, and then go merrily ;
And with you a fair present from me take,
Whereby to keep me in your memory;
Such as kind friends to one another make.
Then said the Goddess, Now I cannot stay.
As for your present I will not deny it,
But take it at my coming back this way,
How much soe'er you mean t' oblige me by it.
This said, she mounted from him to the sky
In likeness of an eagle, to his wonder.
Who thought it was some God, and grew thereby
Bolder, and on his father more did ponder.
And straightway to the suitors went, who were
Now come again into the house, and seated,
A song which Phemius then sung to hear,
Containing how the Grecians retreated
Unfortunately from the Trojan shore
By Pallas' doings, whom they bad offended.
Penelope that heard it, and was more
Concerned than they all, straightway descended.
She entered not, but in the door did stand,
Veil'd with a scarf which on her head she wore,
Having a waiting-woman on each hand;
And to the singer thus said, weeping sore:
Phemius, y' have better songs, why sing you then
This sad one ? Fitter 'twere the deeds to tell
Of mighty Gods, and mighty deeds of men,
Which sure would please the company as well.
Sing one of those, and let them hear and drink ;
Give over this. You touch my interest,
And wound my heart in forcing me to think
Upon my husband, of all Greeks the best.
Then said Telemachus, Good mother, why
Should not the singer choose what song to sing,
Whose part it is to please the company ?
It is not he that does the evil bring.
'Tis none of Phemius' fault, but th' act of Jove,
Who deals to all men all things as he please.
Should he not sing the songs that men most love,
The new'st ? The Greeks' sad passage o'er the seas ?
Be patient, many more besides Ulysses,
Come short from Troy by one fate or another,
Nor are you the only wife her husband misses.
Many men else are lost. Therefore, good mother,
Go to your work again above, and see
Your maids do theirs, leave censuring of songs
Unto us men, and specially to me,
To whom the greatest power here belongs.
Then to her chamber up she went again,
With her two maids, and there began to weep,
Being for her dear husband in great pain,
And wept till Pallas clos'd her eyes with sleep.
Meanwhile the suitors into clusters ran,
And one t' another his thoughts uttered
With noise enough. But there was not a man
That did not wish to have her in his bed.
Then to them spake Telemachus: D'ye hear,
Proud suitors of my mother, let's, I pray,
Give ear unto the singer, and forbear
Clamour. To-morrow is the council day,
There I shall warn you publicly, no more
To haunt my house, but each man home to go,
And there to feast by turns on your own store;
And if you be not willing to do so,
But your own means to spare, shall think it best
To feast yourselves on one man's substance all,
And ruin his estate, go on and feast,
While I upon the Gods for vengeance call.
O that the mighty Jove would so ordain,
That all men's actions might be repaid
As they deserve! Then should you all be slain
Within my doors. After he this had said,
The suitors bit their lips, and silent mused
At the strange boldness of Telemachus,
And at the language which the young man used,
To which none answer'd but Antinous.
The Gods, quoth he, have taught you a high strain
Of language, and undaunted oratory;
But if their meaning were that you should reign
Here, o'er us all, I should be very sorry.
Telemachus replied, Think what you will;
If Jove consent, why should not I be king ?
What harm is it with wealth my house to fill,
Besides the honour it will with it bring ?
In Ithaca there many princes be,
You'll say, would be as glad to rule as I.
No matter, whosoe'er be king, not he,
But I am king in my own family.
Who, said Eurymachus, shall have the hap
To reign in Ithaca is hard to guess,
It lies yet folded up within Jove's lap.
None shall, Telemachus, you dispossess
Of house, or land, or goods, by violence,
As long as there in Ithaca be men.
But tell me who that was, that now went hence;
Where he was born, and where he dwells, and then
His errand, whether business of his own,
Or some news from Ulysses, brought perchance,
And went so soon away, t' avoid being known ?
He was no mean man by his countenance.
Then said Telemachus, My father's dead,
We never shall again see one another;
With messengers I trouble not my head,
Nor soothsayers, that do but soothe my mother.
The man my father's old acquaintance was,
Mentes Anchialides, and his town
Taphos, and he thereof the ruling has ;
His people for their trade by sea well known.
Thus said he, though he doubted not at all
But 'twas some God.
Meanwhile the suitors staying
For th' evening's coming on, to dancing fall,
Or listen to the minstrel's song and playing.
The evening came, the suitors went away;
Telemachus went also to his bed,
In a warm stately chamber, where he lay
Ranging the many cares he had in's head;
Euryclea a torch before him bore,
Daughter of Ops, now old, but at the time
Laertes did her purchase, heretofore,
For twenty oxen, she was in her prime.
He honour'd her as if she'd been his wife,
But from her bed perpetually forbore,
T' avoid suspicion, and domestic strife.
She'd nurs'd Telemachus, and lov'd him more
Than did the other maids, and now she stands
To light him. He unlocks the door, goes in,
Takes off his coat, puts it into her hands,
She foldeth, brusheth, hangs it on a pin.
Then forth she went, and by a silver ring
Pulls to the door. And there all night he lay
Rememb'ring Pallas' words, and pondering
Upon the business of the following day.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. II.
Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing a ship goes secretly to Pyle by night and how he was there received.
SOON as the rosy morning did appear,
Telemachus himself array'd and shod,
Puts on his sword, and takes in hand his spear
And out he went appearing like a God.
And straight unto the criers gave command,
To call the people to the public place.
The people met. And then with spear in hand
He to them takes his way; and followed was
By two white dogs. Then takes his father's throne ;
His elders gave him way; all on him gaze.
For why; the Goddess Pallas of her own
Had set authority upon his face.
The first that spake was old AEgyptius,
Stooping with age, of great experience:
One son of his, whose name was Antiphus,
Went to the siege of Troy, but coming thence
He died in the savage Cyclops' jaws,
When with Ulysses he was in his den:
Euronymus one of the suitors was,
The others with their father dwelled then.
But still he grieved was for Antiphus.
The tears ran down his cheeks, and weeping he
Rose up and said unto th' assembly thus:
Ye men of Ithaca, I pray hear me;
Since we to Troy Ulysses sent with ships,
We ne'er convoked were to Parliament,
What need have young or old men of our lips ?
And who is he that now doth us convent ?
Has he informed been of some invasion,
And unto us the same would first report ?
Or on some other public great occasion
Would give us counsel ? The Gods bless him for't.
Telemachus then presently upstands,
Though well contented with his father's praise.
The crier puts the sceptre in his hands.
And to Ægyptius first he speaks, and says,
Here am I, that the people have convok'd.
Nor do I any news or counsel bring,
But by my private sufferings am provok'd;
Which here I offer t' your considering.
Is it not grief enough, my father's loss,
That ruled like a father to us all,
But that I must yet bear a greater cross,
To see his house to utter ruin fall ?
My mother's house the suitors daily fill,
And of the best of you they children are.
She wedded must be with her father's will,
But to her father go they do not dare.
But in my house continually they stay,
And sacrifice my beeves, and goats, and sheep,
My wine exhaust, and much they cast away.
For why, Ulysses lost is on the deep,
And I myself unable to defend.
But shall I so be still, or once be able
To bring upon these men unjust their end,
Whose injuries no more are tolerable ?
Take it to heart. Think how 'twill taken be
By other states. Fear from the Gods some change,
That are not pleased with such iniquity,
And may in closer order make you range.
By Jove I you adjure, and Themis, who
Convokes assemblies, and revokes again,
Forbear these evil deeds yourselves to do,
And of your sons the liberty restrain.
Leave me to suffer misery alone.
Hurt none but me. Unless my father have
In hatred of you some great evil done,
And for revenge these men such power you gave.
But better 'twere for me, that you than they
Should spend my treasure and my comings in.
For if among so many men it lay,
Begging I might from them the value win.
But for my case no help can now be found.
said Telemachus in choler high,
And from him threw the sceptre to the ground.
Nor could forbear to let fall tears and sigh.
The people pitied him, but silent sat;
None but Antinous durst answer make.
Telemachus, said he, too passionate
You are, and too much liberty you take.
The people's hatred you would very fain
Draw to the suitors, and procure them shame.
But from your mother cometh all your pain;
And therefore her, not us, you ought to blame.
Three years are gone and past, the fourth is this,
Since she her suitors baffled has with art,
Putting each one in hopes by messages,
And promises that he had gain'd her heart.
Moreover, setting up a beam to weave,
Suitors, said she, since dead Ulysses is,
Stay yet a little while, and give me leave
To make an end but of one business.
I must for old Laertes make a cloth,
Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.
T' offend the wives of Greece I should be loth;
For to accuse me they will not forbear,
But say I very hasty was to wed,
If I go hence and not provide a shroud
Wherein Laertes may be buried
Out of such wealth, that might have been allow'd.
Her suitors all were well content. And then
All day she wove, but ere she went to bed,
What she had wov'n, she ravell'd out again.
Three years her suitors thus she frustrated,
In the fourth year her woman her betrayed,
And in we came, whilst she the web undid,
And then to end it she could not avoid,
Since now her purpose could no more be hid.
To your complaint the suitors answer thus ;
Take notice of it, you and all the rest:
Send back your mother to Icarius,
There let her marry whom they both think best.
But if she think to vex us longer yet,
Caring for nothing but for Pallas' gifts,
To have the reputation for wit,
And skilfulness in curious work and shifts,
Wherein th' Achaean wives she doth excel,
Both old and young, Tiro, Alcmen', Micen',
Although with us she hath not dealed well;
But if to use us so she longer mean,
So much the longer with you we shall eat,
Which to Penelope will be a glory.
But we consume shall so much of your meat,
If long we stay there, that you will be sorry.
For so long as she dodges with us thus,
No whither from your house will we depart.
Then to him answered Telemachus:
Antinous, I ne'er shall have the heart
To send my mother hence against her will.
Abroad my father is, alive or dead.
That I her father should repay, were ill,
For forcing her to leave her husband's bed.
And from the Furies I shall suffer worse,
For if I force her from my house to go,
Whether she will or not, she will me curse,
And men will of me be revenged too.
If it displease you that she stayeth here,
You have your remedy ; you may go home,
And ev'ry one make all the rest good cheer
By turns, and into my house never come.
But if you needs will feed on me alone,
I can but to the Gods for vengeance call,
And reparation for what is done,
Which may enough be to destroy you all.
This said, two eagles coming were in sight,
And when they were the market-place just o'er,
Th' assembled heads surveying, stopp'd their flight,
And on their broad and levell'd wings they soar;
Then, having torn themselves both neck and cheek,
They to their right wing rise and fly away.
What this should mean th' assembly was to seek,
And to them thus did Alitherses say :
Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, said he,
And you, the suitors, that are most concern'd.
Destruction is rolling toward ye,
Although it be not by yourselves discerned.
Ulysses from his friends will not be long,
And now from Ithaca far off is not,
Seeing what daily done is in the throng,
And how to kill the suitors lays his plot;
Nay, many more besides the suitors may
Of their misfortune chance to have their part.
If they desist not soon, and come away.
I speak not this at random, but on art;
For all must come to pass I told him then,
When with the Argive lords he went to Troy:
That after twenty years he should again
Return with pain, his men all cast away.
Then said Eurymachus, Old man, go home,
And there to your own children prophecy,
Lest to them any harm hereafter come;
A better prophet for these things am L
Under the sun be many birds that fly,
And yet not all of them do fortunes tell;
Ulysses, far hence, dead is certainly,
I know not where. I would thou wert as well.
For then you would give over to inflame
Telemachus, who but too angry is;
In hope to get some present for the same,
If he will give it. But I tell you this.
If any old man, with his wisdom, dare
To set against us any young man here,
He shall be sure himself the worse to fare,
And when 'tis done he shall be ne'er the near;
We'll set a fine upon your head so wise,
Which you to pay will not be well content.
I myself will Telemachus advise
His mother may be to her father sent
To make the match, and on the dower agree,
Such as becomes him, to his daughter dear ;
Till that be done, no hope at all I see
The suitors should desist. For they not fear
Telemachus, as haughty as he is,
And full of words; and much less do they care
For such deceitful prophecies as this,
For which you only the more hated are.
Meanwhile Telemachus his goods decay,
And he shall never make them up again,
While she persists her suitors to delay,
And makes us all expect her love in vain.
And 'tis her virtue makes us thus to strive
Amongst ourselves who shall her favour win;
For many other ladies we could wive,
And be sufficiently delighted in.
Then said Telemachus, No more will I
This matter to you press, or to the woo'rs.
You and the Gods know all I do not lie;
But I demand a bark of twenty oars,
For I intend to travel for awhile,
To hear what men can of my father say.
To Lacedaemon I will go, and Pyle.
Or seek from Jove some notice of his way,
And if alive he be, and coming home,
Though to my cost, I'll stay another year.
If dead he be, then back again I'll come,
And rites of burial will give him here,
Splendid, and well becoming his estate,
And let my mother her own liking take.
Having thus spoken, down again he sate.
And then Ulysses' old friend Mentor spake,
With whom Ulysses left his house in trust.
Hear me, ye Ithacesians, said he;
Let no king ever be hereafter just,
Nor to his people soft and gentle be,
Since you Ulysses have so soon forgot,
That ever rul'd us like a father kind.
But I the suitors so much accuse not,
Although on force and fraud they set their mind,
(For 'gainst Ulysses' goods, which they devour,
They stake their heads in hope he'll ne'er come home)
And you that many are, and have the power
To check them, sit as if you all were dumb.
And then rose up Leocritus and spake:
Mentor, said he, more busy much than wise,
That would about a supper quarrel make,
Ulysses, were he here, I'd not advise
To seek by force the suitors to remove.
For though he much be wish'd for by his wife,
She would not of his coming well approve,
But he the sooner be depriv'd of life.
And you, the people, now may hence retire;
Mentor and Alitherses will provide
A bark for what place ever he'll desire ;
And if at Ithaca he mean t' abide,
No news he will hear of him a great while.
But never t' Ithaca shall come again,
If he to Lacedaemon go, or Pyle.
This said, dismiss'd and scatter'd were the men ;
And to Ulysses' house the suitors went,
Telemachus to the sea-side, and pray'd:
O God, that gavest me commandement
To pass the seas, canst not now be obey'd,
I am both by the town and woo'rs delay'd.
Then in the form of Mentor, Pallas came,
And standing by Telemachus, she said,
With such a voice as Mentor's seem'd the same,
If in you you retain the spirit brave
Your father had, to make his word his deed,
Then also the assurance I shall have,
To tell you in your voyage you shall speed ;
But if Ulysses* son you be not right,
For aught I know you may this labour spare;
Few sons exceed or reach their father's might,
But commonly inferior they are.
But since in you I see your father's wit,
I hope your voyage shall have good success;
Therefore, no more with th' woo'rs in council sit,
Expect from fools to have no more redress,
That see not their own end that is so nigh.
Nor shall you long be forced here to stay,
For with a good ship furnish you will I,
And with you will myself go all the way.
Meanwhile go you into your house again,
And put up store of wine, and of cold meat,
And good bread, which the marrow is of men;
I'll for you mariners together get.
In Ithaca are good ships, old and new,
Good store, of which I will go choose you one,
The best of all that come within my view,
And make it ready, that we may be gone.
This said, to th' house retum'd Telemachus.
The woo'rs in killing cattle were employ'd,
And straight unto him went Antinous,
And laughing, took him by the hand, and said,
Telemachus, bold and brave orator,
Fear from us neither evil word nor deed;
Eat and drink merrily as heretofore,
Well see you furnished with what you need,
Both ship and men, and see you soon convey'd
To Pyle, that of your father you may hear.
Telemachus then answered, and said,
Antinous, can I be merry here ?
D'ye think that yet too little was the wrong
The suitors did me, my estate to waste,
When I perceiv'd it not, as being young;
But since I grown am, and my childhood past,
And somewhat know, and more hear others say,
I'll do my best to bring them to their end,
Whether I go to Pyle, or here do stay.
And yet to go to Pyle I do intend,
And think my passage will not be in vain ;
For I go like a merchant, not a guest,
As if to me no ship did appertain.
It must be so; the suitors think it best.
This said, his hand from his hand he snatch'd out;
And then the suitors that were in the court,
Some give him evil words, and others flout,
And one another with him made good sport.
He'll come from Pyle with succours, God knows what,
Said one, or Sparta, which shall on us fall,
Or poison bring from Ephir6; and that
Put in the temperer shall kill us all.
Who knows, then said another, if he go,
But he his father's fate may also have,
Whilst seeking him he wanders to and fro,
Which would to us no little trouble save;
His goods amongst us we should soon divide,
And to his mother leave his houses free,
And him she chooses to lie by her side.
Thus they derided him. Then down went he
Into a large and high-roof'd room, where lay,
In chests pack'd up, great store of cloth of gold,
And garments very many, rich and gay,
And many barrels of sweet wine and old,
Which for Ulysses were preserved there,
When he returned to his native soil.
In the same room many brass vessels were,
And many barrels of sweet smelling oil,
And double were the locks upon the door,
Whereof the nurse, Euryclea, had the key.
Telemachus call'd for her, and says to her,
Come, nurse, this night I am to go away.
Fill me of wine twelve pitchers of the best,
Next to that which you for my father save;
And fine flour, twenty measures at the least,
In good thick leather satchels let me have,
Quickly. For when my mother is a-bed,
To Lacedaemon and to Pyle I go,
That of my father, if alive or dead,
There any news be, I the same may know.
Euryclea then wept and sobb'd, and said,
Dear child, why will you go from hence so far
Alone ? Your mother you will make afraid,
Of whom so dearly you beloved are.
Your father far off is already dead,
And by the way the suitors seek to kill you,
And share your goods amongst them by the head.
I pray stay here, and do not go. Why will you ?
Nurse, said Telemachus, be of good cheer;
'Tis by the counsel of a God I go,
And I require you solemnly to swear
You'll not my going let my mother know.
Telemachus to the suitors went again,
And Pallas, in his likeness, to the town,
For his transporting to procure him men,
From house to house she goeth up and down,
And of Noemon borrowed a bark,
Who not unwillingly it to him lent.
And now the sun was down, the streets were dark,
And down to the sea-side the Goddess went,
And the good ship into the sea they haul,
And in it stow all that was needful fort;
The mariners were there together all,
And tied the ship at far end of the port.
Meanwhile the suitors merrily carouse,
And Pallas then, their fancies to confound,
From the sea-side went back into the house,
And from their hands the cups threw to the ground.
And with the love of sleep possess'd their eyes,
And made them nod, and let their eye-lids down;
And not long after from their seats they rise,
And for that night took lodging in the town.
Then, like to Mentor both in form and voice,
Telemachus she called out of doors.
Your men are ready at the port, she says,
There they expecting you sit with their oars.
Then out they went, and Pallas led the way,
And found the rowers ready on the beach.
Telemachus then said, Come back, I pray,
To th* house with me, our victual thence to fetch,
Which, well put up, I there have ready laid;
But nothing of it does my mother know,
Nor any else but I and one old maid.
Then with Telemachus to th' house they go,
And to the ships at once bring all away,
And stow it as Telemachus thought fit.
Pallas and he embark without delay,
And at the stern they both together sit.
And now the mariners their tackle ply;
First, in the midst they set the mast upright,
And it unto the ship with strong ropes tie,
And then their sails they hoist up to their height,
Which Pallas, with a lusty gale from west,
Kept full all night. The ship the sea then gores;
The water, swiftly running from her breast
By both her sides, wounded and broken roars.
And then unto the Gods they offer wine,
And to them all were praying for awhile,
But specially unto their guide divine;
Then sail'd all night, and were next mom at Pyle.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. III.
Nestor entertains him at Pyle, and tells him how the Greeks departed from Troy ; and sends him for further information to Sparta.
Up from the sea the sun leapt to the sky,
To hold the light up before Gods and men;
Telemachus, with all his company,
Unto the town of Pyle arrived then.
Then Nestor had a sacrifice in hand
To Neptune, and upon the sea-side stood,
And with him store of people on the sand.
Black bulls he eighty-one had to him vow'd:
Nine seats there were, five hundred to each seat,
And to the same nine bulls appointed were;
The entrails, broil d upon the coals they eat.
The thighs to Neptune burnt to ashes were.
The ship then came within the port to land,
And disembark'd, upon the shore they staid;
With furled sails the ship did by them stand.
Then Pallas to Telemachus thus said:
Telemachus, by no means bashful be;
For wherefore did you undertake this task,
But of your father to hear certainty ?
To Nestor then directly go, and ask
If of Ulysses anything he know.
Hell tell you truly. He's too wise to lie.
Mentor, said he, I'm young, and know not how
With one so old to answer and reply.
Telemachus, said Pallas, do not fear,
You'll somewhat prompted be by your own breast
(You never by the Gods neglected were),
The God that loves you will supply the rest.
Then up to Nestor they directly went,
And Pallas foremost. All about him there
They found upon the sacrifice intent.
His sons and lords, to hasten the good cheer,
Some broaching, and some roasting were of meat,
And presently about the strangers come,
And with their hands salute them, and entreat
To sit. And then Pisistratus went to'em,
Saluted them, and took them both by th' hands,
And for them (since there was no empty seat)
Laid sheepskins, with the wool upon the sands;
And of the entrails gave them part to eat,
And to her hand held up a cup of wine.
To Neptune, said he, offer up your vow,
For he expressly is the pow'r divine,
That we to worship be assembled now.
And having drunk, give it to this man's hand,
That he may also give the Gods their due;
For all men of the Gods in need do stand,
And I thought fit to give it first to you,
'Cause you are th' elder, th* other young as I.
Then Pallas from his hand received the cup,
And pleased was to see his equity,
And then to Neptune sent her prayers up.
Neptune, said she, have to my prayer regard;
First Nestor and his sons with honour bless,
And of his people th' hecatomb reward,
And give Telemachus and me success.
Thus prayed she, and gave for what she prayed,
And to Telemachus then gave the cup,
And he to Neptune the same prayer said.
The meat being ready now and taken up,
And into messes cut, themselves they feast,
And when of hunger extinct was the force,
Then to his guests Nestor his speech address'd:
Friends, said he, now we time have to discourse,
Tell me, Who are you ? whence dye cross the main ?
Is it for traffic ? Or d'ye pleasure take,
As pirates walk at sea, to and again,
Others to spoil to set your lives at stake ?
To this, Telemachus with confidence
(Which into him the Goddess did inspire,
The better to obtain intelligence,
And reputation to himself acquire)
Answer'd: O Nestor Nelëiades,
The glory of the Greeks, we hither came
From Ithaca on no state-business,
But of my father to seek news from Fame,
Unbless'd Ulysses, who at Ilium
Together with you fought before the town.
Of th' other chiefs we hear what is become,
But where Ulysses died is still unknown,
Whether at land he slain were by the foe,
Or by the sea devoured he hath been;
But at your knees we hither come to know,
What you since then have heard of him or seen,
Wand'ring about, born to calamity.
Let no respect, or pity mitigate
Your story, howsoever sad it be.
Nothing but naked truth to me relate.
And I beseech you, for my father's sake,
If he before the town of Troy did well
Perform the service he did undertake,
That nothing but the very truth you tell.
O friend, said Nestor, since you bring again
To memory our miseries at Troy,
Under Achilles first by sea, what pain
We suffer d then; and after, when we lay
And fought before King Priam's royal seat,
What we endured, what great men we lost;
The doughty Ajax, and Achilles great,
That were the chief of all the Argive host;
The valiant Patroclus, and my son
Antilochus, both valiant in fight,
And if an enemy were put to run
Before him, he could hardly 'scape by flight.
But numberless were our sad chances there;
No mortal man can count them one by one,
And if you five or six years should stay here,
You'd weary be of asking, and be gone.
Nine years we plots contriv'd to take the town,
Which Jove made prosperous with much ado.
Ulysses had for plotting the renown,
For none compared himself your father to:
If it be true you are Ulysses' son,
And I confess, hearing you speak your mind,
And steadfastly your person looking on,
Much respect for you in myself I find.
While we together were at Troy, we never
In council or assembly disagreed,
But what was for the Argives' good, we ever
Endeavoured what we could to get decreed.
But when of Troy we had destroyed the town,
And back unto our ships again were come,
Then Jove upon the Greeks began to frown,
Intending to them ill returning home,
For few there were amongst them just or wise,
But on themselves they drew down their own fate,
Which made the Goddess Pallas to devise
To set the two Atrides at debate.
Then of the people they a meeting call
At almost sunset, and the people came
(Having their heads with wine disordered all)
Th' Atrides told them why they call'd the same,
Where Menelaus votes to cross the seas,
And each man to his country to repass.
But this advice his brother did not please,
To stay there yet awhile his counsel was,
And first a hecatomb to sacrifice,
The Goddess Pallas' anger to appease.
But Agamemnon therein was not wise,
lIen cannot change the will o' th' Gods with ease.
While they contending were with words unmeet,
One part arose, resolv'd to stay all night,
And in the morn to go aboard the fleet,
And each one tow'rds his home to take his flight.
And shipp'd our captive women, and our prey,
One half we were, and came to Tenedus;
The other half with Agamemnon stay.
And Pallas then again divided us;
And one part back to Agamemnon went,
But I, with all my own ships, homeward fled,
Knowing that Jove to the Greeks evil meant;
So did the son of Tideus, Diomed.
At Lesbos to us Menelaus came,
Where we, which way to go, consulting staid,
Chius within, or else without the same,
And for direction to the Gods we pray'd.
O'er the wide sea t' Eubœa they bid sail,
That we in safety be the sooner might;
And sent us therewithal a lusty gale,
Which brought us to Gerestus when 'twas night,
And there to Neptune we burnt many thighs.
On the fourth day the ships of Diomed
To Argos came. The same wind staid i' th' skies
Till I at Pyle was safe delivered.
So came I home, sweet child, and cannot tell
Which of the Greeks came safe home, and which not.
But what has since been told me I know well,
And so far as is reason, you shall know't.
The Myrmidons, they say, came safely home,
Conducted by stout Neoptolemus.
And Philoctetes very well did come
Unto his father's house, Pallantius.
Idomeneus to Crete brought all his men
That were not slain at Ilium in fight.
How Agamemnon, when come home again,
Was butchered, I need not to recite;
Nor how he came, nor of Ægistus' plot,
Nor yet how bitterly he smarted for't.
'Tis good, you see, to have a son begot,
That can revenge his father in that sort.
And you, my friend, that tall are and well made,
Be valiant, and get 'mongst men good fame.
Telemachus then answered, and said:
O Nestor, but my case is not the same.
Sharp the revenge was of Atildes' son,
And far and wide will matter be for songs,
But from the Gods such power I have none,
To be revenged of the suitors' wrongs.
O friend, said Nestor, since I have been told
That many who your mother seek to marry,
Without your leave, do with your house make bold,
And spending of your substance daily tarry,
Is it because you are therewith content ?
Or arc you forc'd to bear such injury
Because your people are against you bent,
Provoked thereto by some divinity ?
But who knows but at last they may be paid
For all the injuries which they have done,
And insolence, by the Achaeans' aid,
Or peradventure by yourself alone ?
For if of you Pallas as careful were,
As carefully she did your father guide
At Troy (a God to man ne'er did appear
So plainly as she there stood by his side.)
If Pallas were so kind to you, you'd see
The suitors quickly would forget to woo.
Then said Telemachus, 'Twill never be,
Although the Gods should give consent thereto.
Telemachus, said Pallas, what a word
Have you let fall ? A man may be with ease,
Though far off, to his native soil restor'd
By any of the Gods, if so he please.
And I at home would rather lose my life
Fighting than sitting, as Atrides died,
Slain by Ægistus and his own bad wife,
Basely by them in whom he did confide.
And yet the Gods unable are to save
A man from death, although he be a friend,
Whose end the cruel Fates determin'd have.
Then said Telemachus, Let's make an end
Of this discourse. Ulysses' latest day
Determin'd by the Gods already is,
And I to Nestor somewhat else will say;
For three men's ages do but equal his.
O Nestor, I would fain informed be
How Agamemnon was of life deprived.
And Menelaus, where meanwhile was he ?
And how Ægistus had the plot contriv'd.
Was it that Menelaus too long stay'd,
Ægistus ventur'd on a better wight ?
I'll tell you all the truth, then Nestor said,
And yet what you yourself have guess'd is right.
For why, if Menelaus coming home
JEgistus in the house alive had found,
He never had at Argos had a tomb,
But eaten been by dogs above the ground,
And fowls of prey. Nor had he had the pity
Of the Argive women, nor lamented been,
But lain had i' th' fields far from the city.
For why, a viler act was never seen.
For when at Troy we ended had the strife,
Long time it was before we came away;
Then siege laid he to Agamemnon's wife,
And secretly hidden in Argos lay,
And she at first refus'd, and counsel took
Of a lcarn'd man, whom Agamemnon left
Going to Troy his wife to overlook,
But soon Ægistus him of life bereft;
For in a desert island he him kill'd,
And left him for a booty to the kites.
And then unto Ægistus she did yield,
And richly were performed the wedding rites.
Then on the altars many thighs they burn,
And with them rich men's baubles, and gold stuff,
For why, for so unhop'd-for a good turn,
They thought they could not thank the Gods enough.
Now coming Menelaus was and I,
And were as far come as to Sunium,
When Phrontis, his good steersman, chanc'd to die,
The best that in a storm ere ship brought home,
And hindrance of his coming this was some
To bury him. But when he put to sea,
And was with all his ships in safety come
Under the windy mountain of Males,
Then an ill passage for them Jove provided;
The wind then whistled, and the water danced,
And into two parts was the fleet divided;
And one part to the coast of Crete advanced,
Where Cydons dwell, near Jardan river's mouth.
There in the sea standeth a stone upright,
That breaks the water when it rolls from south,
So that it comes to Phaestus without might;
And there the men came in and sav'd their lives,
But all the ships upon the rock were split.
The other part the wind to Egypt drives
With Menelaus. Five ships were in it.
Whilst Menelaus did in Egypt stay,
And visit princes and their gifts receiv'd;
Ægistus made the Argives him obey,
And Agamemnon of his life bereav'd;
And sev'n years in Mycene reigned he.
But then Orestes came, whom they not knew,
From Athens to them unexpectedly,
And there the slayer of his father slew,
And feasted th' Argives at the funeral
Of him and her. That very day did come
King Menelaus, his ships laden all,
From Egypt, with his costly presents home.
And you, my friend, take heed you do not stay
Too long abroad, leaving your goods among
So many knaves that waste them ev'ry day,
And will consume them utterly ere long;
But go to Menelaus, who came last,
And wand'ring has among much people been.
A bird could hardly so much sea have pass'd
In a year's time, as wand'ring he has seen.
Therefore to Sparta go with ship and crew,
Or if by land, my coach is ready for ye.
Also my son shall go along with you,
And ask of Menelaus all his story.
He s wise. Besides the truth he'll nothing say.
This said, the sun was down, and dark the sky.
Nestor, said Pallas, you before us lay
That to which we have nothing to reply.
Now slit the tongues, and let wine temper'd be,
That we may offer to th' immortals all;
The light is gone, and need of sleep have we.
So Pallas said, and they to offering fall
The waiters then brought water for their hands,
And young men to them all brought temper'd wine.
The tongues lay on the fire, each one upstands
And offers wine unto the powers divine.
And when the offering was at an end,
Telemachus and Pallas were about
To go aboard, and there the night to spend.
But Nestor on the other side cried out,
The Gods forbid that you should lie aboard,
As if I were a man so rude or poor
As not good bedding for a friend t' afford.
Since then I have of rugs and bedding store,
And many sons alive with me at home,
That able are my friends to entertain,
And 'tis Ulysses' son that's to me come,
Surely this night he shall with me remain.
O Nestor, then said Pallas, that is right,
And at your house to lodge for him 'tis best.
But at the ship I needs must lie this night,
His purpose to make known to all the rest.
Amongst them there no old man is but I,
The company t' encourage that expect
Telemachus. Not with authority,
But my advice they'll follow for respect.
The next day with the Caucons I must be,
About an old and not a little debt.
And then that he may Menelaus see,
With strong swift horses on his way him set.
This said, the Goddess Pallas went away,
In likeness of an eagle to the skies.
The people star'd, and knew not what to say,
And Nestor wond'ring saw it with his eyes,
And took Telemachus by th' hand, and said,
A good man you will be, Telemachus,
And valiant, that are by a God convoy'd;
And this same God that guided you to us,
Is none but Pallas, daughter of great Jove,
That did at Troy your father always guide.
Let me and mine, O Goddess, have your love,
And amongst men a noble fame and wide;
A heifer on your altar shall be laid
That ne'er bare yoke, a yearling from the field ;
And gilt shall be her horns. So Nestor pray'd.
And Pallas hearing, to his prayer did yield.
And Nestor to his house then led them all,
Both sons and sons-in-law, and being there,
They sat on chairs and couches in the hall;
Then Nestor bids one fill the temperer
With wine that aged was eleven year,
From out a vessel first uncover'd then.
And when the wine and water mixed were,
Then Nestor pray'd and offered. And when
The off'rings to the Goddess ended were,
The rest unto their lodgings went away.
Telemachus by Nestor stay'd was there,
And in a soft and costly bed he lay;
And near unto him lay Pisistratus,
Who of the sons of Nestor was the last.
And Nestor in the inmost part of th' house,
Where, by the queen his wife, his bed was plac'd.
Soon as Aurora did the day restore,
The old knight Nestor rose up from his bed,
And sat upon the bench before the door,
Of marble white and smooth that glistened.
His father used to sit there before,
King Neleus, but that since he was dead,
And that King Nestor now the sceptre bore,
There sat he now, and to him gathered
Were all his sons, Echephron, Stratius,
Perseus, Aretus, godlike Thrasymed,
Pisistratus. (Dead was Antilochus.)
Along with them Telemachus they led.
Then to his children Nestor spake and said :
Do quickly, sons, what you shall from me hear.
A vow I made to Pallas must be paid,
Who did to me so visibly appear.
Let one of you unto the pastures hie
And bid a herdsman bring a heifer home ;
One to Telemachus his ship quickly,
And bid his mates, save two, all hither come;
Another bid the gilder hither come,
To gild the sacred heifer's horns with speed;
The rest stay here to look to things at home,
That all things may be ready that we need,
Seats, dry wood, and fair water. So said he,
Then busy were they all. The heifer came,
And all Telemachus his company.
The glider came, Laerces was his name,
And every tool that to his art belongs,
And necessary is, had in his hands;
His anvil, and his hammer, and his tongs.
And Pallas also now amongst them stands.
Then fell the man to work on Nestor's gold,
And so elaborate it was when done,
That it might please the Goddess to behold.
Then came in Stratius and Echephron,
And by the horns they led the heifer in.
The basin and the ewer, and barley white,
Aretus brought; and with an axe full keen
Stood Thrasymed ready the beast to smite.
Then Nestor pray'd, and from the heifer's head
Cut off some hair, and into th' fire it threw.
Then prayed the rest; and barley sprinkled
Upon the fire, and Thrasymed then slew
The heifer with his axe, and cut in twain
The tendons of the neck, and down she fell;
And Nestor's wife and daughters shout amain
To see the sacred act performed well.
Pisistratus then cuts the victim's throat,
And up they held it to let out the blood
Into a pail which Perseus thither brought,
And to that purpose ready with it stood.
The life together with the blood outflies.
Then from the body they the bowels draw,
And next cut off the shoulders and the thighs,
As is of sacrifice the ritual law;
And them slit into two parts they display,
And cover them all over with sweet fat,
Shoulder on shoulder, thigh on thigh they lay,
And Nestor on the altar burneth that;
And with it on the fire black wine he poured.
By him a spit was ready with five points.
The fire the thighs, the men th' entrails devoured,
The rest divided was in smaller joints,
To roast on spits. Telemachus the while
Into the bath retired, and was there
Well bathed, and anointed with sweet oil
By Polycaste, Nestor's daughter dear,
And in a robe and coat clad gloriously,
And came, as if no mortal he had been,
Into the hall, and sat down Nestor by.
The meat now ready straightway was brought in.
Then in the young men came to fill them wine.
When they with flesh and wine were satisfied,
Then to his sons said Nestor, Children mine,
The horses to the coach see quickly tied.
Away they go, and to the coach they set
The horses swift; and in it bread and wine
A maid laid in, and with it choicest meat,
Which none but god-fed kings eat when they dine.
Up to the seat then went Telemachus
(The seat was large and capable of two)
And after him went up Pisistratus,
And whip and reins he took his hands into.
Touch'd with the whip, the horses take the way,
And all the day long made their harness shake.
The sun went down, dark were the streets. Then they
At Pherme were. And there their rest they take.
There Diodes, Orsilochus his son,
Son of Alphaeus them did entertain,
And with fair gifts presented them each one.
But soon as morning did appear again,
Their horses to the coach again they tie,
And from the porch drive them into the way,
Touched with the whip again away they fly.
The sun now down, and ended was the day.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. IV.
His entertainment in Sparta, where Menelaus tells him what befel many of the Greeks in their return; that Ulysses was with Calypso in the isle Ogygia, as he was told by Proteus.
AND then to Lacedaemon come were they,
And drove up to the house of Menelaus.
At home they found him, for there on that day
A double wedding celebrated was.
One of his daughters, fair Hermione,
Whom he before at Troy had promised
Of Neoptolemus the wife should be,
And on this day the same accomplished,
And her he sent unto the Myrmidons,
Where reigned he. To Pthia she was brought.
And then the second wedding was his son's,
Whom on a bond-woman he had begot,
And Megapenthes nam'd (for Helen's bed
Fruitless was after fair Hermione);
And he Alector's daughter married,
Of Lacedaemon citizen was he.
And now they merry sat that bidden were,
Making good cheer, and hearing voice and fiddle,
And wond'ring at two tumblers that were there,
That moving to the time stood in the middle.
Meanwhile by th' horses, th' utter gate without,
Telemachus stood and Pisistratus.
Then Eteoneus by chance came out,
A careful servant of Menelaus.
And, having seen them, in he went again,
And being near to where his master sate,
O king, said he, there are without two men,
Like great mens sons, with their coach at the gate;
Shall I take out their horses, or shall I
Tell them where they may lodged be elsewhere ?
At this, Atrides, grieved, made reply:
Eteoneus, sure once you wiser were;
Have we not oft by strangers heretofore,
In our necessity relieved been ?
And I pray God it may be so no more.
Go, loose the horses, and the men bring in.
This said, he went again, with servants more,
Takes out the horses, ties them to the mangers,
And throws before them provender good store;
Sets up the coach, and then brings in the strangers,
Who at the beauty of the house amazed,
(For bright it shined as the moon or sun).
And when they had sufficiently gazed,
To where the bathing-room was, walked on.
After they were well washed and anointed,
And clothed with soft nappy cloak and coat,
That they should near him sit the king appointed,
And near unto his throne their chairs were brought.
A maid the golden bason and the ewer
To wash their hands, over a cauldron brings.
(The cauldron also was of silver pure);
Another on the table laid good things,
Another bread. The carver also cuts
Of every sort of meat the choicest bits,
And them on trenchers on the table puts.
And Menelaus, pointing to it, sits,
And heartily invites them to fall to.
Eat now, said he, we shall have time enough
When you have supp'd, to ask you where and who ?
Your ancestors are not obscure I know,
Such children are not got by wretched men.
And as he spake he took from his own mess
As much as both his hands could comprehend
Of good chine-beef, and gave it to these guests,
And then they laid their hands upon their meat.
But when their hunger and their thirst was gone,
Telemachus, that near sat to his seat,
Whispered Pisistratus, You, Nestor's son,
Do you not mark the splendour in this house,
Of brass, gold, amber, silver, ivory ?
Such sure the house is of Olympius,
So many and so glorious things I see.
But Menelaus heard him. Let, said he,
No mortal man with Jupiter compare;
His house decays not, nor goods wasted be.
What men compare with me I do not care;
For why, my goods I paid for very dear,
With pain and peril in my coming home,
And wand'ring up and down at sea eight year,
Before I could into my country come.
I was in Cyprus and Phœnicia,
Came to the Cydons and Erembians,
To Egypt, and to Ethiopia,
And to the fertile ground o' th' Libyans,
Where ev'ry year the sheep three times do breed,
And all the lambs fall homed from the dam;
Nor master nor his man there stands in need
Of cheese or milk, or tender flesh of lamb.
While I my goods amongst them wand'ring got,
I lost my brother, by his wife betrayed,
And therefore in my riches glory not.
And all this to you have your fathers said.
Absent, I lost my house, and much rich stuff;
Had I my fellows sav'd I led to Troy,
I'd been content with the third part thereof.
So, all to all, I've little cause of joy:
For all my friends at Troy lost griev'd was I,
And sometimes wept, yet sometimes also not,
For quick of tears is the satiety.
But one there is, when he is in my thought,
I neither food nor sleep desire to take;
For all the while we were besieging Troy,
None suffer'd so much for the Argives' sake
As did Ulysses, nor so oft did pray.
And more, perhaps, he is to suffer yet;
Long stays he, and whether alive or dead
He be, I can from no man notice get,
Nor from my sorrow be delivered.
Meanwhile, as for a son of life bereft,
Laertes weeps; so does Penelope.
Telemachus, whom young Ulysses left,
Spends his best age in pain and misery.
This said, Telemachus before his eyes
Held up his purple robe, the tears to hide,
Drawn from him by his father's miseries.
And Menelaus, when he that espied,
Considered whether best it were or no
To tell him first what he had heard or seen
About his father, or what he would know
To let him ask. But Helen then came in,
Like to Diana in great majesty.
Adreste came in with her, with a chair;
Alcippe a soft carpet layed nigh;
Her basket brought in was by Phylo fair.
At Thebes, in Egypt, it was given her
By Polybus his wife, Alcandre, when
King Menelaus travelling was there;
And Polybus gave to him talents ten
Of gold, and lavers two of silver fine,
And two three-footed cauldrons of good brass.
Then by Alcandre t' Helena divine,
A silver-brim gilt basket given was,
With fine and curiously-spun thread press'd full,
With distaff on it, more thread yet to spin,
Ready invested with soft purple wool.
This was the basket Phylo then brought in.
Then Helen sat, and by her husband told
What hitherto had pass'd: I know, said she,
King Menelaus, now I them behold,
The guests that are come to you, who they be.
But shall I tell you what I think, or no ?
Ill tell you true. I never yet saw one
So like another, as this man is to
Telemachus, Ulysses' only son,
Whom, when with other Greeks to Ilium
He went, to fetch away this monkey, me,
By bloody war, he left a child at home.
Then Menelaus spake: Since you, said he,
Have put it in my mind, I think so too.
His eyes, his feet, his hands, his head, his hair,
Are like Ulysses', who I'd tell now you
What misery for me he suffer'd there,
But that it makes him weep, and hide his eyes.
Then to Atrides said Pisistratus,
The truth to you, O king, I'll not disguise;
This is Ulysses' son, Telemachus,
But jealous of his tongue, and fearful is,
Before a man experienc'd and wise,
Lest he should say something at first amiss,
And lay his weakness open to your eyes.
Nestor sent me along with him for guide,
Because he so much longed you to see,
And hear what of his father was betide,
And by you holpen and instructed be.
Unhappy is the child whose father's gone,
And this is now Telemachus his case;
For of Ulysses news he can hear none,
Who to defend him left none in his place.
How, how! then said Atrides, I have here
The son of one that I esteemed most,
And for my sake suffer'd and did more there
Than any other in the Argive host;
To whom I meant, had we come safely home,
To shew more kindness than to any one
Of all the Greeks? As soon as we were come,
I had to Argos brought him and his son,
Built them a city, made both but one state,
And laid the cities round about us waste;
And often there with one another sate,
And only death our friendship had displaced.
But by the Gods these thoughts are rendered vain ;
They have Ulysses from his country kept.
This said, they could from tears no more abstain.
Jove's daughter, Argive Helena, then wept,
And Menelaus and Telemachus;
Nor could Pisistratus his tears restrain,
But on his brother thought, Antilochus,
That by the fair Aurora's son was slain,
And him rememb'ring, to Atrides spake:
Atrides, oft have I heard Nestor tell,
(As oft as we did of you mention make)
That you 'mongst men in wisdom do excel.
I pray you think not I take any pleasure
To act at supper-time the rites of mourning;
For that another time we shall have leisure,
Unless we look no more to see the morning.
Not that I weeping for the dead condemn,
Or cutting off of hair. It is a debt
We owe to our dead friends. And one of them
My brother is, whom I cannot forget.
He was not of the Greeks the meanest man ;
For swift he was of foot, and bold in fight,
(Which you than I much better witness can)
To kill his foe in battle or in flight.
Dear friend, Atrides answer'd, you have said
What might an older man have well beseemed
To say and do; and Nestor's stock bewray'd,
Whose wisdom is of all men's most esteemed.
'Tis easy to discern the race of one
To whom a happy life the Gods shall grant,
As unto noble Nestor they have done,
Long life, and sons discreet and valiant.
Let's put off for the present tales of sorrow,
And to our meat again our minds apply.
Bring water for our hands. Betimes to-morrow
Well talk of this, Telemachus and I.
This said, Asphalion came in with water.
They wash'd, and on the meat their hands they laid;
But in the meantime Helena, Jove's daughter,
An antidote into the wine convey'd,
An antidote that virtue had to keep
The man that drank it mixed with his wine,
So as for all that day he should not weep,
Nor for whatever should befall him whine ;
No, though his father or his mother died,
Or friend or brother slain were in his sight
By cruel enemies that them envied.
Such was of Helen's medicine the might,
Which t' her in Egypt Thon's wife given had,
Where many drugs of wondrous virtue grow,
Some here, some there, and some good, and some bad,
For all men there the art of physic know ;
For why, from Paean sprung are all those men.
The antidote put in, she bad the wine
Be borne about. And then she said again:
King Menelaus, offspring of Gods divine,
Descended from the Gods are also these;
And Jove good fortune gives sometimes to one,
And sometimes to another, as he please,
For he can do whatever can be done.
Feast then, and merrily together sit,
And please yourselves with stories. I'll tell one,
And which as to the time is not unfit,
Of what at Troy was by Ulysses done.
I will not tell you all the pranks he play'd,
But only how he came into the town,
With canvas mantle o'er his shoulders laid,
Bloody with stripes, from no hand but his own;
And by the name of Dectes there did pass,
And as a slave went freely up and down,
When such man in the fleet at all none was,
And was to every one but me unknown.
I questioned him, and he at first was shy;
But when I bath'd him and anointed had,
And cloth'd, and ta'en an oath of secresy,
He told me what design the Argives had.
Then, having gotten much intelligence,
And many of the Trojan people slain,
He safely to the fleet departed thence,
Leaving their wives lamenting there in vain.
But I was glad; for changed had my mind,
And griev'd, by Venus t' have been made so mad,
To leave my child Hermione behind,
And my good husband, when no cause I had.
Then Menelaus said: Your story, wife,
Is to the purpose. Countries I have seen
Many; and oft with heroes, in my life,
In councils sitten ; but was never in
The place where any like Ulysses sat.
I' th' wooden horse I'll tell you what he did,
(No man did ever such a thing as that);
The princes of the army there lay hid,
Death and destruction bearing into Troy.
Some demon then, that was no friend to us,
Made you come forth, our council to destroy,
And with you also came Deiphobus.
And thrice about the wooden horse you went,
And called to us ev'ry man by name,
And our wives' voices so did represent,
As not to be discerned from the same.
I' th' midst Ulysses, Diomed, and I,
Heard well your call as we together sat,
And ready were to go forth, or reply ;
But by Ulysses hinderd were of that.
But Anticlus had answer'd certainly,
Had not Ulysses, when he heard her call,
Laid hand upon his mouth immediately,
And held till you were gone. That sav'd us all.
'Twas much, then said Telemachus, but this
Was not enough the man alive to keep,
Though made of steel, whose end determin'd is;
But now, O king, the time is come for sleep.
Then Helen to her women order gave
To see their beds made ready, and lay on
Fair purple rugs, and under them to have
Soft blankets, and fine coverlids upon,
Before the house, in chamber o'er the gate.
But in the inmost of the palace lay
King Menelaus with his royal mate,
And rose again together with the day.
And when he had himself attir'd and shod,
And hung his trusty sword had by his side,
Out of his chamber came he like a God,
And to Telemachus himself applied.
Telemachus, said he, what bringeth you
To Lacedaemon, o'er the sea so wide ?
Public or private bus'ness ? Tell me true.
Telemachus unto him then replied:
To you, King Menelaus, I am come
T' enquire what of my father is betide.
My house is full of enemies at home,
That me consume; and there resolve t' abide.
I' th' fields they fruitless make my husbandry;
My stock they eat; and would my mother wed.
This made me come to know the certainty,
Whether my father be alive or dead;
Whether you saw him after he left Troy
Wand'ring abroad (for he was born to woe),
Or of him anything heard others say,
Let tenderness hide nothing that you know.
It in the Argive host he useful were,
In council or in battle, when need was,
Tell me the truth, be't never so severe.
To this, much grieved, answer'd Menelaus.
Yes, yes, said he, there many enter'd be
Into a strong man's house while he's away,
And are in hope to dwell there constantly,
Though not so valiant as he be they.
As when a stag and hind entering the den
Of th' absent lion, lulls his whelps with tales
Of hills and dales, the lion comes again,
And tears them into pieces with his nails;
So shall Ulysses all those suitors slay.
O that the Gods, Apollo, Pallas, Jove,
Amongst the suitors let him would one day,
Such as when with Philomelid he strove,
And threw him flat, and made the Argives glad.
If such as then Ulysses should be there,
Short would their lives be, and their wedding bad.
But to the matter whereof you would hear,
I can say nothing upon certainty,
And my own knowledge, but what I was told
By Proteus. And tell I will no lie,
Nor anything of what he said withhold.
Before the land of Egypt Pharos lies,
An island, and therein a haven good
Against whatever wind shall chance to rise;
And ready to depart, my ships there stood;
A day's sail distant stands it in the main;
But 'cause the hecatomb I offer'd not,
The Gods a long time did me there detain,
For they are angry when they are forgot.
There twenty days together we were pent,
Though fain we would have put again to sea;
And our provision had quite been spent,
But that I then met with Idothoë.
She daughter is of Proteus, and he
A herdsman old of Neptune is, and has
The charge his sea-calves kept and fed to see.
His daughter met me when alone I was ;
My company, their dinner to provide,
With angle rods were fishing on the strand.
Then said she to me, standing by my side,
Why stay you here, and nothing take in hand
To help yourself, as if a child you were,
Or negligent, or loved misery,
Suff'ring yourself to be so long pent here ?
Or can you no way find to be set free ?
What God you be soever, answer'd I,
Thus much unto you I must plainly say,
That in this isle I stay unwillingly,
And for my freedom to the Gods I pray.
But tell me you (for Gods know everything)
What God is it that to this place me tied,
And what it is that must me from it bring ?
I'll tell you then, said she, and nothing hide.
By an old Sea-God haunted is this isle,
Call'd Proteus, that nothing says untrue,
Servant to Neptune, whom if by some wile
You could but catch and hold, he'd answer you
To all you ask, and he my father is.
He'll tell you how to get your ships to sea,
And how you shall get home. He knows all this.
And what's there done. So said Idothoë.
But how, said I, is't possible for man
Upon a God immortal to lay hold,
When he, foreseeing it, avoid it can,
If how to do't he be not by you told ?
Ill tell you, said she, how it may be done.
Hidden in the curls of the sea each day
Brought in by Zephyrus, he lands at noon,
And on the sand himself to sleep will lay;
About him will his footless sea-calves lie,
And of the brine abominably smell.
And thither bring you in the morn will I,
And how to place yourselves instruct you well;
For three more must come with you, lusty men,
Whom you shall choose from out your company.
The old Sea-God his flock will number then,
And, having done, i' th' midst of them will lie,
Just as a shepherd lies amongst his sheep.
Now waver not, but bold and constant be.
As soon as you shall see he is asleep,
Lay hold on him, and keep it constantly,
For he in divers shapes will with you struggle.
He will be any serpent that he please;
Himself he'll into fire or water juggle ;
Therefore hold fast, lest he your hands disease.
When of himself he shall contented be,
In his first form the matter to debate,
Take off your hands, and set the old God free.
Then of your business him interrogate,
What God it is that hath your hurt contrived,
How you shall put to sea, which way go home.
This said, into the sea again she dived.
Then, full of thoughts, back to my ships I come,
And supp'd, and when we supped had 'twas night.
Then slept we by our ships upon the sand,
But when Aurora had brought back the light,
Then went I with my three men to the strand,
And prayed to the Gods: my men I chose,
Such men as for the purpose fit I thought.
Idothoë then from the sea arose,
And in her hand four sea-calves' skins she brought
All raw, her father thereby to betray.
And with those skins upon us on the shore,
Scrap'd hollow by her, like sea-calves we lay,
And there our lodging had been very sore,
(For so abominably do they stink,
That no man near them can endure to lie.
Is it good lying with a whale, dye think ?)
But that she for it had a remedy.
Ambrosia she with her brought, and laid
The same unto our noses one by one,
Which the ill savour of the fish allay'd.
And thus we lay expecting till 'twas noon ;
Then all at once the sea-calves came ashore,
And there themselves they bedded orderly.
At noon came Proteus, and counts them o'er,
And first were counted my three men and I.
Then lay he also down, and by and by
He fell asleep. Then we unto him ran,
And laid hands on him with a hideous cry,
And he to shew his wondrous art began.
A shaggy lion first he seem'd to be;
And then a dragon ; then a leopard ;
And then a boar; then water; then a tree ;
But still we kept our hold, and press'd him hard.
He weary was at last, and then he said:
Atrides, how came you by so much skill
To hold me thus ? What God has me betray'd ?
What needed you to vex me ? What's your will ?
What need, said I, have you from me to hear,
That bound am to this isle, and know not how
To put to sea, nor what God holds me here,
When you can tell me (for Gods all things know)?
Then back, said he, to Greece you cannot come,
Till you to Egypt do return again,
And pay to all the Gods a hecatomb;
That done, you shall pass safely o'er the main.
Thus Proteus said. But that I must go first
Back into Egypt, an ill and long way,
My heart to hear it ready was to burst.
'Tis hard, said I, but I'll do all you say;
But tell me of the Argives first, if they
With their good ships came all in safety home,
That I and Nestor left behind at Troy,
How many by the way they lost, and whom ?
Some of them 'scap'd, said he, and some are lost;
But of the princes lost are only twain
In their return. Upon the Trojan coast
You know who died; and one the Gods detain.
First Ajax' ships by winds are laid aground
At Gyre, rocks that on the deep look down,
And 'gainst the sea protection there had found,
However Pallas did upon him frown,
But that a high provoking word he spake.
I'll pass, said he, although the Gods say no.
And Neptune then the rock he sat on brake;
Both he and it into the water go,
Where, when he had drunk brine enough, he died.
Your brother also safely pass'd the sea,
And came to Argos (Juno was his guide).
And when he was come near to mount Males,
Forc'd by foul weather, he disbarked, where
Thyestes formerly his age had spent,
But now his son JEgistus dwelled there.
The Gods then chang'd the wind, and homeward went.
Full glad he was, and kiss'd the ground for joy,
And from him fell the tears abundantly.
Ægistus, that long sought him to destroy,
Had plac'd a man on purpose to descry
Th' arrival of the fleet, whom he had hired
To watch upon a hill a year together,
For talents ten of gold, that he required,
And tell him when the fleet from Troy came thither.
The watchman saw them, and t' Ægistus went,
And gave him notice of their coming in.
Ægistus then, t' effect his bad intent,
Chose twenty lusty men, and them within
An inner room he placed, out of sight,
And a great supper bids his men provide;
Then down went, Agamemnon to invite,
With horses and with coaches to th' sea-side,
And brought him up to supper in great state;
Then rose the traitors that in ambush lay,
And killed him, as he at supper sate,
Nor any man alive went thence away,
That with Atrides or with him took part.
When of his story he had made an end,
To break with pity ready was my heart;
In streams down on my cheeks the tears descend.
I wished never more to see the sun,
And weeping, on the sand myself I roll'd.
But when my lamentation was done,
Then Proteus said again, Your weeping hold,
Tears are no remedy, but make haste home.
There lives Ægistus, or if he be slain
Already by Orestes, you will come
To his interment. This cheer'd me again,
And then I asked further of turn this:
Since you have told me what's become of two,
Tell me the third that stays abroad, who 'tis,
Alive or dead, though that will grieve me too.
It is, said he, Ulysses, whom I saw
In th' island where Calypso dwells, o' th' shore
Weeping, who fain would come to Ithaca,
But with him neither has a ship nor oar.
And you, O Menelaus, shall not die
In Argos (for 'tis otherwise decreed)
But be conveyed t' Elysium. For why,
Of Jupiter you wedded have the seed.
There humans lead their lives in greatest ease ;
No snow nor frost there is; refreshed there
They are by zephyrs rising from the seas,
And Jove's son Rhadamanthus dwelleth there.
This said, into the sea he went again,
But I, with thoughts confused in my head,
Returned back unto my ships and men,
And soon as we had supp'd, the night was spread.
Then back again into the Nile we go,
And offer'd to the Gods a hecatomb;
When we their anger had appeased so,
For Agamemnon there we rais'd a tomb.
When this was done, for Argos we set sail,
And quickly to our native soil we came;
Th' immortal Gods gave us a lusty gale,
And all the way continued the same.
Telemachus, you've heard all I can say,
But must not therefore straightway take your leave;
Until th' eleventh or twelfth day you'll stay,
The presents I intend you to receive.
A chariot you shall have and horses three,
And a fair cup emboss'd to offer wine,
That in your vows you may remember me.
Then said Telemachus, I here have lien
Long time already, and my men at Pyle
Are weary of expecting me; else I
Could stay a year, and never all that while
My mind have on my house or family,
So much I taken am with your discourse.
But let my present be some monument;
To Ithaca I'll never carry horse,
They for the plains are more convenient;
Large plains, which you have here in many places,
And where store is of wheat, and rice, and lote.
In Ithaca there is no ground for races,
Nor pastures good enough to feed a goat.
In th' isles about it, gallop can no horse;
In th' isle itself, nor gallop nor be fed.
When be had made an end of his discourse,
Atrides, smiling on him, strok'd his head.
'Tis spoken, said he, like a gallant man,
And that descended is of noble blood.
I'll give you other presents, for I can,
In place of these, that shall be full as good.
A monument kept in my treasury,
Of massive silver a fair temperer,
The work of Vulcan, which was given me
At Sidon, by the king, when I was there.
Whilst they together thus discoursing staid,
The bidden guests, fat sheep, rich wine bring in,
And bread their wives upon the table laid,
And about supper busy were within.
And now the suitors at Ulysses' house
Were throwing of the stone and darts. And by
Antinous sat and Eurymachus,
Chief of the woo'ra. Then came Noemon nigh:
Unto Antinous he spake, and said,
When will Telemachus return from Pyle ?
My ship I lent him, and am now afraid
I shall have need of her myself the while.
For over into Elis I must pass;
Twelve mares of mine there go, and with the same
Twelve unbroke mules, with all their foals, at grass;
And some of them I would fetch home and tame.
At this they star'd. For never dreamed they
That in good earnest he would go to Pyle,
But in the fields would with some herdsman stay,
And there from us conceal himself awhile.
Antinous then ask'd, When parted he ?
What company went with him hence ? His own
Servants and husbandmen, for that might be,
Or young men of the best account i' th' town ?
And tell me further, was it willingly
You lent your ship, or were you forced thereto?
To this Noemon did again reply:
I lent it willingly. What should I do ?
Who would not yield to such a man's request,
When he has need and asks, as well as I ?
And with him went of Ithaca the best,
And Mentor chief of all the company;
If he it were not, 'twas some deity,
For, which is strange, I saw him yesterday
Before the sun was mounted half the sky,
Yet went the ship the night before away.
This said, he went his way. Antinous
And th' others sat there yet, and wondered.
The suitors left their sport, sat down; and thus
Antinous the case then opened,
And in an angry tone, with fiery eye,
'Tis true, said he, Telemachus has done
A work to us of great indignity.
We thought he never could that way have gone.
We many are, and men ; yet he, a boy,
Has got a ship, and of our men the best.
But may Jove him, before he us, destroy.
Give me a good ship, ere we be oppress'd,
And twenty able men, and in the strait
'Twixt Ithaca and Same I will lie,
And for their coming back from Pylus wait,
And entertain him with hot coming by.
The suitors all were pleased with the plot,
And then they rose together and went in.
But Medon had heard all, which they knew not,
For he without the court was, they within.
And to inform Penelope he went,
And when she saw him coming in a door,
Medon, said she, what, are you hither sent
To bid my maids trouble themselves no more
With how the suitors they shall entertain;
But only for themselves make ready meat ?
Lest when they hither come to sup again,
It prove the last that they shall ever eat.
Telemachus his wealth you wasted have,
As if your fathers never told you how
Ulysses with them did himself behave,
That never did unkindness to them show
In deed or word. Although a liberty
Kings often take, one man to love or hate
Above another, without telling why;
But he cause of offence to no man gave.
But of good turns received heretofore
Your nature altogether senseless is.
O queen, said Medon, would it were no more;
But I must tell you somewhat worse than this.
The suitors have conspir'd to kill your son,
(Which Jove avert,) as he is coming home.
For he to Pylus is and Sparta gone
T' enquire what of his father is become.
This said, Penelope was stricken dumb,
And filled were with tears her eyes. But when
Her voice at last again was to her come,
She spake to Medon, and him asked then,
Medon, said she, why went my son away ?
What need had he upon the sea to ride ?
Meant he his name amongst men to destroy ?
And Medon to her then again replied:
I cannot tell. Perhaps encouraged
By some o' th' Gods, or presage of his own
T' enquire about his father, whether dead,
Or on what coast he is by fortune thrown.
This said, her tears she could no longer hold,
And lets herself sink down upon the sill.
Then came her maids about her, young and old.
Did ever Gods, said she, bear such ill will
To any woman as they bear to me ?
Why deal they worse with me than with the rest?
O my dear husband ! What a man was he!
All manly virtues lodged in his breast.
Through Hellas and through Argos known was he;
Of him the Gods unkind me first bereft;
And now away my child must taken be,
That to sustain the house at home was left.
Sluts that you are, and of his going knew,
Why was it not to me discovered ?
For had I of it been inform'd by you,
I had him stayed, or he had left me dead.
To Dolius let one or other
(The servant which my father gave to me,
And with Laertes at the lodge is now,
And of my garden has the custody)
And tell him what the suitors are about,
That he may to Laertes tell the same;
And he unto the people may come out,
And them against these wicked men inflame.
Then spake Euryclea: Dear child, said she,
Kill me, or let me live as you think best;
No longer shall the truth concealed be.
I knew all this. So did none of the rest.
I furnished him with all that he commanded,
Sweet wine and flour, but first he made me swear,
I would not tell you till it was demanded,
Or that the same by others told you were;
For fear lest with much weeping hurt you take.
But wash, put on clean garments, and up go
Into your chamber, and your prayers make
To Pallas, who your son to save knows how.
The griev'd old man, why should you further grieve ?
Hated is not Arcesius his seed
By all the Gods. For I cannot believe
But some of them will help them in their need,
And both their houses and their lands protect.
This stopp'd her sobbing, and her weeping stay'd.
Then went she up, herself she wash'd and deck'd,
And to the Goddess Pallas thus she pray'd:
O Goddess, if you well accepted have
The victims by Ulysses sacrificed
Upon your altar here, his son now save,
And bring to nought what th' wooers have devised.
Her prayer granted was. Then shouted they.
The suitors heard it in the hall, and one
T' another said, 'Tis for her wedding-day;
She knows not we intend to kill her son.
Thus said they, but upon no ground at all.
Alcinous then spake. Madmen, said he,
Such words as these what mean you to let fall ?
What if within they should reported be ?
Come rise, thus, gently, and the work effect
To which we all have given our consent.
Then did he twenty able men elect,
And down unto the water side they went,
And first of all they laid their ship afloat,
And in it with white sails the mast they laid,
And fit their oars. Then in their arms were brought:
The mast then rear'd was, and the sails display'd.
Then went they t' anchor in the open sea,
And stay'd all night. And then aboard they eat.
Then to her chamber went Penelope
Grieving, and tasting neither drink nor meat,
Casting about whether more likely 't were
Her son should 'scape the suitors' hands, or die.
Just as a lion that enclosed were
With toils about, would cast which way to fly.
When her sad reck'ning sleep had blotted out,
Dissolv'd her strength, and closed had her eyes,
Pallas another bus'ness went about.
She made an Idol in a woman's guise,
Like to the daughter of Icarius,
Wife of Eumelus, (at Pherae dwell'd he),
And sent the same unto Ulysses' house,
T' allay the sorrow of Penelope.
In at the keyhole then the Idol goes
Into her chamber, and stood at her head.
Penelope, said it, amidst such woes
How can you sleep ? But now be comforted.
You must no longer weep nor grieved be,
For from the Gods you no such cause shall have,
For of your son the safe return you'll see.
To this Penelope then answer gave.
Sister, said she, 'tis strange to see you here;
You come but seldom. For far off you dwell.
And now you bid me weeping to forbear,
When how much cause I have you cannot tell.
A good and noble husband I have lost,
That had a lion's heart within his breast,
Hellas and Argos of his valour boast,
What virtue is there that he not possessed ?
And now my child at sea is in a tub,
And has no skill in fight or parliament:
I fear extremely lest he meet some rub,
For him more than for th' other I lament.
What may befal him on the sea I dread,
And what at land, if e'er to land he come,
For many foes he hath that wish him dead,
And wait to kill him as he cometh home.
To this again replied the Idol dim,
Take courage, be not frighted for your son ;
He has a guide that taketh care of him;
A better would be wished for by none.
'Tis Pallas. For of you she pity takes,
And what I said, I said by her command.
Penelope again this answer makes,
Whoe'er you be, answer one more demand:
Is my poor husband yet alive, or no ?
Then said the Idol, That I do not find,
Nor will I tell you what I do not know.
Then through the keyhole went, and tum'd to wind.
Then wak'd Penelope, and joyful was
T' have had a dream so evident and clear.
Then o'er the humid plain the suitors pass,
Destruction to Telemachus to bear.
'Twixt Ithaca and Same, middle way,
There lies an island, and but small it is,
Yet hath it on each side a good safe bay.
There watch'd the wooers. 'Tis call'd Asteris.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. V.
The Gods in council corn. mand Calypso (by Mercury) to send away Ulysses on a raft of trees; and Neptune returning from Ethiopia, and seeing him on the coast of Phaeacia, scattered his raft ; and how, by the help of Ino, he swam ashore,and slept in a heap of dry leaves till the next day.
Up rose Aurora from Tithonus' bed,
Before the Gods and men to bear her light.
The Gods were then to council gathered,
And Jove amongst them of the greatest might.
And there before them Pallas open laid
The painful life Ulysses did endure.
O Jove, and all ye blessed Gods, she said,
Henceforth his people let no king enure
To gentle government, but keep them down,
And to their honesty no longer trust,
That of Ulysses are forgetful grown,
Whose government so gentle was and just.
And now he pent up lieth in an isle
Where dwells Calypso ; and to come away
Has neither ship nor men, and all the while
Weeping for sorrow forc'd he is to stay.
The suitors also seek to kill his son,
And lie to meet him in his coming home;
For why, to Pyle and Sparta he is gone,
To hear what of his father is become.
Why, child, said Jove, why say you this to me ?
'Twas you that sent Telemachus away ;
And you consenting were to our decree,
Ulysses should come back and th' wooers slay.
Go you and bring Telemachus from Pyle,
And send the suitors home that lie in's way;
And Mercury, said he, go you the while
And tell the nymph Calypso what I say.
The Gods in council sitting ordered have,
Ulysses shall return to Ithaca.
And first upon a raft himself shall save,
Without a convoy in Phaeacia
In twenty days; and there be honoured,
And to his country richly sent away,
With brass, and gold, and garments furnished,
More than his share had mounted to at Troy,
Though he had brought it thence all safely home;
For why, by destiny ordain'd it is
That to his friends he honourably come.
No sooner Jupiter had spoken this,
But that his shoes upon his feet he binds,
Ambrosian, golden shoes, wherewith he flies
On land or water, swifter than the winds.
Then takes the rod wherewith upon the eyes
Of mortals he lays on or takes off sleep,
And with his rod in hand j ump'd down to th' hill
Pierius, and thence into the deep;
And over the wide sea he passed, till
At last he was arrived at the isle
Where was the nymph Calypso resident;
And like a cormorant was all this while
That hunts the fishes. Then ashore he went,
And coming to her rock found her within.
Upon the hearth a fire was of sweet wood,
There did she sing, and as she sung did spin.
About the cave many fair trees there stood,
Beech, poplar, and the cyprus of sweet smell,
And many birds, hawks, and sea-crows, and owls,
Within their branches used were to dwell;
And, such as haunt sea-water, other fowls.
The rock itself with vines was covered,
And grapes abundance hanging were thereon ;
Four springs a-row four ways clear water spread.
Sweet meadows were about it many a one,
Stuck full of violets and flowers gay,
Which, though a God, he saw with admiration,
And for a little while he there did stay,
Pleas'd with the beauty of the habitation,
And then into the spacious cave he goes.
At the first sight Calypso knew him well,
For perfectly one God another knows,
How far soever they asunder dwell.
Ulysses now was gone out to the shore,
To look upon the sea that kept him in,
To sigh and weep as he had done before;
At Hermes' coming he was not within.
To Hermes, seated in a glistering chair,
The Goddess fair Calypso then began:
Tell me, beloved Hermes, your affair,
If it be possible it shall be done.
Come nearer, and with food yourself restore.
Then sets she him a table, and lays on
Of nectar and ambrosia good store.
Then Hermes took his food, and having done,
Goddess, said he, since me, a God, you ask,
You may be sure I tell you shall no lie.
Jove sent me 'gainst my will; for such a task
Who undertake would, think you, willingly ?
For, first, a horrible long journey 'tis;
And then no town to bait at by the way
On hecatomb or lesser sacrifice.
But what God is there dares Jove disobey ?
There is, said Jove, a man that stay'd is here,
Of th' Argives that besieged Ilium
The most unhappy. There they stay'd nine year,
The tenth they took it, and were coming home;
But by the way they Pallas had offended,
And she against them raised stormy weather,
In which Ulysses' mates their lives all ended,
But he himself by storms was driven hither.
Him Jupiter would have you send away;
For he is destin'd not to die from home,
Nor any longer from his friends to stay,
But back unto his house and country come.
Calypso, troubled at it, answered:
Malicious ye Gods, and jealous are,
That think much Goddesses should mortals wed.
See but how hardly did Orion fare,
After Aurora was become his wife.
How angry at him, O ye Gods, were you,
Until Diana took away his life,
With shafts invisible before 'twas due.
And so when Ceres with Iäsion
Themselves delighted with the gift of love,
How soon it was by th' other Gods made known,
And with a thunder-bolt he slain by Jove!
And now they angry are with me. And why ?
Because I taken have a man to bed
Who in the sea had perish'd, had not I
Receiv'd him in my house and cherished.
For when his ship with thunder Jove had split,
And all his company away were cast,
Him on the mast unto the rudder knit,
The wind and waves brought hither at the last;
And here I him received and loved well,
And meant to give him immortality.
But since Jove will not let him with me dwell,
And I cannot resist him, farewell he.
But o'er the sea I shall not him convoy,
For in my power I have no ship, nor men
That have the art to walk in liquid way;
Prompt him I will how to get home again.
'Tis well, said Mercury; send him now hence;
The manner how, is left unto your will.
Be wise, and do not Jupiter incense,
Lest he upon you bring a greater ill.
This said, away went Mercury. And she
Unto Ulysses went to the sea-side.
Himself lamenting sitting there was he,
And when she came his eyes were not yet dried.
For now he lov'd the nymph less than before,
And lay with her a-nights unwillingly ;
A-days he weeping sat upon the shore,
And on tli' unbounded sea oft cast his eye.
Then to him said the nymph: Poor man, alas !
No longer weep, but fall your work unto;
For on a raft you are the sea to pass,
And I will tell you what you are to do.
Cut down great trees, and them together join
With bands of brass; and on them make a deck;
And on it I will lay both bread and wine,
And water fresh, hunger and thirst to check.
And garments I will give you, and a wind,
That you may safe go home and speedily;
Unless the Gods be of another mind,
For stronger they and wiser are than I.
At this Ulysses troubled was, and said,
I looked for a convoy me to waft;
For on this sea a man would be afraid
Though in a ship; much more upon a raft.
I will not therefore pass upon a raft,
Unless to do me no more hurt you swear.
And when he had said that, Calypso laugh'd,
And of his head she stroked down the hair.
You are, she said, a true bird of the nest,
As by your answer very well I see:
By Heaven and by Earth I do protest,
And Styx, which is the greatest oath can be,
IT! never anything hereafter do
That shall procure you hurt in any case;
And what at present I advise you to,
I would myself do, were I in your place:
For why, the Fates I also must obey,
And in my breast no iron heart I bear.
This said, she turn'd and homeward took her way,
And on her steps Ulysses follow'd her.
When they were come together in the cave,
She made him sit where Hermes sat before,
And meat and wine, the best that mortals have,
The maids upon the table laid good store;
Before Calypso they laid other meat,
Ambrosia and nectar, food divine;
There face to face they sit and drink and eat.
When she refreshed him had with meat and wine,
Noble Ulysses, said she, that long so
To see your house and wife without delay,
If what you were to suffer you did know
Before you there arrived, you would stay
And live with me here, and immortal be.
Nor than that wife, for whom you take such care,
Less fairer or less wise can you think me;
Women with Goddesses cannot compare.
Goddess, said he again, I know all this.
Penelope I not compare with you
In form or stature. For she mortal is,
And you immortal. Yet, though this be true,
I cannot chuse but wish myself at home.
And though I were to perish in the deep
By th' anger of the Gods, and never come,
I'd rather suffer that, than always weep.
For patience long since I learned have
Sufficiently in tempest and in fight.
This said, they both in one part of the cave
To sleep went, where in love they took delight.
And when the morning was again displayed,
Ulysses cloth'd himself with cloak and coat;
The nymph herself in a great robe array'd
Of dainty stuff with gold all over wrought,
Which on her loins a golden girdle tied,
And cover'd with a golden scarf her head.
And how Ulysses o'er the sea so wide
Should safely pass, she there considered.
Then puts a plainer and an axe in's hand,
Two-edged, with a haft of olive-tree.
Then show'd him where the greatest trees did stand,
And all the way before him walked she.
And when they were arrived at the wood,
Beeches they find, poplars, and fir-trees high,
Already dry, that lie light on the flood.
Calypso to her cavern back did hie.
Meanwhile Ulysses twenty trees brought low,
And hewed them, and plain'd them skilfully,
And laid them on the ground all in a row,
At corners square, and of one length they lie.
And then with wimbles back Calypso came;
Then pierced them, and set them one to one,
And with strong joints and nails fast bound the same.
And by the time that all this he had done,
As a good ship as broad it was and long.
Then for his decks he placed stoops upright
On every side, and many to be strong ;
And laid upon them planks at equal height.
Then made his mast, and set it up on end,
His rudder, and a place to sit and guide,
And laid on boughs from waves it to defend,
And all his cordage made of good cow-hide,
And then with levers set his raft afloat.
Four days in making of the raft he spent;
When he had done, and all his work had wrought,
Upon the fifth the nymph away him sent.
But first she bath'd him, and with clothes array'd,
Fine and perfum'd. Then wine of pleasant taste
One goat-skin full upon the raft she laid,
And one of water, greater, by it plac'd;
And sweetmeats, and good flesh of ev'ry kind.
And after he his sails had hoist and spread,
She fill'd them with a warm and cheerful wind.
Then he astern sat down and governed,
And on Bootes look'd, and Pleiades,
And on the Bear, which people call the Wain,
Which dogs Orion rising from the seas,
But she herself ne'er dives into the main.
This Bear she bade him leave on the left hand.
Then sev'nteen days he sail'd, on th* eighteenth day
He came in sight of the Phœacian land,
In that part where it nearest to him lay,
Which look'd as 'twere upon the sea a skin.
But now by Neptune, who returning was,
Ulysses' raft from Solymi was seen,
For o'er those mountains Neptune was to pass;
Who, wounded at the sight, with anger keen,
Thus said unto himself: What, what, I find,
While I in Ethiopia have been,
The Gods about this man have chang'd their mind.
The isle Phœacia is near at hand,
In which he destin'd is himself to save.
But yet, I think, before he be on land,
He struggle shall with many a lusty wave.
Then with his trident he the sea enraged,
And made a night of clouds the sea upon,
And 'gainst Ulysses all the Winds engaged,
And from their quarters they came out each one,
Eurus, and Notus, Zephyr, Boreas,
Each one a mighty wave against him rolled.
And then Ulysses' heart near broken was,
And with himself, himself he thus condoled.
Ah me, what will become of me at last!
I fear the nymph Calypso all this knew,
Who told me then that as I homeward pass'd
I should meet danger. Now I find it true.
With what thick clouds Jove cover'd has the sky!
In what a tumult is the sea! And how
On ev'ry side the winds the water ply
And storm ! My death, I see, is certain now.
Thrice, four times, Argives, happy were you, who
For Agamemnon's sake were slain. Would I
At Troy in battle my life lost had too,
I' th' show'r of spears about Achilles' body;
Then had I had a noble funeral,
And great among the Greeks had been my fame.
But now a wretched death will me befal,
For ever will unheard of be my name.
This said, he dash'd was 'gainst a point of land,
Which with great force whirled the raft about.
And then the rudder flew out of his hand;
And he into the water was cast out.
Of divers winds then followed one great blast,
And sail and tackle o'er-board far off bears,
And in the middle breaks in two the mast,
While he was in the sea o'er head and ears;
At last he rais'd his head above the pickle,
(Ilis heavy clothes awhile had hindered him),
Then from his hair into his mouth did trickle
The brine, which he spits out, and falls to swim.
And when he had his raft recovered,
And plac'd himself i' th' midst, then both together
The wind uncertainly them carried
From place to place, now hither and now thither;
Just as the wind in harvest blows pease-straw
Upon the plain field whilst it holds together;
So on the sea without a certain law
Ulysses' raft was driven by the weather.
In this distress by Ino he was seen,
A sea-nymph and immortal she was then,
Though woman, Cadmus' daughter, she had been.
And now in ngure Of a water-hen
She sat upon the raft and to him spake.
What meaneth Neptune that he hates you so ?
Do what he can your life he shall not take;
Do what I bid you. Off your garments throw,
And quit the raft; and to Phœacia
Swim with your hands, and there you shall find rest.
For so it is ordain'd by fatal law.
Here, take this scarf; apply it to your breast,
And fear not death. But when you come to land
Throw't in the sea as far off as you can,
Then turn. This said, she put it in his hand,
And diving there alone she left the man.
Ulysses grieving to himself then says,
What is it now I am advis'd unto!
Ah me! Some other God now me betrays
To quit my raft. I know what I will do.
For since my refuge is so near at hand,
Such counsel I will not too soon obey;
But do what does with greatest reason stand.
Upon my raft I mean so long to stay
As it shall hold together and be one.
But when the wind has broken it in pieces
I'll swim; since better counsel I have none.
While with himself consulting was Ulysses,
Neptune with wind the water sets upright
Into a high and formidable wave,
And threw it on the raft with all his might,
Which all the parts thereof asunder drave.
Just as the wind scatters a cock of hay,
So scattered was Ulysses* raft of trees;
Whilst he on one of them astride did stay,
And of his garments there himself he frees.
Then Ino's scarf applies he to his breast,
And on the troubled sea himself he laid
With open arms. To swim he now thought best.
Which Neptune seeing, thus unto him said:
Go wander now upon the sea in woe,
And do not make account that this is all.
This said, away to Ægae did he go,
Where many men that need him on him call.
When he was gone Pallas the winds did lay,
All but a lusty gale of Boreas,
And broke the waves before him all the way,
That to Phœacia he might safely pass.
Two nights and days perpetual he swam,
And was of drowning all the while afraid.
But when the morning of the third day came,
The air was calm, and all the winds allay'd.
And now unto the isle he was so nigh,
That from a high wave he could see the shore,
And glad he was. As when about to die,
Lien has a man long time by sickness sore,
Is by the Gods recovered suddenly,
Glad are his children; so Ulysses was
To see the so-much wish'd-for land so nigh,
And thither made what haste he could to pass.
When he was gotten so near to the shore
That one might hear another when he calls,
Torn by the rocks he heard the water roar.
(Loud is the sea when on hard rocks it falls.)
There neither haven was nor place to land,
But upright banks and cliffs and brows of stone.
And everywhere too deep it was to stand.
And now again quite was his courage gone,
And speaking to himself he said: Ah me,
This is the island. Jove has brought me to't,
That what must help me only I might see,
But not upon it ever set my foot.
There is no landing here. Rocks high and steep,
And unaccessible are all about.
The sea below so rugged is and deep,
That from it there will be no getting out.
If I should try, some mighty wave, I fear,
Against some rugged rock will carry me,
And make me find but woful landing there,
Amongst so many sharp stones as there be.
But if I swim along the coast to find
Some port or beach, though stormy, to land on,
I fear I shall again by some great wind
Far off from shore into the sea be blown;
And there by some great fish devoured be
(For many such are fed by Amphitrite)
Which Neptune may command to swallow me ;
For well I am acquainted with his spite.
While he thus doubted, came a mighty wave
That cast him to the bank amongst sharp stones.
But for the counsel Pallas to him gave,
He torn his skin and broken had his bones.
A rocher with his arms he then embrac'd,
And held it till the wave roll'd back again ;
And thought the danger of it now was past,
But then the same wave bore him to the main.
As looks a polypus when he is dragg'd
From out his hole, stuck full of stone and sands;
So, when Ulysses left his hold, were shagg'd
With broken skin all over both his hands.
And now, had not Athena giv'n him wit,
He perish'd had. For up his head he puts
Above the briny sea, and having spit,
He with his stretched arms the water cuts,
And swam along the shore; but kept his eye
Continually upon the land, to see
If any landing place he could espy.
At last before a river's mouth came he;
And knew it was a river's mouth. For there
Within the land smooth water might be seen,
And 'twixt the rocks a pause there did appear;
And here Ulysses thought fit to go in.
And in his mind unto the River spake:
Hear me, O king, from Neptune's rage I fly,
And of a man distress'd some pity take,
That at your knee and stream here prostrate lie;
Th' immortal Gods their suppliants respect,
When they before them humbly lay their want;
Whate'er your name be, do not me neglect
That am afflicted, and your suppliant.
This said, the stream stood still and sav'd the man.
But weary were his knees and arms, and brine
Abundance from his mouth and nostrils ran,
And all his body swell'd was. And in fine,
Speechless and breathless was he, like one dead.
But when he came unto himself again,
The scarf he to the stream delivered,
Which carried it again into the main.
And Ino took it then into her hand.
Then on a bulrush-bed himself he laid,
And, glad he had escaped, kiss'd the land.
But fearing still, unto himself he said,
Ah me, what will become of me at length!
For in the river if I spend the night,
So much already wasted is my strength,
With frost and dew I shall be killed quite.
If up the hill I go into the wood,
And in some thicket there lie warm and sleep,
I fear I shall for beasts and fowls be food.
At last concludes into some wood to creep.
A wood there was unto the river nigh;
Two thickets in it were; of olive one,
The other was of Phylia close by,
So twin'd they were together that nor sun,
Nor wind, nor rain, to th' ground could find a way.
Between them of dry leaves a bed made he,
And over head and ears there close he lay;
For leaves there were enough for two or three,
To keep them warm although cold weather 'twere.
As when a man takes up a brand of fire
In country-house, few neighbours dwelling near,
To warm himself withal if need require;
So buried in dry leaves Ulysses lay.
And then Athena closed up his eyes
With sound and gentle sleep to take away
Sad thoughts suggested by his miseries.
ODYSSEY.
LID. VI.
Nausicaa going to a river near that place to wash the clothes of her father, mother, and brethren, while the clothes were drying played with her maids at ball, and Ulysses coming forth is fed and clothed and led to the house of her father, King Alcinous, where being received, the queen after supper taking notice of his garments, gave him occasion to relate his passage thither on the raft.
THERE slept Ulysses. But Athena went
Unto the people of Phceacia,
Who once dwelt near a nation insolent,
The great Cyclopses in Hyperia,
And by the odds of strength were there oppress'd;
But by Nausithous transplanted were
To Scheria, that they might live at rest;
Who built them houses, and a city there,
And fortified the same with strong walls round,
And temples built, and gave them shares of land.
But he departed was, and under ground,
And now Alcinous had the command.
His house it was the Goddess went unto,
And int' a chamber gay, where lay a-bed
A godlike maid asleep, with less ado
Than could a gentle wind have entered.
This the king's daughter was, Nausicaa.
Within the door shut close, on each side one,
Two of her waiting-maids asleep she saw,
And as the Graces fair to look upon.
Then standing at Nausicaa's bed'a-head,
In form of Dymas' daughter, there she stay'd,
Who of her age was, and most favoured,
And to Nausicaa she spake, and said:
Careless Nausicaa, what do you mean,
When to your wedding-day you are so near,
To let so many garments lie unclean ?
You would be glad yourself fair clothes to wear,
And give to them that are to lead you out.
For e'en such things as these procure good fame
Amongst the people that dwell round about;
Your parents also take joy in the same.
Come therefore, to the river let's be gone
By break of day; for I will with you go
And help that you the sooner may have done.
I'm sure your wedding is not far off now,
For sought you are in marriage by the best
Of all the town where you were born and bred.
Go early to your father and request
You may with mules and coach be furnished,
That aprons, gowns, and mantles you may bear
Unto the washing-place, for far 'tis to't,
And for your person so 'tis comelier
Than to be seen to go so far on foot.
This said, the Goddess up to heaven went,
Where is the dwelling of the Gods in bliss;
A pure and undecaying firmament
Which by no wind moved or shaken is,
Nor wet nor slabber'd is with show'r of rain,
Nor clouded, nor approach'd unto by snow;
But bright and shining always doth remain.
Here dwell th' immortals, and no sorrow know.
Thither went Pallas. Then Nausicaa
Awak'd, and through the house went to relate
Unto her parents what a dream she saw.
Her mother by the fire-side spinning sate
With distaff laden with fine purple wool.
Her father going out, she met i' th' hall,
Call'd by the lords sitting in council full,
And waiting for him to consult withal.
And to him said: Pray, father, shall not I
Allowed be a coach your clothes to bear
(Which in the house sullied and spotted lie)
Unto the river side to wash them there ;
For you yourself when you to council go
Would gladly have your garments clean and sweet.
Your five sons, whereof two be wedded now,
Would fain with clean clothes at the dancings meet.
So said Nausicaa. But to her father
To talk of wedding she forbore for shame,
Yet what she thought on he could eas'ly gather,
However she dissembled had the same.
Dear child, then said her father, you shall have
Both mules and coach with handsome covering.
Unto his servants then command he gave
To see it done. And out the coach they bring,
And to it set the mules. Then came her mother,
And laid in things to eat, of relish fine,
And such as eaten are with bread, much other;
And in a bag of goat-skin pleasant wine.
When in the coach the garments all were plac'd,
Nausicaa went up into her seat,
And with her took (when their toil should be past)
A cruse of oil to help wash off the sweat.
Then out, with whip and reins in hand, did drive.
And then, with strained limbs and clattering feet,
The mules soon at the river side arrive,
And pasture for them there was very sweet.
And there the mules first they unharnessed,
Then pushed them off to graze on the bank-side.
The clothes, in pits with water covered,
They tread, and who shall fastest tread they vied.
Then on the beach the garments wet they spread
Upon the cast up pebbles one by one.
Then washed they, and dried themselves, and fed,
And left the garments drying in the sun.
And after they with food were satisfied,
It came into their minds to play at ball,
And spend the time so till the clothes were dried.
The tune Nausicaa sung for them all.
As when upon Mount Erymanthus high
Or on Täygetus stands Artemis,
And many rural fair nymphs playing by.
But she than all the rest much taller is;
And the wild boars and harts delights to see,
But more her mother Leda to see her,
For though they fair were all, yet fairer she;
So shew'd Nausicaa and her maidens there.
And when 'twas time that they should homewards go,
And that the clothes into the coach were laid,
And mules set to, Athena thought on how
Ulysses should awake and see the maid,
And be conducted by her to the town.
Nausicaa then throws the ball and misses,
The ball into the river falleth down;
Then shout the maids. At that awak'd Ulysses,
And sitting up, unto himself he said,
Ay me, where am I now ? 'Mongst men unjust,
And such as of the Gods are not afraid ?
Or good and godly men, whom I may trust?
But female are the voices which I hear.
Are they some nymphs that haunt the mountains high,
Or keep the meadows green, or waters clear,
Or are they mortals whom I am so nigh ?
But why go I not out myself and see?
Then with strong hand he wringed off a bough
With many leaves upon it from a tree,
To cover what became him not to show;
Then as a lion, confident and bold,
Howe'er it blow or rain, with fiery eyes
Comes from the mountain to a herd or fold,
And on the flock at last his fortune tries;
So came Ulysses boldly from the wood
Stark naked, forc'd to't by necessity,
And in the presence of the maidens stood.
The sight was terrible and made them fly;
Nausicaa fled not, but hid her eyes.
Off stood Ulysses, with himself to weigh
Whether to speak from thence was the more wise,
Or else himself before her feet to lay.
To stay there right at last resolved he,
Lest she should take his coming near her ill:
Then said, O queen, I beg upon my knee
That you with patience hear my prayer will.
You are a Goddess, or of human race;
If Goddess, you can then no other be
Than Artemis, Jove's daughter. In your face
Such beauty is; in height such majesty.
If mortal, and of human race you be,
Thrice happy are your parents and your brothers,
How glad in the processions they will see,
How much they are more grac'd by you than others;
For such a branch I ne'er saw with my eyes
On mortal stock. To see't I am amazed.
But once a palm at Delus saw arise
In the same manner, and long on it gazed
(For that way went I once well followed,
Which the first cause was of my trouble sore);
And then, as I do now, I wondered,
For I had never seen the like before.
T' approach unto your knees I was afraid,
Or show myself. But such is my estate.
For twenty days upon the sea I stray'd,
And here in storms was thrown ashore by fate
From th'isle Ogygia last night, and fear
I am to suffer yet more misery,
And that the Gods will persecute me here.
And since my landing you the first I see;
Now pity me, O queen, and show me where
The city stands. And t'hide my nakedness,
Give me some rag if there be any here;
And may Jove you with all you wish for bless,
A husband and a house, and concord good;
For man and wife to live in unity
Is the greatest blessing can be understood:
It joys your friend, and grieves your enemy.
Nausicaa then speaks, and to him says,
You seem to be a good man and discreet,
But Jove on good and bad such fortune lays,
Happy or otherwise, as he thinks meet;
And since distress is fallen to your share,
You must contented be to suffer it.
But seeing to this place arrived you arc,
You shall have raiment, and what else is fit.
The city I will shew you, and the name
The people of this isle are called by;
Phœacians they are call'd. And I am
Daughter of him that has th' authority,
Alcinous, the king. And then she cried
Aloud unto the maids to make them stay;
Why, said she, run you so away and hide ?
D'ye think the man will carry you away ?
For why, no enemy can come in hither,
The Gods so with the sea have wall'd us in.
Nor stranger dwells here. But by evil weather
To come to land this man hath forced been;
Let's do him good. From Jove come beggars all,
And welcome to them is whate'er they get;
Our givings to him will be very small.
Go, therefore, set before him wine and meat,
And wash him in the river, in such part
As cover'd is from wind. And then they did
(When they had given one another heart)
Set him in such a place as they were bid;
And gave him th' oil to scour his skin withal.
And by him a good cloak and coat they laid,
And then they bade him to his washing fall.
Ulysses answer'd them, and to them said,
Stand further off, I pray, fair maids; for I
My body naked am asham'd to show.
Then stand they off, and tell their mistress why,
(For washing he must have put off his bough.)
Then washed he his head and shoulders wide,
And with his hand from's head strok'd down the brine,
And with the clothes that laid were by his side
Array'd himself, that comely were and fine.
Then Pallas to him came, and made him look
Taller and broader than he was before;
And from his hair the colour grey she took,
And made it like the hyacynthinc flower.
As one by Vulcan or Athena taught,
Gold upon silver skilfully had spread;
So Pallas on Ulysses beauty wrought,
And graceful majesty upon his head;
Then sat he on the sands. Nausicaa
Then said unto her maidens, Do you hear,
How poor he look'd the first time we him saw,
And now how like a God he does appear;
And by the Gods, it may be, he was sent,
To dwell amongst the people of this place.
With such a husband I could be content
(If he would stay) and think it no disgrace;
Go, maids, and set before him wine and meat.
Away they went and did as the them bade;
(And he fell to, and heartily did eat,
For long before he nothing eaten had) ;
Then harnessed the mules and set them to,
And folded and put up the garments all.
Nausicaa went up with maidens two,
And then unto Ulysses did she call,
Rise, stranger, to the city let us go,
That I may send you to my fathers house,
Where all the best Phœacians you'll know;
But hear you (for I think you cautelous),
Whilst in the fields the coach is on the way,
Amongst my maidens follow it apace,
But when you see it near the city, stay;
And that you may well understand the place,
A tower there is, you'll see it, for 'tis high:
There, 'twixt two havens is a narrow way,
You'll see it by the masts, for ships there lie;
Near it the people meet o'th'market-day,
And there a temple fair of Neptune stands,
Of free-stone from. the quarry hewn and fit;
For the Phœacians employ their hands
On shipping, and no other art but it.
For bows and arrows they care not a pin,
But for such things as serve to pass the seas,
Ships, cordage, oars, they take their pleasure in,
And spend their time and labour upon these.
I am afraid these men will censure me,
And say (for censurers are many here),
This handsome and tall fellow who is he,
That's with Nausicaa, from God knows where?
Where did she find him; must he marry her?
From some far country he is landed here,
Wand'ring by fortune, or a traveller;
For sure I am no such man dwelleth near.
May be some God from heaven descended is,
And to live with her always hither come,
So, then to wed a stranger better 'tis,
Since she thinks none is good enough at home;
For many seek her, and the best men here.
So will they say, and 'twill be to my shame;
For if another that had done it 'twere,
I should myself condemn her for the same;
For 'tis unseemly a fair maid to see,
That subject is t'her parents' government,
Converse with any man, unless she be
First married, or their parents give consent.
And, therefore, stranger, if you mean to be
Convoyed by my father to your home,
Do as I tell you. Near the way you'll see
A grove of poplars. When you thither come
You'll find my father's vineyard, from the town
As far as one that hollas heard can be,
And when you thither come, there sit you down
Till at my father's house you think are we.
Then to the city go; ask where does dwell
Alcinous. For you shall meet with none,
Though but a child, but can inform you well;
So well his house is known to every one.
And there go in, and on, until you find
My mother. Whom you'll by the fire-side see
Spinning; and maids at the same work behind
The pillar under which sits working she.
My father's chair by the same pillar stands,
Where, when he drinketh, like a God he is.
Pass by it to my mother, and your hands,
If you mean to get home, lay on her knees.
If once her favour you can but obtain,
You need not fear, but you your friends shall see,
And to your house and country come again.
This said, her whip upon the mules laid she.
The mules start swiftly from the river side,
For nimble was the motion of their feet:
But she for those who went afoot, did guide
The swiftness of their pace as she thought meet.
When they were come t'Athena's sacred grove,
The sun went down; and there Ulysses staid
And to the Goddess, daughter of great Jove,
That he might good reception find, he pray'd.
Hear me, Jove's virgin daughter, hear me now,
Since still you did refuse to help me then,
When Neptune sought at sea my overthrow,
Grant that I may be welcome to these men.
Thus pray'd he, and was by Athena heard,
Though to him face to face she would not come,
But of her uncle Neptune was afeard,
That ne'er forgave him till he was at home.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. VII.
Alcinous enterhuns him, and grants him a convoy, and
WHILST there he pray'd, Nausicaa went on,
And stayed her coach the outer gate without,
And like to Gods her brothers came each one,
From out the house and her stood round about.
The mules they freed, th' apparel they took in,
Nausicaa straight to her chamber went;
Eurymedusa made a fire therein;
Who, ta'en by rovers on the continent,
Was given to the king Alcinous,
That like a God was honour'd by the nation
Of the Phœacians at home. And thus
She of Nausicaa had th' education.
A fire she made her, and her supper brought.
Ulysses then into the city went,
Pallas of air had made him such a coat,
As he could not be seen; lest insolent
And sturdy townsmen should him mock and jeer,
Or ask him questions, who, what, or why.
But when he was unto the gate come near,
Pallas appeared to him openly,
Like a young maid with pail upon her head.
Ulysses then spake to her, and said thus:
Sweet pretty girl, will you be pleas'd to lead
Me to the house of king Alcinous ?
For I a stranger come, and no man know,
Nor ever in my life was here before.
Yes, then said Pallas, I will you it show,
For 'tis the next unto my father's door.
Go softly, thus, and I will lead the way,
For our folk strangers do not well endure;
But in good ships their honour wholly lay,
And the wide sea to pass themselves inure:
For Neptune given to them has this gift,
That their good ships fly like to thought or wind.
This said, the Goddess led with motion swift;
And on her steps he treading went behind.
And through the people so he pass'd unseen.
For why, the Goddess Pallas, for good will,
A wondrous mist of air had wrapt him in.
Then looking at the house he there stood still.
The havens and the ships he wonder'd at;
The market-place, and walls so thick and high.
Then Pallas said, Alcinous' house is that.
There sup the king and queen now merrily.
Though you a stranger be, fear not, go in;
The bold than fearful always better speed.
And first of all the house you'll find the queen,
Arete is her name. Both from one seed
Descended are she and Alcinous,
In Perrhaea, child of Eurimedon.
The God o' th' seas begot Nausithous
Who two sons had ; Alcinous was one,
The other was Rexenor, who no son
But one fair daughter only left behind.
Arete was her name. Besides her none.
.Alcinous and she in wedlock join'd;
And he to her so much respect doth bear,
As no man living to a wife bears more,
And honour'd is by all her children dear.
The people like a Goddess her adore,
And bless her when she comes into the street;
And loving to them all is also she,
For a wise woman is she and discreet.
When they fall out she makes them to agree.
If you her favour can but once obtain.
You need not fear but you your friends shall see.
And safely to your country come again.
And when she this had said, away went she
O'er sea to Marathon in Attica,
T* Erectheus' house. And he now was to enter
Into the house. But long he laid the law
Unto himself before he would adventure.
Ent'ring he saw the walls lin'd round with brass,
And fring'd about with colour of the sky.
The door within golden all over was,
And all appear'd like heaven to the eye.
The door-posts silver, glorious to behold,
The lintle-tree upon them silver too;
The sill was brass, the ring to pull it, gold.
And by the door great dogs were standing two,
Of silver one. the other was of gold,
As watch before the royal gate to stay,
Immortal dogs that never can grow old.
And round about them all, thrones ev'ry way,
All cover'd with a dainty stuff and fine,
The work of women's hand. There us'd to eat
The king and lords, and drink and make good cheer.
His riches was a never-dying teat.
About the altar were set boys of gold,
That to the guests, as soon as it was night,
With burning torches they the light might hold;
For now the sun had borne away his light.
Fifty maid-servants were at work within.
Some at the mill were grinding wheat for bread,
And others with their distaffs sat to spin,
And others cloth were weaving with the thread;
Like to the leaves of a high aspen tree
Their fingers went. So much they did excel
In all the works, that taught by Pallas be,
The women that in other places dwell;
As do these men all other men surpass
In all things that belong to navigation;
For wit and art more Pallas given has
To them, than women of another nation.
Close by the house a dainty orchard is,
Four-square and fenc'd with hedge and pale about,
Of pear, pomegranate, apple, olive-trees,
And fig-trees. For the season ne'er goes out
Summer nor winter, for by Zephyrs some
Are made put forth, and others ripened;
Pears after pears, apples to apples come;
Grapes are by grapes, figs by figs followed;
And in it was the vineyard of the king.
Grapes in some places by the sun were dried,
In others staid till vintage ripening.
Upon some vines no flower yet was spied,
And grapes on some to blacken now began.
Green beds of herbs there were on ev'ry side,
And through it from two springs the water ran,
And to and fro the one did winding glide,
The other to the house his stream did bear,
And under ground was to the town convey'd,
And rose a fountain for the people there.
And when Ulysses had all this survey'd,
Then went he in, and found them in the hall
Sitting at supper, and to Mercury
There off'ring up of wine : which last of all
At bed-time men do offer usually.
And on he went up to the king and queen,
And both his hands upon her knee did lay.
Pallas had kept him in the mist unseen ;
But thither come, the mist straight fell away.
Amaz'd they were when first they saw the man,
And like to men that had been stricken dumb.
Ulysses then t' Arete thus began :
O queen Arete, to your knee I come,
And to the king, and those that with you sit:
May the Gods grant you all much happiness,
Long life, and your possessions to transmit
T' your children, and your honours still possess;
And may you me send presently away
Unto my house: long absent I have been.
This said, he sat down by the fire. And they
Said nothing, such amazement they were in.
At last old Echineus spake, that knew
Both what in former times and now was fit:
O king Alcinous, is't good, think you,
To let the stranger in the ashes sit ?
We silent sat to see what was your will;
Pray make him rise, and to a chair him bring,
And bid the squire to temper wine and fill,
That we to Jove may make our offering,
Who with poor strangers keepeth company;
And bid the maid before him set such meat
As she within has in her custody.
This said, Alcinous rose from his seat,
T' Ulysses went, and took him by the hand.
And to a chair him led, where sat his son
Laodamas, to whom he gave command
To give him place, although he loved none
So dearly as he lov'd Laodamas,
Who next unto him us'd to sit at meat.
Then by a maid brought in a bason was
And ewer of gold, to wash ere he did eat;
Another maid before him layed bread,
And other good things on his table laid,
And heartily thereon Ulysses fed.
Alcinous then to the squire said:
Temper the wine, Pontonous, that we
Wine-offering to Jove may offer up,
In whose protection all suppliants be,
And round about presented be the cup.
Then went about the wine from one to one;
And when the sacred offering was over,
Then said Alcinous: Since we have done,
Let's go to bed, and soon as we discover
Aurora rising, hither come again,
And make unto the Gods a sacrifice,
And this our stranger farther entertain,
And how to send him to his house advise,
That safely he may go, and joyfully,
And swiftly to the place where he would be,
How far soever hence his dwelling lie,
Nor on the sea delay or trouble see,
Until his native country he be at:
But what his fate is after he is there,
Be't good or evil, he must suffer that.
But if it be some God that sittetli here,
'Tis only our devotion t' approve;
For to that end Gods let themselves be spied,
To sit with men at holy feasts they love,
And not themselves in caves like giants hide.
To this Ulysses said: O king, lay by
That thought of yours. With Gods I'll not compare,
For body or for mind. Of misery
If man can boast, to boast 'mong them I dare;
For I more tokens can produce of woe
Than any man that shall with me contend,
Though all I tell not that I can. Yet so
I fain would of my supper make an end.
No creature is so fierce as is the gut,
And so loud barketh when it is forgot,
That out of mind it never can be put,
But will be heard whether one will or not.
So 'tis with me, that am afflicted sore,
Yet still my belly bids me eat and drink,
And forget all I had endured before,
And on my misery no more to think.
And so, since now I hunger to go home,
Forget not with a ship me to supply
To-morrow: for were I once thither come,
I could be well contented there to die.
When this was said, he was by all commended.
He speaks discreetly; let him then, said they,
A speedy conduct have. When all was ended,
The rest unto their houses went away.
Only Ulysses stay'd, and by him sate
The king and queen. Tables removed were,
And all that to the supper did relate;
The queen then marked what garments he did wear,
And that she and her maids had made them, knew.
Stranger, said she, who are you? whence? and more,
The garments you have on, of whom had you?
Had you them on, then, when you came ashore ?
Grievous, said he, O queen, is your command,
That calls again, when past it is, my pain;
Yet will I answer make to this demand.
An island lieth far hence in the main,
Ogygia 'tis call'd ; Calypso there,
The daughter fair of Atlas, lives alone,
Nor God nor man she has to dwell with her;
And I by fate upon that isle was thrown,
For Jove my good ship had with thunder split:
My fellows in the sea all perished,
But I the rudder had, and held by it:
And thus nine days and nights I wandered,
And thrown was on that isle the tenth, at night.
Calypso there received me, and fed ;
And immortality have had I might,
If I had with her there inhabited.
But I to that would never give consent.
Yet there by force I stayed seven years,
For want of ship and men, in discontent,
Washing the clothes she gave me with my tears.
The eighth year come, she did my going press,
Whether by Jove's command I cannot say,
Or whether 'twere because she loved me less.
Then on a raft of trees I came away.
Bread and sweet wine upon the deck she laid,
And garments gave me fair, and a good wind ;
And good for seventeen days the weather stay'd.
On th' eighteenth near your coast myself I find ;
And glad I was, though still unfortunate,
For more I was to suffer by and by:
For Neptune rais'd against me, in his hate,
A storm of winds, with furious waves and high,
And then I forced was the raft to quit:
The trees asunder floated here and there,
The storm so broken had and scattered it.
Then swam I: 'gainst the rocks the waves me bear,
And falling off, they cast me back again.
Again I swam, and to the river came,
And there I saw the landing smooth and plain,
And from the wind defended was the same:
There landed I, half dead, and now 'twas night.
Then up I went and in a thicket lay,
Covered with leaves abundance, dry and light,
And slept till almost spent was the next day,
For then the sun was setting. There I hear
The voice of women playing by the brook;
And going out I saw your daughter there,
That like a Goddess come from heaven did look.
To her I made my prayer in this distress:
Wisely she answered, and beyond her age,
(For th' younger commonly consider less),
And gave me food my hunger to assuage.
Of her I had the garments I have on.
Nay, stranger, answered Alcinous,
'Twas in my child an indiscretion,
That she not brought you with her to my house.
To this Ulysses answered and said:
'Twas not her fault we came not both together:
She bade me, I would not; but was afraid
Whatyou and they would think that saw me with her,
For jealous and mistrustful mortals be.
To this again Alcinous replied:
From such ill thoughts I always have been free.
O Jove and Pallas make you here abide;
Such are you, and our thoughts so well agree,
That you Nausicaa should have for bride,
If you would with me live here willingly,
And for your house and wealth I would provide.
But 'gainst your will I will not make you stay
(From such iniquity the Gods me keep);
To-morrow shall be ready your convey,
And till then go you to your bed and sleep.
And here be men, that, when the wind shall fail,
Can row you on how far soe'er you'll go;
Their hands can do as much as any sail,
Although beyond Eubœa they must row:
For farther no Phœacian ever went.
But thither once they carried Rhadamant,
Of Tityus to see the punishment,
Son of the earth, that terrible giant;
Yet that long voyage cost them but a day
Going and coming all the way at ease.
But you yourself, when you are on the way,
Will see how stoutly our men plough the seas.
This said, Ulysses joyful was, and pray'd,
Make all this good, O father Jove, said he,
The glory of the king will be displayed,
And quickly in my country I shall be.
Whilst they together thus discoursing stay'd,
Arete bade the maids to make his bed,
And see fair purple rugs upon it laid,
And under them soft woolly blankets spread.
Then went away the maids into the porch,
And made his bed, and soon came back again,
And stood before Ulysses with a torch.
Come stranger, said they, all is ready. Then
Ulysses to his bed went willingly.
Alcinous in a room lay far within,
Where formerly he used was to lie,
That was prepared for him by the queen.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. VIII.
The next day's entertainment of Ulysses, where lie sees them contend in wrestling and other exercises, and, upon provocation, took up a greater stone than that which they were throwing, and overthrew them all; and how the king asked liis name, his coun. try, and his ad. venture.
SOON as Aurora was again espied,
The king Alcinous rose from his bed.
Up rose Ulysses and came to his side,
And to the public place the king him led,
To sit in counsel with his princes there ;
And being there they sat together nigh.
Pallas the while, that did great favour bear,
T'Ulysses' welfare always had an eye,
In likeness of Alcinous his squire
(Who, by his office, did the counsel call)
Their favour for Ulysses to acquire,
Went through the streets, and there unto them all
Said one by one, Make haste. To counsel go.
A stranger, new come to the king, you'll see,
That like a God immortal is in show.
This said, unto the counsel house they flee.
And filled was the house, and ev'ry seat;
And of his person all admired the grace ;
For Pallas made him had more tall and great,
And laid more majesty upon his face.
To make him welcome to those men she meant,
And to gain him honour at their exercises
When they should put him to experiment.
Alcinous unto them then arises;
Hear, said he, princes of Phœacia,
This man (who 'tis, or whence, I cannot say)
Cast here ashore, till then I never saw.
Since 'tis our custom, grant him a convoy.
For no man yet unto my house did come,
By force of weather wandering on the main,
Lamenting and desiring to go home,
That can affirm he sought our help in vain.
Come then, let's launch a good new ship, and choose
Out two-and-fifty lusty youths to row;
And let them ready have their oars to use,
And to my house, when that's done, let them go.
And you the princes thither come with me,
That we may well the stranger entertain.
And let the singer too sent thither be,
To give us sometimes of his art a strain.
This said, the princes to his house he led.
The squire unto the house the singer sent.
The fifty-two, as they were ordered,
Down to the haven where the ship lay went.
The ship they launch, and up they set the mast;
And then the yards and sails they hoisted high ;
Their oars, where they be placed should, they plac'd.
This done they let her in the water lie.
Then also to the house these men went up.
The porches, court, and rooms with men were fill'd,
Some old, some young. The king to make them sup,
Two kine, eight swine, and twice six fat sheep kill'd.
These flay'd and dress'd, and to the tables brought,
Came in the singer, whom the muses kind
Had taught to sing divinely; but, could not
Or would not him preserve from being blind.
Pontonous the squire then led him in,
And set him by a pillar in the hall,
And hung his fiddle o'er him on a pin,
And how to reach it showed him withal:
Sets him a table and a basket by,
And a great bowl of wine before him plac'd,
To drink as often as he should be dry.
And when their thirst and hunger was displac'd,
The singer sung the song in most request,
How once Ulysses and Achilles great
In high and bitter language did contest,
When at a sacred feast they sate at meat;
And how king Agamemnon pleased was,
To see the two best of the Greeks fall out.
For Phœbus told him so 'twould come to pass,
When he at Pythos asked him about
The issue of the fleet design'd for Troy.
This song Demodocus sung to them then;
Which to Ulysses was of little joy;
But he his tears to hide before those men,
Before his eyes his cloak of purple drew,
And when the singer ceas'd, his eyes he dried,
And from before his face his cloak withdrew,
And of the wine perform'd the sacrifice.
And when the lords call'd for the song anew,
(For they to hear him took no small delight),
His cloak again before his eyes he drew,
And as before again he sobb'd and sigh'd.
Alcinous, none else, observed it,
And well enough could hear him sigh and groan;
For he the nearest there did to him sit,
And would not to the princes make it known.
But speaking to them all said only this:
Since you with feasting are well satisfied,
And music (which to feasts annexed is),
Let now our men's activity be tried,
That when the stranger is where he doth dwell,
He to his friends and countrymen may tell
How much we do all other men excel
At wrestling, buffets, leaping, running well.
Then went the king and princes out a door;
The squire then took the singer by the hand,
And hung the fiddle where it hung before,
And him led out amongst the rest to stand.
Unto the place they went; and follow'd were
By people numberless the sports to see;
And many lusty youths amongst them there,
Stood out to show their great ability.
Out stood Elatreus and Acroneus,
Eretmeus, Thoon, Nautes, and Prymneus,
Ambasineus and Amphialus,
Proteus, and Ponteus, and Anchialus;
Otyalus, warlike Euryalus,
And he that of them most their eye did please,
(Except the first son of Alcinous),
For countenance and shape, Naubolides,
And then Alcinous his three sons rise,
Laodamas, Halius, Clitoneus.
And first they all contended for the prize
Of who at running could his feet best use.
Then start they all at once, and swiftly run
As if they flew. And here the victory
The king's son noble Clytoneus won,
And pass'd them all a land's length very nigh.
Euryalus at wrestling was the best.
Amphialus at leaping victor was.
Elatreus surpassed all the rest
To throw the stone. At cuffs Laodamas.
When all was done Laodamas up stood.
Come friends, said he, let us the stranger try
If he at any of these games be good;
For in his person no defect I spy.
His thighs, his knees, his arms, his neck, are strong,
Nor over aged yet he seems to me;
Only he hath endured the sea so long,
As for that cause he may excused be.
For than the sea nothing more potent is
To break a man how strong soe'er he be.
Go, said Euryalus, 'tis not amiss
T'invite him to it, and his mind to see.
Then to Ulysses said Laodamas,
Come, stranger, father, pray, your virtue show;
'Tis no dishonour for you in this place
To show your skill at any game you know,
As long as feet and hands continue strong.
' Come, try, and cast your careful thoughts away:
Your convoy ready is. 'Twill not be long
Before you shall be set upon your way.
Laodamas, then said Ulysses, why
To these your games invite you me in scorn,
Upon whose heart so many sorrows lie,
And am to nothing with much hardship worn,
And publicly a suppliant now sit,
And to the king and people grief profess?
Think you that pastimes for such men are fit,
As from their country wander in distress?
Then spake Euryalus, uncivilly:
No, no, said he, I do not think you are
Much us'd to pastimes of activity,
But rather one that of a ship takes care,
That merchantmen from place to place conveys,
And mindful of your fraught are, and can tell
Which are to sudden wealth the nearest ways,
What merchandise will not, and what will sell,
And in such boisterous games has little skill.
Ulysses frowning on him then replied:
My friend, such words are indiscreet and ill.
The Gods the gifts as they think fit divide.
To one, of beauty they deny the grace,
But give him language steady and discreet,
Whereby he honour'd is i' th' public place,
And men gaze on him going in the street.
T'another they have giv'n a fair aspect,
Like that o' th' Gods, but have denied him wit.
So find I in your person no defect;
Only you want the grace to say what's fit.
Your words have put me into passion.
In these your games you say no skill have I.
I thought myself interior to none,
Whilst on my youth and hands I could rely.
But tamed now my strength is with much woe,
Wandering at sea, and often hurt in fight.
Yet of your games I'll make a trial so,
Weak as I am. So much your words me bite.
This said, he took up a much greater stone
Than that which the Phceacians had flung,
Now hollow as a quoit, his cloak still on.
And when above his head he had it swung,
Swiftly away the stone flew with a hum,
Which made the brave Phceacian seamen couch,
As o'er their heads they heard it singing come,
And outwent all the other marks by much.
For Pallas in the likeness of a man
Did set a mark at where the stone did light,
And said the difference be discerned can
By feeling, though a man had lost his sight.
And to Ulysses said he, Do not fear
That any man i' th' town shall out-throw this.
Ulysses very glad was this to hear,
And that amongst them stood one friend of his.
Then of himself began to speak more high.
Come youths, throw first as far as I have done,
And then as far or further throw will I.
And for the other games come any one,
Since your sharp words provok'd me have thereto,
Buffets, or wrestling, or to run the race,
And see if you at these can me out-do,
Any of you except Laodamas.
For I to him have come as to a friend
Of whom I hope for succour in my need.
He were a fool that with him would contend,
Without whose help his business cannot speed.
But of the rest not any I refuse;
And will contend with them for mastery.
For I know all the games the best men use.
To use the bow none abler is than I.
When many of us had a mind to kill
Some noted foe, and all at once did shoot,
Though every one of us had the same will,
My arrow was the first that found him out.
At Ilium in trials of the bow
None found I better than myself but one;
'Twas Polyctetes. Of those that are now
I think myself inferior to none.
With those of former time I'll not compare,
As Hercules, or Eurytus that durst
Challenge Apollo. Apollo took a care
That prize should not be play'd, and kill'd him first.
As far as other men can shoot an arrow,
So far I able am to dart a spear.
But lodging I have had at sea so narrow,
That I may be out-run by some man here.
So said Ulysses; and all silent sat
Except the king, who thus unto him said:
Stranger, there's no man here offended at
The words you say. For open you have laid
Your virtue, when you were thereto constrain'd
By the unjust reproaches of this man.
For such it is as by none can be stain'd,
But those that nothing say discreetly can.
And hear me farther what I have to say,
That t'other heroes you the same may tell,
Who with you and your wife shall feasting stay,
In what from other men we bear the bell.
For cuffs and wrestling, not much praise we merit,
But our good ships and fleets are wondrous swift.
And these gifts from our fathers we inherit,
Dance, song, feasts, fiddle, and of garments shift,
And baths, and beds. Dance you that dance the best
Before the stranger, that his friends among
He may say how much we exceed the rest
Of men, in ships, in running, dance, and song.
Fetch out the fiddle. Then the squire went in
To fetch the fiddle. And the judges rise,
In number nine, who had elected been
By public vote, of games to hold assize;
And order took for large room in the middle,
And made it to be planed well and even.
When this was done, then brought out was the fiddle,
And by the squire was to the singer given.
Then came the young men that had learnt to dance,
And of their age were yet but in the flower,
And to the middest of the place advance.
Their feet play up and down like drops in show'r;
Such sparkling feet Ulysses ne'er had seen.
The singer as he played sung the song
Of Mars and Venus, and what love had been
Held secretly between them all along;
And how in Vulcan's house they used to meet;
And what he gave her; how the prying Run,
As they embrae'd each other, chanc'd to see't,
And told her husband Vulcan what was done-
How Vulcan to his forge in anger went,
And on his anvil hammered out strong chains,
Which neither could be broken, nor relent;
And when he made an end had of his pains,
Into the chamber went where stood his bed.
His net o'th'bed-posts, and the beams he threw,
Like spider-webs about a chamber spread;
And then to go to Lemnos made a show.
So subtle were the chains and finely wrought,
They could by none, although a God, be seen.
How Mars to watch his going failed not.
When Vulcan was gone out, then Mars went in.
How Venus entered in, new come from Jove,
And by him sate. Mars took her by the hand,
And to her said, Let's go to bed, my love.
Vulcan is now at Lemnos gone a land.
And how they went to bed and made the net
Fall down upon, and hold them as they lay.
And how they knew no way from thence to get,
But must till Vulcan came to free them stay.
How Vulcan from hard by came quickly in;
For back he came before he was half way:
For by the Sun advertised he had been,
And angrily turn'd back without delay;
And roaring to the Gods, he said, Dye see
What work is here, and how unseemly 'tis?
And how Jove's daughter does dishonour me,
Because my limbs are maim d, and whole are his ?
I grant he's fair, nor doth as I do halt;
Ought she to love him therefore more than me?
For that my parents' is, and not my fault.
But come, ye Gods all, and their posture see;
I hate the sight, yet they must not therefore
Hope e'er the sooner for that, to be free.
The net will suffer them to move no more,
How keen soever on their love they be;
And till her father shall the dow'r repay
Which for the girl, although incontinent,
I paid him down, 'cause fair she was and gay,
There they shall lie. This said, the Gods straight went
To Vulcan's house. Neptune and Mercury,
And with them, with his silver bow, Apollo,
And many others. But (for modesty)
No Goddess could persuaded be to follow.
As soon as they perceived had the craft,
Which standing in the door they had survey'd;
At first aloud they altogether laugh,
And by-and-by to one another said,
I see that evil works do ill succeed.
The slow has gotten of the swift the better ;
Vulcan of Mars the God of greatest speed,
And that by arts which make his ransom greater.
And how Apollo did the question put
To Mercury, if he content would be
In such strong chains with Venus to be shut,
While all the Gods are standing by and see.
How Hermes said, O Phoebus, that I were
In Mars his place, and did with Venus lie,
And thrice as many chains about us there,
Though all the Gods and Goddesses stood by.
And how the Gods at this laugh'd out again,
Save Neptune only, who did never cease
T'importune Vulcan and his wrath restrain,
And that he would the God of war release;
And that himself would pay him what was due
If Mars did not. How Vulcan said again,
If Mars should fly, shall I imprison you ?
Unsure the suretyship is of fled men.
And that again Neptune replying said,
Though Mars should run away, yet I will not.
And how that Vulcan at the last obey'd,
And Mars and Venus out of prison got,
And he to Thrace went, but to Cyprus she;
Where she a temple and an altar had,
And by the Graces that her servants be
Bath'd and anointed was and Godlike clad.
These of the merry song were the contents.
Ulysses was well pleased with the same;
And of the rest delighted was the sense.
Alcinous then called out by name
Laodamas and Halius to dance.
None else for either of them was a match.
And they into the midst themselves advance
The one to throw a ball, th' other to catch.
One threw't up high, reclining on his hip;
The other of the same the downfall watch'd,
And taking from the ground a lusty skip,
His feet above ground, in the air it catch'd.
When this was done, they laid aside the ball,
And danc'd with often changes on the ground;
Applauded much by the spectators all,
Who with their praises made the place resound.
O king, then said Ulysses, what you said
Of how your men pass all the world beside
In noble dance, can never be gainsaid.
I see it to my wonder justified.
The king well pleased to the princes spake:
A worthy man the stranger seems to me;
Let's think upon what present him to make.
Twelve princes in Phœacia there be,
And I the thirteenth am. Let's ev'ry one
Bestow on him a handsome cloak and coat,
Besides a talent of pure gold. That done,
Let it be altogether to him brought,
That he at supper may sit cheerfully.
And you, Euryalus, go speak him fair,
For what you said before was injury;
Go therefore with some gift your fault repair.
This said, to fetch the gifts they sent the squire.
Then said Euryalus, O king, since 'tis,
That also I present him, your desire;
I will for reconcilement give him this
My sword, with scabbard all of ivory,
And silver hilt. The present is not poor.
And giving it: O father, though, said he,
I said amiss, pray think upon't no more;
And may the Gods restore you to your land,
Since absent from your friends you live in pain.
Ulysses took the sword into his hand,
And to Euryalus thus said again:
And you, my friend, may you still happy be,
And of this sword for ever need have none,
Which reconciling you have given me.
And as he speaking was he put it on.
The sun now set, the king no longer tarried,
But with the lords went to his house to sup.
Along with them the squires the presents carried
Unto the queen Arete to lay up.
Alcinous then said unto the queen,
Let a fair chest be straightway hither brought,
And for the stranger see there be laid in
A comely and well-wash'd cloak and coat,
And of warm water let a bath stand by,
That washing he may see the presents there,
And sit at supper the more joyfully,
And hearken to the song with better cheer;
And I will give him this my cup of gold,
That off'ring up unto the Gods the wine,
As often as he doth the cup behold,
He may both for his own health pray and mine.
This said, the maids, commanded by the queen,
Set up a cauldron with a triple foot,
Then make fire under, and pour water in.
Keen was the fire, and soon the water hot.
Meanwhile the queen came in, and with her brought
A curious chest, and into it laid in
The gold, and with it every cloak and coat,
That by the princes given him had been.
And then unto Ulysses said, Take care
You bind it fast, lest you be robb'd by one
Or other, whilst aboard you sleeping are,
Lest anything should missing be and gone.
And when she thus had him admonished,
Ulysses of the chest pull'd down the lid,
And girt it with a cord of various thread,
Thereby to know if any it undid,
For that trick he by Circe taught had been.
A woman then unto Ulysses said,
There stands your bath, which way you please go in.
Then went he in, and not a little joy'd;
For after he had left Calypso's house,
Warm and sweet water he had never seen,
But roll'd by Neptune always was in souse,
But had with her carefully treated been.
When him the maids wash'd and anointed had,
Out from the bath he came amongst the men,
With a clean cloak and comely garments clad.
To th' door the bright Nausicaa came then,
And to Ulysses said, Stranger, farewell,
And may you safely at your land arrive;
Remember that into my hand you fell,
And owe to me that you were kept alive.
O, said Ulysses, daughter of the king,
To you the ransom of my life is due,
And if the Gods me to my country bring,
As to a Goddess I will pray to you.
This said, he went and sat down by the king.
And now the meat in messes some divided,
Others the lusty wine were tempering,
And by a squire the singer in was guided,
And at a pillar in the midst made sit.
Ulysses half a chine of pork and fat
Cuts off, and in the squire's hands putteth it,
And said unto him, Give the singer that;
Singers through all the world have reputation,
And well respected be in ev'ry land;
The Muses teach them song, and love the nation.
Then went the squire and put it in his hand;
Demodocus received it and was glad.
Then fell they to the meat before them laid.
When thirst and hunger overcome they had,
Unto the singer then Ulysses said:
Demodocus, you all men else excel.
The Muses sure did teach you, or it was
Phoebus himself. For you have sung so well
The acts that did 'twixt Greeks and Trojans pass,
And all related that they did at Troy,
Or suffer'd there, or when they homeward came,
As if yourself beheld had their annoy,
Or had from some spectator heard the same.
Stand forth and sing now of the horse of wood
Made by Epeius, but by Pallas help'd,
Stuff'd by Ulysses full of warriors good,
Which in Troy town destruction to it whelp'd:
If this you sing in order as 'twas done,
I'll make the world with your just praises ring.
Then at the Gods Demodocus begun,
And how the fleet went off the shore did sing;
And how they fir'd their tents; and how the lords
Of Greece i' th' council of the Trojans sate,
Inclos'd and hidden in the horse of boards,
That by the Trojans was fetch'd in in state.
The Trojans sitting round about debate,
And many a foolish speech they uttered,
And on three points they there deliberate,
And voted what the Gods determined.
The three points which were most insisted on,
Were, whether they should cut the horse in twain,
Or throw it down the rock it stood upon,
Or let it, to appease the Gods, remain.
r th' end they all resolved on the last.
For by the Fates it was determined
That Ilium should then be layed waste,
When o'er its walls a great horse entered,
And in his belly brought the enemy.
And how the Argives from the horse came out,
How divers ways they went and cruelly
Killed and burned as they went about.
Ulysses then, like Mars, with Menelaus
Unto Deiphobus together hie,
And for awhile there sharp the battle was,
But to Ulysses fell the victory.
This sung Demodocus. And then upon
Ulysses' cheeks the tears ran down apace.
As when in fight a woman looketh on,
And sees her husband fallen on the place,
That fought had for his town and children dear;
There sprawleth he, she o'er him falls and cries,
But back and shoulders is well basted there,
And carried captive by the enemy.
As wofully as then this woman wept,
So wofully Ulysses now sheds tears;
But from the king it was not secret kept,
Who sitting next him all his groaning hears.
And speaking to the princes sitting by,
Let us, said he, Demodocus release,
His song not pleaseth all the company;
It makes the stranger's sorrow to increase,
And brings some grief or other to his mind.
Then let him hold; that we and he together
May in this meeting equal pleasure find.
The cause we met here was his coming hither,
That we might give him gifts and send him hence.
A guest is as a brother to be used,
As all men know that but pretend to sense.
And you, my guest, you cannot be excus'd,
If you not answer truth to all I ask.
Say what's the name your parents call you by?
You must no longer now keep on your mask,
Children new-born not long unnamed lie;
Tell me your land and city where it
That my good ship may know where you would be,
For in Phœacia no steersman is,
Nor rudder as in other ships you see;
Whither men bid them go they understand,
And pass in clouds concealed o'er the main,
And where the havens be in every land.
No fear they have of perishing or pain,
And yet my father to me once did say,
That with our convoys Neptune was offended,
And that one day our good ship to destoy
As it returned homewards he intended,
And from men hide our city with a hill.
But whether that shall be performed now,
I cannot tell. It lies in Neptune's will,
And not concerneth you at all to know.
But tell me now what lands you wand'ring saw,
What nations, and what cities you came to;
What kind of people, civil, or without law;
Civil or kind to strangers, godly or no.
When you heard sung the woful fate of Troy,
Why did you weep ? The Gods that built the town
Decreed thereat much people to destroy,
And that their fate should be sung up and down.
Lost you some kinsmen there or near ally,
Which might in time of danger you bestead ?
Or some good friend ? A wise friend standing by
Is worth a kinsman in a time of need.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. IX.
Ulysses relates, first, what befell him amongst the Cicones at Ismarus. Secondly, amongst the Lotophagi. Thirdly, how he was used by the Cyclops Polyphemus.
To this Ulysses said: Renowned king
Alcinous, methinks delightful 'tis
To sit as we do here, and hear one sing,
And specially so good a voice as this.
I, for my part, do never more rejoice,
Than when I see men sitting at their meat
Cheerful, and list'ning to a pleasant voice,
And see the cups go often and retreat.
This is a thing that I love best; but you
Had rather hear the dangers I have pass'd,
Which fright me yet, and do my pain renew.
But which shall I tell first? which next? which last?
For they be many. First my name I'll tell,
And place, that whensoe'er you thither come
You may there lodge, although far off I dwell,
And am uncertain of my getting home.
I am Ulysses Laertiades,
And far and wide I am reputed wise
'Mongst men that love subtile conveyances,
And known I am by fame up to the skies.
My place is Ithaca, in which is store
Of wool. Mount Neriton is cloth'd with wood,
A goodly hill; and many islands more
Lie close about it, yielding store of food.
Dulichium, Same, and the woody Zant,
On th'east of Ithaca are situate.
Another island, which is called Ant,
Lies westward of it, but is low and flat.
Rocky is Ithaca, and uneven ground;
But breedeth able men. Nor have I known
The man that to his own mind ever found
A country that was better than his own.
From mine Calypso kept me in a cave,
T'have been her husband; so did Circe too:
But neither of them my consent could have,
So much could love of my own country do;
For though far off I might have better land,
Yet should I from my kindred absent live.
But now 'tis time to let you understand
What passage to me Jove was pleas'd to give.
From Troy to Ismarus we first were blown,
Within an isle, Cicons the natives are;
And soon we plundered and burnt the town,
And of the plunder each man had his share.
The wives we prisoners made, and to the sword
We put the men: and then without delay
I did command them all to go aboard;
But they, fools as they were, would not obey:
For they to kill, eat, drink, themselves apply,
Beeves, sheep, and wine, which they had on the beach.
Cicons meanwhile to Cicons so loud cry,
That to the continent their voices reach;
And presently came others, numberless
As leaves in summer; stout and men of skill,
To fight on horseback with much readiness,
Or else on foot, according as they will
Jove had decreed us mischief, and the hour
Was come: and just before our ships we fought,
Spears were our weapons, which with all our power
We lanced on both sides with courage stout.
Whilst the sun mounted we resisted well,
But after noon they pressed us so sore,
That with the falling sun our courage fell;
And then in haste we thrust our ships from shore.
From out of every ship six men we lost:
And then with heavy hearts our sails we hoist,
And grieved for our fellows left the coast;
But first to ev'ry of them called thrice
Whom slain by th' enemy we left behind.
Then Jove with clouds both land and water veils,
And night came on us with a furious wind
From the north part of heaven, and tore our sails
In threes and fours, and all our ships were tost
Hither and thither, sideways with their blasts,
And one another's way hindered and crost.
Then took we in our sails, and down our masts,
For fear of death, and laid them on the decks,
And with our oars rowed our ships to land;
Two nights and days we staid, while grief did vex
Each mind, and labour tired had each hand.
But when the morn had led forth the third day,
We then set sail, and left their course to th' wind ;
The which (we sitting still) did them convey
According as the steersmen had design'd.
And I had safely come to Ithaca,
Had not the north wind with the tide o' th' sea,
When I was come to th' Cape of Malea,
Forced us without the isle of Cyther6.
The horrid winds now found me on the main,
And toss'd me into one another's hand.
Nine days together I endur'd this pain;
Upon the tenth they cast me on a land
Where dwell a people call'd Lotophagi,
That have and live upon a fruit full sweet
I'th'continent. We went ashore; there I
Made them take in fresh water for the fleet.
Then having quickly supp'd, I chose out two
Of my companions to go and see
What men they were; with them I sent also
A third, who went as messenger from me.
They quickly went; but mingled with those men,
Who meant no harm, but gave them lote to eat,
Which made them hate returning back again,
And suddenly their country to forget:
And with the people there resolv'd to stay,
forgetting home tor love of lote. But I
Sent those that quickly fetched them away
By force, and under hatches did them tie.
The rest I bade unto their ships to haste,
Lest eating lote they should return no more.
Aboard they quickly come, and each one plac'd
In order, beats the grey sea with his oar.
Then to the land of Cyclopses we row,
Men proud and lawless, that rely for food
Upon the sky, and neither plant nor plough;
Yet have they barley, wheat, wine very good,
Unplough'd, unsown, fetch'd up by show'rs of rain.
They have no courts of counsel, nor of right.
On high huge hills themselves they entertain,
And in their rocky bellies pass the night.
Each man gives law to his own wife and brood:
Nor do they much for one another care.
Before the port an isle lies clad with wood,
Not very near, nor from it very far.
Wild goats in great abundance were therein :
Because there dwelt no man that might them kill,
Nor wretched hunters ever enter in,
To tire themselves running from hill to hill.
For the good ship with the vermilion cheeks
The Cyclopses have not, nor art to make
All that is needful for a man that seeks
Trade, and to pass the seas must undertake.
The island else they quickly might adorn.
The land is good; to th' sea sweet meadows lie,
And plentifully would yield wine and corn,
If it were helped with good husbandry.
Anchors and cables in the port needs none,
Nor any rope to tie the ship to land;
And when the master thinks fit to be gone,
With the first wind they take the oar in hand.
Within the entrance riseth a sweet spring
From out a cave, shaded with poplars tall;
Thither to shore our ships we safely bring.
Some God was guide. Nothing we saw at all.
Dark night it was, and nothing to be seen;
The air about us thick, and from the sky
The moon could not shine through the clouds between;
Nor waves, nor isle appear'd to any eye.
Then took we in our sails, and went to land,
And waited for the coming of the day,
And in the mean time slumbered on the sand;
But when we saw appear the morning gay,
Admiring th' isle, we walked to and fro,
Whilst the nymphs (sprung from Jove Ægiochus)
Refreshment on my soldiers to bestow,
Down from the mountain brought the goats to us.
And presently from out our ships we take
Our bows and arrows keen and came away,
And of our company three troops we make;
Then shooting, soon we had a lovely prey.
Our ships were twelve, to which they equally
Divide the spoil; for every ship had nine,
Save only mine had ten:
then merrily
All day we sit and feast on flesh and wine;
For we had wine enough as yet unspent,
Of that we got and brought away with us,
Which ev'ry man had into budgets pent,
Then when we took the town of Ismarus.
Close by we saw the land of Cyclopses,
And smoke, and heard the voice o'th'men, and sheep
And goats. 'Twas night, and on the sand o'th'sea
Ourselves till morning we refreshed with sleep.
But when the rosy morning 'gan t'appear,
My fellows I together call'd, and spake:
You, my companions, by the ships stay here;
I with my ship and crew will undertake
A trial of this people, whether wild,
And proud, and insolent their nature be,
Or whether they be men of nature mild,
Godly, and loving hospitality.
This said, I went aboard, and bade my crew
Embark themselves. Aboard they quickly come,
And sitting each man in his order due,
With stroke of oar they made the gray sea foam.
Arriv'd, we of a cavern saw the door,
Both high and wide, and sheep and goats there lay
Abundance sleeping. It was shaded o'er
With boughs that downward grew of laurel gay.
Before it was a court well fenced with stone,
And lusty oaks, and many a pine tree high.
I' th' cave a giant lodged, who used alone
His sheep to feed, no other Cyclops nigh.
It was a huge and ugly monster, and
Look'd not unlike a rocky mountain's head
That does 'mongst other hills asunder stand,
With a great perriwig of trees o'erspread.
Then bade I my companions to stay
And guard the ship, save that by lot a dozen
I took of them along with me, and they,
By chance, were the same men I would have chosen.
With me I took a goatskin full of wine,
Pleasant and strong, by Maron given me,
Evanthes son, priest to Phœbus divine,
At Ismarus, to save his family,
Fearing the God in whose grove he did live;
For which s ven talents of pure beaten gold,
And a large silver bowl he did me give
Freely, besides twelve budgets of wine old,
Pure, pleasant, precious drink it was, which none
Knew of besides himself, his wife and maid ;
Of the men servants that he kept, not one.
Which, when he drank, he usually allay'd
With water pure, full twenty times as much;
And when a man so temper'd had his cup,
Yet still the fragrant smell thereof was such,
He hardly could forbear to drink it up.
This goatskin I took with me in a case,
Expecting of some great and ghastly man,
That knew not law, nor right, to see the face;
And landing, quickly to the den we ran.
We entered in, but did not find him there;
But gaze we did at every thing with wonder:
Shelves full of cheese, as much as they could bear,
Pens full of sheep and goats, each sort asunder,
Old, younger, youngest; all vessels to the brim,
Pans, trays, and milking pails were full of whey.
My men desir'd me not to stay for him,
But make what haste I could to get away,
And take some of his cheeses from the shelves,
And sheep from out the pens, and then to go,
And setting up our sails to save ourselves.
But I would not, though 'thad been better so.
But I desired to see the man, and try
If from him some good gift I might obtain;
But they with fear were ready for to die,
And could not think upon him but with pain.
Then kindled we a fire, and kill'd and fed
On flesh and cheese, and for his coming staid.
He came, and a great burden carried
Of withered boughs, which at the door he laid.
His supper with this wood he meant to dress,
And threw it down with such a hideous noise,
As frighted us to th' innermost recess
O' th' cave ; there lay we, and supprest our voice.
Into the cave he comes, he and his flock,
All that was milch; the males he left without,
Rams and he goats, and the door with a rock
Stops up, which two-and-twenty carts scarce mought
Bear above ground, and then to milking fell;
But first he sets unto each ewe her lamb,
In order due, to see them suckled well,
And each young goat he puts under her dam.
Half of the milk he turned to curds, and put
Them into wicker baskets to set up:
The other half he into tankards put,
For drink to serve him when he was to sup.
When he had ended all his business,
He made a fire, and thereby spied us out.
What are you, says he, whence d' ye cross the seas ?
Is it on business, or d' ye rove about
As pirates walk at sea, to and agen,
And are content to set their lives at stake,
So they may mischief do to other men?
Our hearts dismayed before, this language brake.
We fear'd his hollow voice, and body great;
But yet I made him answer, and said thus:
We are Achaeans, making our retreat
Homewards from Troy, but winds have forced us
Upon this coast (for Jove would have it so.)
We are a part of Agamemnon's bands,
Whose glory for his sacking Troy is now
Renown'd both far and wide throughout all lands.
And now ourselves we prostrate at your feet,
Hoping for some good thing as visitants,
Such as all men have commonly thought meet;
Or, for the Gods' sake, as to suppliants.
As suppliants we before you here do lie,
With whom, and strangers, Jove still goes along;
He is the God of hospitality,
To punish whosoever does them wrong.
Thus I. But he replied with fell intent:
Stranger, thou art a fool, or com'st from far,
That counsel'st me to fear the punishment
Of Jove, or for the blessed Gods to care.
The Cyclopses care not at all for Jove
Ægiochus, or any other Gods.
For why, we stronger are than those above;
And if we strength compare, we have the odds.
No, no, 'tis not the fear of Jupiter
Can me from thee, or these with thee, restrain,
Unless I please. But tell me truly where
The ship that brought you rides, and do not feign.
This was to sound me. But I saw his mind,
And a deceitful answer did intend.
My ship was wreck'd by Neptune, and by wind
Thrown 'gainst the rocks at the land's furthest end,
Where all besides myself and these were drown'd.
To this he answer'd nothing, nor said more,
But snatching up a couple from the ground,
Knocks out their brains, like whelps against the floor;
Then cuts them into joints, and on them fed;
Nor did he flesh, or bone, or entrails leave,
Like hungry lion on the mountains bred.
Then weep we, and to Jove our hands upheave
To see such work, and have no remedy.
When he with human flesh his belly deep
Had fill'd, and drunk the milk that stood him by,
He laid himself along amongst his sheep,
And slept. And then I saw I might him slay:
'Twas but to draw my good sword from my side.
And gently on his breast my hand to lay,
And to the hilt my sword in's body hide.
Upon new thoughts that purpose I gave o'er,
For certainly it had destroyed us quite;
So great the stone was that lay on the door,
That to remove it was past all our might.
So there we sighing stay'd for day: and when
The rosy-finger'd morning did appear,
He made a fire, and milk'd his flock again,
And the young kids and lambs new suckled were.
When all his work was at an end and past,
Two more of my companions he takes,
And on those two he quickly breaks his fast,
And for his flock the way he open makes.
For easily he took the stone away,
And then again with no less ease he did
Set up the same, and in its right place lay,
Than of a quiver one would do the lid.
His flock with noise he drives up to the hills,
And in the den leaves us to meditate
How to revenge, with Phœbus' help, our ills.
At last within my breast this counsel sate.
Near one o' th' pens there lay an olive-tree,
Straight, and the boughs cut off, which, when 'twas dried,
Designed was a walking staff to be
Of the great Cyclops; which when we espied,
Of some good ship we thought might be the mast,
Or of a bark of twenty oars or more,
That Neptune's rugged waters might have passed
With a great burthen safe from shore to shore.
Of this a fathom I cut off, and gave it
To my companions to taper it:
They smoothed and taper'd it as I would have it,
I sharpened it at point as I thought fit.
Then in the fire the same I hard'ned well,
And laid it by with dung all cover'd o'er,
Which in the cave from so much cattle fell;
For sheep and goats there always was good store.
From all my company who did not fear
To help me thrust this bar into his eye,
I took out four by lot, and such they were
As I myself did wish; and fifth was I.
At evening he returneth with his sheep,
Into the hollow cave he brings them all:
Without, he neither sheep nor goat did keep,
By presage, or upon some heavily call.
Then with the stone the cave's mouth up he dams,
And milks his she-goats and his ewes each one,
And suckles all his young kids and his lambs.
But after he his work had fully done,
Another couple of my men he took.
Then having in my hand an ivy can
Of good black wine, I thus unto him spoke:
Cyclops, since you have eaten flesh of man,
Here, drink this good black wine upon't, and see
What excellent good drink we had aboard,
Whereof I've hither brought a taste to thee,
Hoping you will some kindness me afford,
And some assistance in our voyage home;
But so intolerably furious
You are, that no man will dare near you come,
Knowing how cruel you have been to us.
When I had said, the good wine he drank up,
And was extremely pleased with the same;
And straightway calling for another cup,
Tell me, quoth he, right now what is thy name;
And I will give thee that shall please thy heart.
We Cyclopses have vines that yield good wine,
Which from the earth by rain from heaven start;
But this some branch of nectar is divine.
When he had said, I gave him wine again;
Three times I fill'd the can, and he as oft
Drank't off. But when it came up to his brain,
Then spake I to him gentle words and soft:
Cyclops, since you my name desire to know,
I'll tell it you, and on your word rely.
My name is Noman, all men call me so,
My father, mother, and my company.
To which he soon and sadly made reply,
Noman, I'll eat you last, none shall outlive you
Of all that are here of your company;
And that's the gift I promised to give you.
And having said, he laid himself along
With bended neck, sleeping and vomiting
Gobbets of human flesh, and wine among,
All he before had eaten uttering.
The bar with embers then I covered,
Till, green as 'twas, with heat I made it shine,
And with few words my men encouraged,
Lest any should have shrunk from the design.
The bar now hot, and ready to flame out,
And, though green wood, yet glowing mightily,
To him my fellows carried now stout,
And set the point thereof upon his eye;
But I myself erecting, with my hand
Twirled the bar about, with motion nimble,
As joiners with a string below do stand
To give a piercing motion with a wimble,
So, whilst the brand was entering, I it turn'd.
The blood that down along it ran was hot,
And with his eye the lids and brows were burn'd,
And all his eye-strings with the fire did strut,
As when a smith hath heat his axe or spade,
And quickly quenches it while hot it
To harden it, it makes a noise; so made
His great moist eye the glowing brand to hiss.
He roared so as made the rocks resound,
And from his eye he pull'd, with both his hands,
The burning brand, and threw it to the ground;
And so awhile he there amazed stands,
And thence for more Cyclopses calls; and they,
Who dwelt about in every hollow cave,
Came in, some one, and some another way;
And from without the den ask'd what he'd have.
What ails thee, Polyphemus, so to cry
In dead of night, and make us break our sleep ?
Goes any one about to make thee die,
By force or fraud, or steal away thy sheep ?
Then Polyphemus answered from his cave,
Friends, Noman killeth me.
Why then, said they,
We have no power from sickness you to save;
You must unto your father Neptune pray.
This said, they parted each one to his own
Dark cavern ; then within myself I laugh'd
To think how with my name the mighty clown
I so deceived had, and gull'd by craft.
The Cyclops for the stone now grop'd about,
Found it, and threw it down, though pained sore;
Thinking to catch us at our coming out,
Sitting with arms extended in the door,
Such fools he thought us; but I formerly
Had thought upon the course I was to take;
And all my cunning, and my art to try,
Since no less than our lives was now at stake,
This counsel 'twas that in my breast then sat:
Male sheep there were within the cave well fed,
Fair, big, and deeply clad in wool and fat,
And these, with twigs ta'en from Cyclops his bed,
I bound together three and three; each three
Bore one under the middlemost fast bound;
One ram, by far the best of all, bore me
Under his breast, my hands in deep wool wound,
Thus hung we constantly, expecting day.
The morning came, the males to pasture hie,
(The ewes with strutting udders bleating stay),
Their master sitting there in misery,
Laid's hand upon their backs as out they pass'd,
Ne'er thinking of their bellies we were under.
Mine, heavy with his wool and me, came last,
To whom the Cyclops said, seeming to wonder,
Why, silly rani, art thou the last to come
Out of the cave, that formerly was ever
The foremost to go out, and to come home,
And foremost at the going to the river;
But now art last ? Is't for thy master's eye,
Which Noman and his fellows have put forth ?
O couldst thou speak, and tell me where doth lie
Hidden within, that Noman, nothing worth,
I soon would with his brains besmear the floor,
And ease my vexed heart within me so,
Which Noman hath within me wounded sore.
This said, he let the ram that bore me go.
Got forth a little from the den and yard,
I left my ram, and set my fellows free;
Unto my ships I brought part of the herd,
That to our fellows we might welcome be,
We that escap'd ; but they began to weep
For those we left behind us dead, till I
Commanded them to fetch aboard more sheep,
And after that their oars again to ply.
They brought in more, and each man takes his seat,
And in due order, with his oar in hand,
The water grey into a foam they beat,
And rowed us a little way from land,
As far as one that hallos can be heard;
So far I stood from shore, I hallo'd then:
Cyclops, Cyclops, why were you not afraid
To kill and eat, as you have done, my men ?
For since you strangers do so ill intreat,
And of the Gods themselves no reckoning make,
You ought to have expected vengeance great,
And that your wicked deeds should you overtake.
The Cyclops then provoked with this mock,
Threw a great stone at us with all his might,
And first he swing'd round o'er his head the rock,
Which just behind the rudder chanc'd to light;
And so much stirr'd the water falling in,
That what with th' eddy and tide from the main,
Brought back to th' land, and sure we dead had bin,
But that I quickly thrust it off again;
Then bade I my companions to row
Still further off, till we were out of fear.
They plied their oars again, and we were now
At twice the distance that before we were.
And then again I to the Cyclops spoke,
Though my companions would have hindered me:
Why, say they, will you still the man provoke ?
How great a stone, how far he throws you see,
How near to land we were, how near to die;
If he but any one of us hear speak,
A rock will straightway from him hither fly,
And knock our brains out, and our vessel break.
So said they; but with me could nothing do,
I was resolv'd to vex him bitterly.
Cyclops, quoth I, if any ask thee who,
What was his name that robbed thee of thy eye,
Say 'twas Ulysses, prince of Ithaca,
Son to the old Laertes. He it was.
At which the Cyclops howling answered, Ha,
I see old prophecies are come to pass,
For Telemus Eurymedes, that here
Dwelled, and telling fortunes went about,
Told me I should by name Ulysses fear,
As he that one day should my eye put out;
But I some strong and mighty man expected,
Of stature great, should come to do that deed,
And never such a little wretch suspected,
Nor ever did of being drunk take heed.
But come, Ulysses, nearer, that I may
Give you a precious gift as you deserve ;
And also to my father Neptune pray,
That you upon the seas he would preserve;
For I his son, and he my father is,
And to my sight again restore me can;
He, and no other of the Gods in bliss,
Nor any pow'r on earth. So said the man.
Cyclops, quoth I, I would I could as well
Send thee now down to Pluto's ugly den,
Depriv'd of life and soul i' th' deepest hell,
As I am sure thou ne'er shalt see again.
Then held he up his hands to heav'n, and pray'd:
Hear me, O Neptune, if thy son I be,
And thou my father truly, as 'tis said,
Grant that Ulysses never more may see
His native soil; or if perhaps by Fate
It be decreed he shall return again,
Let him return both wretchedly and late,
His ships and men lost, and at home meet pain.
His prayer granted was; and then he threw
A greater stone, first swing'd it o'er his head,
Which by good chance above the vessel flew,
But almost to the shore us carried.
When we were come into the isle again,
Where all the rest of our fleet then abode,
Expecting our return, in grievous pain,
And wondering why we were so long abroad;
Then with our sheep we landed on the beach,
And 'mongst the barks divided them with care,
Their just and equal number unto each,
That no ship might be wronged of his share.
On me my fellows over and above
Bestow'd a ram, which on the sand there-right
I made a sacrifice to mighty Jove ;
But in my off'rings he took no delight,
And was contriving how to make away
My ship and fellows, and destroy them quite.
There on the shore we sat and spent the day.
With flesh and wine from morning unto night.
All night we slept upon the shore, and when
The morning had again the day restored,
I presently commanded all my men
To loose the ropes, and put themselves aboard.
Aboard they go, and beat the sea with oars,
All for their fellows that were eaten, sad,
And forward to the main we take our course,
For that we had ourselves escaped, glad.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. X.
Ulysses' entertainment by Æolus, of whom he receives a fair wind for the present, and all the rest of the winds tied in a bag; which his men untying, flew out and carried him back to Æolus, who refused to receive him.
AT th' floating Isle Æolia we landed,
Where JEolus, the son of Hippotas,
Beloved of th' immortal Gods, commanded.
His house was walled all about with brass,
Th' ascent unto it was all one smooth stone.
Twelve were his children, six sons and their wives;
In wedlock he had join'd them one to one,
And with him in his house they led their lives,
And made good cheer; all day the house they make
To ring with mirth, and smoke with boil'd and roast;
At night their loyal wives to beds they take,
Richly set out with coverings of great cost.
A month he entertained me with delight,
Ask'd me of Troy, and th' Argive fleet, and how
The Greeks got home. And him I answer'd right
To ev'ry thing, as far as I did know.
And when I left his house, he was content
T' assist me friendly in ray voyage back
With a west wind, and all winds else he pent
Into a tough and strong neat's-leather sack;
(For Jove had made him master of the winds,
To hold their breath, or blow as he thought fit),
And with a silver string the sack he binds;
No wind could stir but as I ordered it,
But all this did no good for want of wit.
Nine days we sail'd fore-right, and came so near
To th' coast of Ithaca, that we could see't
By th' light of beacons that were fired there;
But then with weariness I fell asleep;
For I had ne'er till now the helm let go,
Nor suffer'd any else my place to keep,
I long'd to see my native country so.
Meanwhile my fellows to discourse begin,
Thinking much gold and silver was i' th' sack,
By AEolus Hippodates put in,
Which now to Ithaca I carried back.
And, Oh, did one unto another say,
How much this man is lov'd where'er he comes!
He brings from Troy a great share of the prey,
Though we go empty-handed to our homes.
Now AEolus has given him God knows what;
Come quickly, let us while we think upon't,
And sleeping he upon the deck lies flat,
Undo the sack and see how much there's on't.
This wretched counsel taken by the crew,
The budget they undid, to see my store;
And then at once the furious winds outflew,
And whistling, snatch'd our ship away from shore.
My fellows wept, I studied which was best,
To fall into the sea and end my pain,
Or patiently to live among the rest?
I chose to live, as better of the twain,
And hoodwink'd laid me down i' th' ship. At last
We found ourselves upon th' Æolian shore,
On which th' unruly winds our ship had cast,
Just at the place where we set forth before :
And there we landed, and short supper made
With my companions on the rocky shore.
I one man with me and a herald take,
And went up to the porch before the door
Of th' hall, where Æolus sat banqueting
Amongst his sons and daughters. They admir'd.
What wind, said they, did you now hither bring?
We furnish'd you for what place you desir'd.
Some devil cross'd you. Softly, I replied.
Of our misfortune other cause was none
But my men's folly, who the bag untied
The whilst I slept; you can repair what's done.
Their father answer'd at another rate :
Hence, rascal, hated of the Gods above:
I entertain none whom the Gods do hate.
Away, I say, the Gods thee do not love.
Thus sighing we were sent away; and though
We were already tired with the oar,
To sea we put, and forward still we row,
Six days and nights entire, ne'er giving o'er.
Upon the seventh day we landed near
To Lestrigonia, the royal seat
Of Lamus and his race ; the herd's-men there,
When from the field they bring their sheep or neat,
Hallo to those at home; then they a-field
Their cattle drive. To one of little sleep
The site o' tli' place doth double wages yield,
By tending one day cows, another sheep.
For it is seated just 'twixt day and night;
Into the port we came, the which within
On each side was beset with rocks upright,
Whereof two made it narrow coming in.
My fellows with their ships were in the port,
Near to the city ; for the sea was still,
And not a wind stirring of any sort.
But I kept mine without, suspecting ill,
And with a rope had tied it to the rocks.
Then up a hill I went to look about,
But could no sign espy of man or ox ;
Then down I came again, and straight sent out
T' enquire what kind of people lived there.
A herald then and two men more I sent,
Who as they going on the high-way were,
That from the woody hill to the city went,
Met with the daughter of Antiphates,
That was of Lestrigonians the king.
She had fetcht water from Artracies;
Artracies the name was of a spring.
They ask'd her of the king, and of the people,
Her father's house she shows. They thither hie,
And find the queen there looking like a steeple,
And straight abhor'd her as a prodigy.
Then she her husband from the market-place
Calls home, who straight intended to dispatch 'em,
And laid his hands on one; but in that space
The rest escap'd by flight, he could not catch 'em ;
But then he raised with a mighty shout
The town and country, who in numbers great,
Liker to giants than to men, came out,
And with huge stones of a man's weight they beat
My men and ships. A woful noise and wild
I heard of dying men, and tearing planks.
When they had slain my men, they them enfil'd,
And carried them like fishes hung in ranks.
While they did this, 1 had no other hope
To save myself, but quickly with my sword,
My ship being tied to th' rocks, to cut the rope,
And make what haste I could to get aboard.
My crew into the ship leapt all at once,
And row'd for life, till they got far enough
From land, to stand in fear of throwing stones,
And glad they had escaped, onwards row;
The rest, both ships and men, all perished.
Next at Æaea Isle ashore we run,
Where the wise Goddess Circ' inhabited,
Æetes' sister, daughter of the Sun,
And Perse daughter of Oceanus;
There in a good safe harbour quietly
We rest ourselves ; some God conducted us.
There full of grief two days and nights we lie.
Soon as the morn had shown us the third day,
With spear in hand, and sword girt at my thigh,
Up to a mountain's top I took my way,
Some word of man to hear, or work to spy;
Through the thick wood I saw a smoke arise
About the place where th' house of Circe stood:
Then with myself I did awhile advise
What I should do; at last I thought it good
To make my people all to dine, and then
Safely with company to go or send.
So back I came unto my ship and men;
But by the way (some God was sure my friend)
A gallant stag came by, whom heat and thirst
Invited had down to the stream divine;
At him I quickly threw my spear, which pierc'd
Both his sides thorough, close beneath the chine.
Down dead he falls; on's neck my foot I set,
Pluck'd out the spear, and laid it on the ground;
To make a rope, I twigs and rushes get,
And his four feet together fast I bound ;
Within his legs I place my head, and bear
His body on my neck ; 'twas hard to rise.
Leaning with both my hands upon my spear:
lie was too great to take up otherwise.
I threw him down o' th' shore, and cheer'd my crew.
Friends, quoth I, though our present state be bad,
Death shall not come, I hope, before 'tis due:
Come, let us cut and drink, and not be sad.
This said, they straightway from the ship descend,
And gaze upon 't, for 'twas a mighty beast:
And when their wondering was at an end,
They wash'd their hands, and dress'd it for their feast;
And all the remnant of the day till night
We made good cheer with wine and ven'son store.
After the sun had borne from us his light,
We laid us down to sleep upon the shore;
But when the rosy morn appear'd again,
I said to all my men, who grieved were:
My mates, although I have endur'd much pain,
I must entreat you patiently to hear;
We know not where is west or east, nor where
The sun does rise or set, nor where we be;
To me does little hope as yet appear,
And therefore we must go abroad and see.
In a low island, rising through the trees,
I saw a smoke when I stood on the hill;
Though I had utter'd no more words but these,
They heard them with a very evil will.
Of Cyclops and Antiphates they speak,
That had devoured their fellows formerly:
And ready were their hearts with grief to break;
They weep and whine, but without remedy.
Of my companions then two bands I make;
Of one Eurylochus had the command,
The charge o' th' other to myself I take:
And two-and-twenty men were in each band.
Who should go first abroad, and who should stay,
We were content should be by lot defin'd;
To go, fell to Eurylochus. Away
They weeping went, we weeping stayed behind ;
Down in a dale they Circe's palace found,
Built of square stone; the place was full of shade:
Lions and wolves about it lay o' th' ground,
Whom Circe tame with magic arts bath made;
These flew not at my men, but laid their noses
Upon them lovingly, and wagg'd their tails,
As dogs salute their masters; Circe's doses
So much above their natures fierce prevail.
Eurylochus i' th' door stood with his band.
The Goddess Circe busy was within ;
For she a wondrous fine-work had in hand,
Past art of man, and sung as she did spin.
Then did Polites, whom I lov'd most dear
Of all my crew, speak out unto them all:
My friends, quoth he, somebody singeth there,
A Goddess or a woman; let us call.
This said, they call, and she sets ope the gate,
Bids them come in; fools as they were, they enter,
All but Eurylochus ; without he sat,
Suspecting somewhat, therefore durst not venture.
She places them, and sets before them food,
Cheesecakes of cheese, and honey, flour and wine ;
But had mix'd something with it not so good,
Of wondrous virtue, with an ill design.
r or with a wand, as soon as they had din'd,
She drove them to the sties, and there them pent:
For body, head, hair, voice, all but the mind,
Right swine they were, and grunted as they went;
There to them threw she acorns, crabs and bran,
The things wherewith swine commonly are fed.
Eurylochus stayed long, but not a man
Came out to let him know how they had sped.
Then back he comes: at first he could not speak,
Though he endeavoured; he grieved so,
The sighs and sobs his words did often break,
Till urg'd by us that long'd the truth to know ;
At last he said, Renown'd Ulysses, we
Passing the woods, as we commanded were,
In a dark vale a stately palace see ;
A Goddess, or a woman, dwelleth there.
We call'd, and straight she opening the gate,
Bids us come in; they ill advised enter,
All but myself; alone without I sat,
Suspecting fraud, and durst no further venture.
Lost they are all: for if they could, I know
Some of them would have come and brought me word,
For I stay'd long enough ;
this said, my bow
I took, and at my side my trusty sword,
And bad him guide me back the self-same way.
Then fell he at my feet on both his knees,
And weeping me entreats to let him stay;
Your life, quoth he, amongst the rest you'll leese.
To this I said: Eurylochus, stay you
Here at the ship, since you are frighted so,
Eating and drinking with the rest o' th' crew ;
Necessity compelleth me to go.
This said, I went along the shore, till I
Was at the entrance of the valley, where
The house of Circe stood. Then Mercury
Encounter'd me; in form he did appear
Of a fair youth, whose beard but now began
In a soft down to peep above his face,
Which is the prime of beauty in a man.
Alas, said he, what make you in this place
'Mongst trees and shrubs ? For I can tell you this,
Your mates at Circe's house are lodg'd in sties,
They now are swine; you'll of your purpose miss ;
You cannot set them free though you be wise,
But rather you will with them lie. But well;
I'll give you such an antidote as you
Need not to be afraid of any spell;
And will, besides, her purpose to you show.
To make you drink she'll temper you a cup,
Which shall not, for the antidote, bewitch you;
And when she sees that you have drank it up,
With her long wand she presently will switch you.
Then to her with your naked sword in hand,
As if you purposed to cut off her head;
Then she will shriek, and weep, and trembling stand,
And buy her life with proffer of her bed;
You must not then refuse the Goddess' love,
If you intend your fellows to restore:
Yet make her swear by all the Gods above
She never will attempt to hurt you more.
Then gave he me the herb; the flow'r was white,
The root was black; the Gods do call it Moly,
And gather it, who have no stint of might;
For men to think to find it is a folly.
Then Hermes parting, mounted to the sky,
And I to Circe's house went on my way,
And musing stood awhile; but by and by
I call'd, and she came forth without delay,
And calls me in. I enter with sad heart;
There in a glorious chair she made me sit,
Studded with silver nails, and carv'd with art;
Then puts a low stool to it for my feet,
And brought the potion in a golden cup,
Which she had tempered to her bad design ;
And soon as ever I had drank it up,
She switch'd and bad me go lie with the swine.
Then start I up with my drawn sword, and make
As if I purpos'd to cut off her head;
Then did she shriek most fearfully and quake,
And weeping to me these words uttered:
Who, whence are you ? what is your father's name ?
That this drink worketh not, is very strange,
If any else had tasted but the same,
He soon had of his figure found a change;
But you a stubborn heart have in your breast.
Are you Ulysses, that should hither come,
As Hermes told me oft, and be my guest,
When from the Trojan shore he sailed home?
Put up your sword; and that we may confide
In one another better without dread,
Let's to my chamber go, and side by side
Compose the things we differ in a bed.
Circe, said I, oh how can I be kind,
When you to swine my fellows turned have ?
And now you have me here, 'tis in your mind
To make me tame, and keep me for a slave.
I'll not come near your bed, unless before
You take an oath by all the Gods above
You'll never go about to hurt me more;
This said, she swore, and I gave way to love.
Un Circe waiting-women four attended
To do the service of the house, and were
From sacred rivers, springs, and groves descended;
Each had her proper work assigned her.
One does the chairs with coverings array ;
Another does the silver tables spread,
And on each one of them a basket by
Of gold, and into it she puts the bread;
The third does in a silver flagon mix
The wine and water in a silver pot;
The fourth to make a fire brings in the sticks,
And for a bath makes ready water hot.
Circe herself the water tempered
Into a just and comfortable heat,
And pour'd it on my shoulders and my head,
Washing my limbs, till I my toil forget.
And when I bathed and anointed was,
She put upon me a fair coat and vest,
And led me in, into the dining-place,
And to my chair and table me address'd.
One maid a golden bason, with the ewer,
To wash our hands over a cauldron brings,
The cauldron also was of silver pure;
Another loads the table with good things;
Another on the table sets on bread,
And then the Goddess Circe bids me eat;
But other dangers running in my head.
I had but little stomach to my meat:
Which she observing, said, Ulysses, why
Do you thus sullenly your meat refuse,
And like a dumb man sit ? D'ye think that I
Intend against you some new art to use ?
Have I not sworn ? To which I answered :
O Circe, how can I be pleas'd d'ye think
(When you my fellows keep disfigured
And pounded up in hog-sties) t' eat and drink ;
If you mean well, set them at liberty,
And in the shape of men before my eyes,
That I may look on them, and they on me.
With switch in hand then out of doors she hies,
And opens all their prisons; out they come,
And were, to look to, pigs of nine years old.
She drives them with her wand into the room,
And makes them stand there while I them behold.
Then Circe went amongst them, and each one
Smear'd with an unguent, which straightway did make
Their hair fall off, and undid all was done;
And presently a human shape they take,
Greater and fairer than they had before.
They knew me alL my band with theirs they press'd;
So glad they were, their eyes for joy ran oler;
The whole house wept, and Circe with the rest.
This past, the Goddess said: Ulysses, go
And bring your ship a-land, and let her lie;
Your goods within the rocky caves bestow,
And make haste back with all your company.
Tins pleas'd me well. Down to the sea I hie,
Where my companions I weeping find;
But soon as I appeared, they presently
About me came, their care now out of mind.
As when from pastures fat a herd of cows
Well fed return at evening to their home,
Their calves will not be kept within the house,
But play, and skip, and round about them come;
So did my fellows, soon as they me saw,
Come skipping out o' th' ship, with no less joy
Than if they had been come to Ithaca,
Their native country, from the town of Troy.
Our joy, said they, Ulysses, cannot be
Greater when we at Ithaca arrive,
Which we so wish for, than 'tis now to see
That you from Circe are retum'd alive.
But tell us, pray, how died our fellows there ?
But first, said I, hale up your ship to land,
And in the rocks hide all that's loose in her,
And come with me to Circe out of hand.
There shall you see your fellows how they live,
In want of nothing that they can devise.
To these my words my fellows credit give;
Eurylochus alone thought otherwise.
Wretches, said he, what mean you ? Will you go ?
Have you a longing to be lions tame,
Or swine, or wolves, and being transformed so,
To live at Circe's house, and guard the same?
Remember Cyclops, and how all they sped
That dar'd to put themselves within his cave,
By too much valour of Ulysses led.
Bethink you well how you yourselves may save.
When I heard that, I drew my sword, and meant,
Although he were my kinsman very nigh,
T' have made his head fly. But of that intent
I was made frustrate by the company,
That interposing spoke me fair, and said,
Let him stay here, but we'll go every man,
While he looks to the ship, since he's afraid.
Thus having said, to march they straight began ;
Nor staid Eurylochus behind, for I
Had so affrighted him he went with th' rest.
Meanwhile at Circe's house my company
Were bath'd, and oil'd, and cloth'd with coat and vest.
Feasting we found them in a stately hall.
But when we saw them, and heard everything
That had befallen them, suddenly we all
Wept out so loud, as made the house to ring.
Then Circe said: Ulysses, why d'ye weep?
I know your sufferings both at land by men,
And what you have endured on the deep;
Drink wine, eat meat, and merry be again.
Recruit your hearts with courage, till they be
As strong as when from home you first set out;
Put all your danger out of memory.
Nor trouble more your wearied minds with doubt.
These words of Circe's did our spirits cheer,
And made us willingly fall to our meat;
Both then, and ev'ry day throughout the year,
In Circe's house we freely drink and eat.
But when the season was come round about,
And months and days of th' year had made an end,
Then my impatient fellows call'd me out,
And said, Strange man, do you no more intend
To see your country Ithaca ? Shall we
For ever stay with Circe here ? Have Fates
Decreed that you your house no more should see,
But perish here together with your mates ?
This my companions said, and said but right.
Then what remained of the day we spent
Eating and drinking merrily. At night
They to their own beds, I to Circe's went:
Where prostrate at her knees, I press her hard
To keep her word, and let me go my way;
My mind, said I, is going thitherward
Now, and my fellows ask me why I stay.
Renowned Ulysses, answered Circe, here
Against your will with me you shall not stay.
But ere you go unto your country dear,
You must a voyage make another way.
You must to the house of Hades first repair;
For with Tiresias the prophet blind,
You must consult concerning your affair.
He knows what course the Fates have you design'd,
Though blind his eye, yet is his judgment clear.
For why, to him Proserpina alone
Hath granted to peruse Fate's register,
And know the history of things not done.
The ghosts to him stand up when he goes by.
At this my heart was ready ev'n to break,
And in the bed long time I weeping lie,
And turn'd, and wish'd for death. At last I speak:
Circe, said I, who shall me thither guide?
Never man yet to Hell went in a ship.
Then to me Circe presently replied:
Ulysses, let not that thought break your sleep.
You need but set your mast up, hoist your sail,
And then sit still; you shall not want a wind;
For Boreas to waft you will not fail.
When you are come to th' Ocean's end, you'll find
The woody shore and grove of Proserpine;
There the tall poplar and soft willow grows,
And there it is your bark you must put in.
Then go along the shore to Pluto's house,
And you shall see where into Acheron
Cocytas falls, which is a branch of Styx,
And with it also Pyriphlegeton,
And a great rock where the two rivers mix.
Close by that place make with your sword a pit
A cubit wide, and round about it pour
Wine mix'd with honey, and pure wine after it;
Then water pure, and over all throw flour.
Such is the drink that's offer'd to the dead.
And further, to them you must make a vow,
That when you be at home, and out of dread,
You'll gratify them with a barren cow.
But to Tiresias you must alone
Promise at your return to kill a ewe
All over black. The ceremonies done
Which to the dead by common law are due,
Then of the ram and ewe let out the blood
Into the pit; their heads to hellward place,
And turn your back, and so go tow'rd the flood;
Then shall you see the ghosts come out apace.
Bid your companions meanwhile to flay
The slaughter'd sheep. To Pluto must you and
To his queen Proserpine your prayers say,
Then sit down at the pit with sword in hand.
Let none come near the blood until you see
Tiresias the Theban prophet come.
'Twill not be long before he with you be;
He'll tell you all the ways to bring you home.
This said, Aurora had the light display'd,
And Circe cloth'd me with a coat and vest,
And with a pure white robe herself array'd,
With a gold girdle girt beneath her breast,
And put upon her head her veil. Then I
Went through the house to make my fellows rise,
And gently said unto them severally,
Lees go, for Circe now doth so advise;
And well content they were. But safe away
I could not bring them all. For there was one,
Elpenor, neither forward in a fray,
Not yet of very much discretion;
Heated with wine o'er night, himself to cool,
Up to the house's top he went to sleep;
But, wak'd with noise the rest made, like a fool
Ne'er thought of coming down the stairs steep
Backward, and so to th' earth he headlong fell,
And broke his neck-bone, and lay dead o'th' ground,
And his soul leaving him, went down to Hell.
The rest came forth, and stood about me round.
To these I said: You think without delay
That we to Ithaca are going now;
But Circe bids us go another way,
Of old Tiresias the mind to know,
The Theban prophet, who is now in Hell.
This broke the very heart-strings of my mates;
They sob and tear their hair, but cannot tell
How to avoid what's once decreed by th' Fates.
Then to our ship we weeping went. Mean space
Circe a ram and black ewe there had tied,
Unseen to us; we found them on the place.
For Gods, but when they list, cannot be spied.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XI.
Ulysses' descent into Hell, and discourses with the ghosts of the deceased heros.
WHEN we were come unto the sea-side, where
Our ship lay, which we shov'd into the deep;
We rear our mast, pull up our sails, and bear
Aboard with us one male, one female sheep.
And so for Hell we stood, with fears in mind,
And tears in eye. But the fair Circe sent,
To bear us company, a good fore-wind,
That kept our sails full all the way we went.
To winds and steerage we our way commend,
And careless sit from morning till 'twas dark;
Then found ourselves at th' Ocean's farthest end,
Where up to land the wind had forc'd our bark.
Here dwell the Cimbers, hid in clouds and mist,
Whom thou, O Phœbus, with thy golden eye,
Nor coming from the sky to earth e'er seest,
Nor when from earth thou mountest to the sky;
But live, poor men, under a horrid night.
Here seek we for the place of which the wise
Circe had told us, and soon on it light,
And thither fetch'd the sheep for sacrifice..
Then with my sword i' th' ground I digg'd a pit,
And round about it wine with honey pour;
And round again pure wine pour after it,
Then water pure. O'er all I sprinkle flour;
And vowed, to those feeble folk, to kill,
As soon as I to Ithaca should come,
A barren heifer, and the altar fill
With many more good things I had at home.
And promised to Tiresias alone
A fat black ewe, the best in all my cotes.
When I my vows and prayers had rightly done,
Of both the victims straight I cut the throats.
Their reeking blood streamed down into the pit;
Out come the ghosts; maids, youths, decrepid age,
And tender virgins, they all scented it;
And warriors clad in gory arms, all rage,
And rushing out of Hell, with hideous cry,
About the blood bustling they go and turn,
Which not a little frighted me. Then I
Bade flay the victims, and their bodies burn,
And say their prayers to Pluto and his queen.
With sword in hand I sat on the pit's brink,
Resolv'd till I Tiresias had seen,
That not, a ghost a drop of blood should drink.
First came my soldier Elpenor's spirit,
Which left the body just when we set sail,
So that we had no leisure to inter it;
His heavy fate I did with tears bewail.
How now, quoth I, Elpenor? art thou here
Already? Couldst thou me so much outstrip?
I first came forth, and left thee in the rear,
Hast thou on foot outgone my good black ship?
Then said Elpenor: Issue of Jove, divine
Ulysses, I had come along with th' bark,
But that the Devil and excess of wine
Made me to fall, and break my neck i' th' dark.
I went to bed late by a ladder steep,
At top o' th' house the room was where I lay;
Wak'd at the noise of parting, half asleep,
Headlong I hither came, the nearest way.
Now I adjure you by your father, and
Your wife, and son, and all his seed to come,
(For I assured am that you will land
Where Circe dwells before your going home),
To see I have the rites due to the dead.
Fear th' anger of the Gods above, and burn
My body with my arms, from foot to head,
And cast on earth to cover o'er my urn.
This done, for men hereafter sailing by,
Raise me a little tomb of earth by th' shore,
That they may eas'ly see where 'tis I lie.
Lastly, upon it upright plant my oar.
All this, quoth I, I'll do upon my word.
Thus we discours'd amongst the shades. lie stood
While I continued with my naked sword
To keep the sprites from tasting of the blood.
Then came Anticlia my mother's ghost.
Alive I left her, when to Troy I sail'd,
To fight against it in the Argive host.
Now seeing her, exceedingly I wail'd;
And though I grieved were to keep away
My mother from the loved blood, yet still
In the same posture patiently I stay,
Till I might know Tiresias his will.
Then came the soul of old Tiresias,
And of the gilded staff he had in's hand.
Poor man, quoth he, perceiving what I was,
What brought thee hither to this ugly land ?
Stand back awhile, and take your sword away,
That I may drink, and the unerring word
Of Fate deliver to you.
I obey,
Retire, and up I put my trusty sword.
Then said the good old prophet: You are come,
Honour'd Ulysses, to enquire of me,
What the Gods say about your going home.
I tell you true, 'twill not be easily.
I think you'll not escape at sea unseen
Of angry Neptune, who I do not doubt
Will do his worst, and make you feel his spleen,
For Polyphemus' eye which you put out.
Yet for all that, you may to Ithaca
Safely return, if you can but command
Your passion when in th' isle Thrinacia,
An island lying in your way you land;
There feed the kine of the all-seeing Sun,
And flocks of goodly sheep. Hurt none of these.
Then shall your ship her course with safety run
At length to Ithaca, though not with ease.
But if you touch them, I denounce a wreck
To your good ship, and death to all your crew.
And though yourself may happen to come back
At last, and this unhappy fate eschew,
'Twill be alone, and in a ship not yours;
Besides that, when you are returned home
You'll fall into the danger of the wooers,
Who for your wife's and meat's sake thither come.
But you will be reveng'd of these; and when
You shall have made away these wooers, go
With oar on shoulder, to a land where men
Inhabit that the briny sea not know,
Nor ever mingle salt with what they eat,
Nor ever saw the ship with crimson face,
Nor yet those wings which do the water beat,
Call'd oars, to make your good ship go apace.
Now mark me well, when thou shalt meet a man
Just at the end of Neptune's utmost bound,
Bearing upon his shoulder a corn-fan,
Stick down thy lusty oar upon the ground;
There sacrifice to the world's admiral,
For new admittance, a ram, boar, and bull;
Then home again, and offer unto all
The Gods by name an hundred oxen full.
Your death will not ungentle be, for which
Age shall prepare you, and your soul unglue
Insensibly. Your people shall be rich
Which round about you dwell. All this is true.
Tiresias, quoth I, when he had done,
'Tis well. My mother yonder I espy
Amongst the shades; she knoweth not her son;
What shall I do to make her know 'tis I ?
That, quoth he, I can tell you easily.
What soul soever you admit to drink,
To what you ask will make a true reply;
Those you put back, back into Hell will slink.
The prophet having thus my fate foretold,
Into the house of Pluto back retir'd.
I o'er the blood my former posture hold,
But let my mother drink as she desir'd.
She knew me then, and wept. My son, said she,
How came you to this place of ours so dark ?
Th' ocean and so many gulphs there be
'Twixt you and us, that but with a good bark
No living man can pass. Come you but now
From Troy, and all this while have wand'ring been,
You and your company? You have, I trow,
Your wife Penelope by this time seen.
Mother, said I, the cause I came this way
Was to ask counsel of Tiresias.
Since I with Agamemnon went to Troy,
In Ithaca or Greece I never was.
But, mother, tell me, pray you, how came you
Unto this place? Was it by sickness long?
Or did Diana with a death undue
Send you down hither to this feeble throng?
And tell me if my father and my son
Remain as formerly in their estate;
Or that some prince of Greece my wife have won,
Supposing me now cast away by fate?
Tell me besides, whether Penelope
Remain at home together with my son,
Assisting him to rule my family;
Or whether she be married, and gone?
Your wife, said she, does still continue there;
For your long absence weepeth days and nights.
Your son still holds his own, and makes good cheer;
Oft he invited is, and oft invites.
Your father from his vineyard never budges;
Rich coverlets and bedding he refuses;
Ne'er comes to the town; in winter with his drudges
To lay him down, sleep by th' fire he uses.
In vile array in summer-time he creeps,
Till vintage pass, about his fruit-trees round,
And visits them each one; at night he sleeps
On bed of heaped leaves upon the ground.
Thus lies he griev'd and pining with the thought
Of your sad fate; afflicted too with age.
The like sad thoughts me also hither brought:
I neither died by Diana's rage,
Nor any long-consuming malady;
But very woe, thinking that you were dead,
My noble, dear Ulysses, made me die ;
My soul thus hither from my body fled.
When she had spoken, I would very fain
Have ta'en her in my arms; three times I grasp'd
At the beloved shadow, but in vain.
Mine arms I closed, but did nothing clasp.
Sore griev'd hereat, I said unto my mother,
I am your son, why do you fly me so?
Why may we not, embracing one another,
Although in Hell, give ease unto our woe?
Hath Proserpine, my sorrows to augment,
Sent me a phantom in my mother's stead?
Oh no, quoth she, my son, she'd no intent
T' abuse you. 'Tis the nature of the dead.
We are no longer sinews, flesh, and bones,
We are substances incorporeal,
All that's consumed i' th' fun'ral fire; when once
That's done, it in itself stands several;
Flies like a dream. No, go your ways to th' light,
And tell all I have told you to your wife,
That she may know in this perpetual night
The dead enjoy an everlasting life.
When we had thus discours'd, the ladies came,
Sent out by Proserpine to taste the blood;
Daughters and wives to princes of great fame,
And round about me at the pit they stood.
But I to know each one that came to drink,
Studied awhile; then thought this counsel best,
With sword in hand t' abide upon the brink,
Whilst one was drinking to keep off the rest.
There was not one but I enquired her name
And pedigree. All told me who they were.
And first of all the well-born Tyro came,
Who said Salmoneus was her ancestor,
And that of Cretheus she bad been the wife,
And on Enipeus had enamour'd been
Once on a time whilst she remained in life;
On Enipeus, fair'st stream that e'er was seen,
Upon whose bank, Neptune, that chanc'd to spy her,
On Enipeus' sweet stream drew her aside,
And at the river's mouth laid him down by her,
Between two waves rais'd high, their deed to hide.
When he love's work had done, Thou shalt, said he,
Ere th' year be ended, bring forth children twain,
Who princes both of great renown shall be.
I Neptune am ; the Gods ne'er work in vain.
See you that they be educated well,
Till they shall be at man's estate arriv'd.
go you home: my name you must not tell.
This said, into the rolling sea he div'd.
Her time being come, she was delivered
Of two great boys, Neleus and Pelias,
Who for the service of high Jove were bred.
One king of Pyle, th' other of Ideas was.
The noble lady Tyro, besides these,
Did many other goodly children bear:
Amatheon, and Æson, and Pheres,
But these her husband Cretheus' children were.
Next came the daughter of AEsopus (who
Through Theban fertile plains and meadows runs)
Antiope. Of Jove she boasteth too,
That by him she conceived had two sons;
Their names were Zethus and Amphion. They
The founders were of Thebes; with walls and towers,
And sev'n strong gates they fenc'd it ev'ry way
Against invasion from all neighb'ring powers.
Amphitrion's wife Alcmena there I saw,
That lov'd by Jove brought Hercules to life.
And the king Cretheus' daughter Megara,
That was the mighty Hercules his wife.
I saw there also the unfortunate
Mother of Œdipus, Jocasta bright,
That blindly did a horrid act, by fate,
Which the Gods' pleasure was should come to light.
Not knowing him, she married her own son;
Not knowing him, he his own father slew:
When they perceived both what they had done,
Site hang'd herself; her Furies him pursue.
Chloris I saw, whom Neleus did wed
For beauty, got by the son of Joseus,
And with great dower he gain d her to his bed;
Her father Amphion rul'd Orchomenus.
She queen of Pyle, by Neleus had three boys;
Nestor, Chronius, Periclumenus;
And one fair daughter to make full their joys,
Pero by name, for beauty wondrous.
The princes round about were suitors to her;
But Iphiclus had Neleus' cattle ta'en,
And Neleus was resolved to bestow her
On him that could his herds fetch back again.
There was a prophet undertook the task;
But ta'en by clowns, and into prison pent,
For answering Iphyclus t' all he could ask
Was freed, and did the thing he underwent.
I saw the wife too of Tyndareus there,
Fair Leda; she two twins unto him bare,
Pollux, good cuffer; Castor, cavalier:
Twins, and alive, though under ground they arc,
And have obtained of their father Jove
Both to be canonized Gods; but so,
As he that is to-day in heaven above,
Shall be to-morrow amongst men below.
Iphimedea, Alciaeus' wife,
I saw, that did two sons to Neptune bear,
Otus and Ephialtes; of short life;
The greatest and the fairest that ever were
Except Orion; each at nine years old
Between the shoulders was nine cubits wide,
And was in length nine cubits four times told,
And all the Gods in heaven terrified;
And threat'ned them with war, and heav'n to storm
They Ossa set upon Olympus high,
And Pelius on Ossa, and so form
Against the sky a mighty battery;
And surely they had storm'd it had they been
At man's estate; their beards were not yet grown;
Apollo kill'd them with his arrows keen,
Ere on their cheeks appeared any down.
Phaedra and Procris there I also saw,
And Minos' daughter Ariadne, whom
Theseus was bringing towards Attica
From Creta, but he could not bring her home;
Diana killed her in Dia isle
On Bacchus' quarrel. There I did behold
l\laera and Clymene, and th' woman vile
Eryphile, that her own husband sold.
To name the ladies all I saw, would make
My tale to last all night. 'Tis bed-time now,
Here or aboard, though not till you think fit;
Till you think fit, and give command to row.
This said, the company deep silence seiz'd,
Delighted with the things they heard him speak.
The queen herself, Arete, no less pleas'd,
At last resolv'd the silence thus to break.
Princes, what think you of this man so rare,
His look, his stature, and his noble heart?
My guest he is, but you have all a share
In th' honour of this visit. Ere he part
Make him a present to relieve his need.
Be liberal, have no respect to thrift;
For you the Gods from fear of want have freed
With wealth abundant. Do not pinch your gift.
Old Echinous said : The queen says right;
We shall do well her counsel to obey.
But since in king Alcinous lies the might,
'Tis better first to hear what he will say.
Then said Alcinous, It shall be so,
Unless I bear the name of king in vain;
Let not the stranger till to-morrow
Till we prepare our gift he must remain.
As for his passage we will all provide,
And chiefly I that do the sceptre bear.
To whom the wise Ulysses thus replied:
Renown'd Alcinous, that reignest here,
Though a whole year you should command my stay.
It will not trouble me. Nay, that I'd chuse,
Since you intend to send me rich away:
For I am sure I shall no honour lose
By coming richly home. Kings that have store
Of wealth, are better commonly obey'd,
And by their subjects are respected more,
Than those whose treasuries and chests are void.
There be, the king said, many that can lie;
But there is form and sense in all you say;
Both your own fate you tell with harmony,
And of the Greeks with whom you went to Troy.
I should be well content to sit up here
All the night long, so you would undertake
To tell me ev'ry thing that you saw there.
To him Ulysses then did answer make:
Renowned king Alcinous, you know
There is a time for talk, a time for rest;
But since you long to hear, I'll tell you now
Whom else I saw, and what fate them oppress'd-
And first the saddest end of those that had
Escaped the fury of the enemy,
And in their countries landed were and glad,
Were murder'd by a woman's treachery.
The female ghosts scattered by Proserpine,
Some one way, some another; thither came
Atrides' soul, first of the masculine,
And others with him, whose fates were the same.
No sooner he the blood had tasted, but
He knew me, sorely wept, and would have cast
His arms about my waist, but could not do't,
For now, alas, his strength was gone and past.
I griev'd to see him, and thus to him said:
King Agamemnon, what fate brought you hither?
Were you by Neptune on the sett betray'd,
And hither sent by fury of the weather?
Or landing to find booty, met with death?
Or else besieging of some town were slain?
Or for fair women were bereav'd of breath?
Then Agamemnon answer'd me again:
Noble Ulysses, I lost not my life
By Neptune's fury, nor in fight at land
For booty or for women; but my wife
Did basely kill me by Ægistus' hand.
At my first landing he invited me,
And slew me then when I at supper sate.
Just as a man would kill a cow, so he
Kill'd me. There's no such woful death as that.
My friends were butchered like so many swine,
Which when within a mighty rich man's hall
Numbers of men invited are to dine
At wedding, or at feast, are made to fall.
You very many men have seen to die
In ranged battle, and in single fight,
But never felt such pity certainly
As you had felt, had you but seen this sight,
How we 'mongst tables on the ground did lie,
That ran with blood. But my heart most did rue
To hear Cassandra, Priam's daughter, cry,
Whom close beside me Clytemnestra slew.
Then, though I were at the last gasp, I tried
If groping I might find my fallen sword;
But the curs'd woman push'd it from my side.
I died; to close mine eyes she'd not afford.
Nothing so cruel as a woman yet
Did nature e'er produce; a thought so ill
In any other breast did never sit,
As her own loving husband's blood to spill.
Yet this my wife, to the eternal shame
Of all the sex, (not only of the bad,
But ev'n of those that have no evil fame),
Betray'd my life, and of my death was glad.
Jove meant to Atreus' seed, said I, great spite
By womankind. By Helen first. At Troy,
For her sake, many lost their lives in fight,
And Clytemnestra now did you betray.
Therefore, said Agamemnon, never trust
A woman more, although she be your own.
Tell her not all you think : somewhat you must;
And somewhat keep t' yourself to her unknown.
But you, Ulysses, need not fear your wife,
Icareus' daughter, fair Penelope;
She loves you better than to take your life:
A wife so wise will scorn disloyalty.
When we for Troy set forth together, then
She gave suck to your son; but he is grown
A man by this time, and takes place with men;
Is rich, and one day shall his father own,
And he and you at home embrace each other.
But I was not allow'd my son to see,
But was first murder'd by his wicked mother.
Now hear ye; if you will be rul'd by me,
Let no man know beforehand, when and where
You mean to land in Ithaca. Beware
Of suffering your bark in sight t' appear.
Remember still, women unfaithful are.
But tell me, have you nothing all this while
Heard of my son Orestes? Whether he
At Sparta with his uncle be, or Pyle?
For dead he is not, I know certainly.
Alas, said I, Atrides, how should I,
That wand'ring was at sea, hear any news
Whether alive or dead he be? Or why
Should I with tales uncertain you abuse?
Discoursing thus, and weeping there we stood,
When great Achilles' soul appear'd to us;
And with him also the two spirits good
Of stout Patroclus and Antilochus.
The soul of Ajax, son of Telamon,
Was also there, who 'mongst those warriors tall
The goodliest person was, except the son
Of Peleus, who did much excel them all.
Achilles drank, and presently me knew,
And said, Ulysses, what brought you to Hell?
What plot upon the dead you hither drew,
Where none but shades of wretched mortals dwell?
Achilles, said I, I was forc'd to come
T' inquire of th' wizard, old Tiresias,
What the Fates say about my going home,
Whether or no, and how 'twill come to pass.
For since I came from Troy I have not seen
Nor Ithaca, nor any Grecian shore;
For toss'd and cross'd at sea I still have been;
But you are now as well as heretofore.
Like any God we honoured you at Troy,
And here among the ghosts you are obeyed.
Death hath not chang d your state; you still enjoy
A regal power. To this Achilles said :
Talk not to me of honour here in Hell;
I'd rather serve a clown on earth for bread,
Than be, of all things incorporeal,
That are, or ever shall be, supreme head.
But tell me of my son, Neoptolemus ;
Whether he came to Troy, and how he fought;
And of my aged father, Peleus,
Whether he keep his place, or be put out.
For since much time his vigour hath decay'd,
Some foe, it may be, bath usurp'd his place
In Pthia, and in Ilellas where he sway'd,
And put him, with his people, in disgrace.
But were I now above, and strong as then,
When for the Greeks I fought at Ilium,
And slew so many of their bravest men,
And to my aged father's house should come ;
If there I were, 'twould not be very long
Before I made some of their hearts to ache,
That go about to do my father wrong,
And would by force his honour from him take.
When he had done, I made him answer thus :
Concerning Peleus I can nothing say;
But of your son, stout Neoptolemus,
I know enough : 'twas I brought him to Troy
From Scyros' isle. In council, always he
First spake his mind, and never spake but well.
Nestor and I, sometimes, and only we,
Th' advice he gave were able to refel.
In fight, he sought no shelter in the throng,
But ever out he ran before the rest,
To show his courage and his strength among
Those foes that were in Troy esteem'd the best.
The names of all he slew I cannot tell;
They are too many. But 'twas by his sword
That great Eurypylus in battle fell,
Of all the Trojan aids the goodli'st lord,
Excepting Memnon. After, when we were
Within the wooden horse concealed, and I
The power had of ordering all things there,
I never saw your son to wipe his eye,
Or to wax pale, as many of us did.
He never longed to be set on land
From out the hole in which we all lay hid;
And to his hilt he often put his hand,
And often to his spear. And when at last
We won, and rifled had the town of Troy,
He home into his country safely passed,
His ship well-laden with his part o' th' prey.
And which is more, he came off safe and sound;
Though Mars each way threw deaths and wounds about
Amongst the crowd, he ne'er received wound,
Neither from them that shot, nor them that fought.
This said, the swift Achilles' soul retir'd,
Strutting into the mead of Asphodel,
Proud of his son, to hear what he desir'd.
Then other grieved souls their stories tell.
Only the soul of Ajax stood off mute
And sullen, because I did from him bear
Achilles' armour in that sad dispute,
Where Pallas and the Trojans judges were.
I would I had not had that victory,
Which cost the life of him that was the most
Admir'd by all, for form and chivalry,
Except Achilles, in the Argive host.
I gently to him spake Ajax, said I,
Forget that cursed armour now at last;
And since you dead are, let your anger die :
For why, the Gods determin'd had to cast
Those arms amongst us for a punishment,
Offended with us, what e'er was the matter,
And us'd them as an engine, with intent
Our greatest tower, which was yourself, to batter.
For whom the Argives did lament no less
Than for Achilles, Thetis' son. Come nigh,
And hear what I can answer, and suppress
Your mighty heart awhile. So ended I.
To this just nothing he replied, but went
Int' Erebus 'mongst other shadows dim;
Yet there, I think, he would have been content
To speak to me, if I to speak to him.
But I desired others' souls to see.
Then Minos there, the son of Jove, I saw,
With golden sceptre, dealing equity
To souls that stood and sat to hear the law.
Next after him, I saw the great Orion ;
A mighty club he carried in his hand;
And hunted the wild boar, and bear, and lion,
Which when he lived he had kill'd on land.
There also saw I Titius. He lay
Upon his back, stretch'd out full acres nine.
He the fair Leto had, upon the way
To Pytho, injur'd ; Leto, Jove's concubine.
Two vultures on his breast, on each side one,
Sate dipping of their beaks into his liver.
He stirreth not, but lets them still alone ;
And thus devouring it, they stay for ever.
And Tantalus I saw up to the chin
In water clear, and longing sore to drink ;
But as he bow d himself to take it in,
Some devil always made the water sink.
Close o'er his head hung pleasant fruit, and ripe
Pears and pomegranates, olives, apples, figs,
Which ever when he ready was to gripe,
A sudden wind still whisk'd away the twigs.
And Sisyphus I saw, who 'gainst the hill,
With hands and feet, a heavy stone doth roll;
But when unto the top he brings it, still
The naughty stone falls back into the hole.
Then to't he goes afresh, with no less pain
He heaves and sweats, and dusty is all o'er;
And when 'tis up, he labour'd has in vain,
For still it serves him as it did before.
Then Hercules I saw,—I mean his sprite,
For he is with th' immortal Gods above,
And taken has to wife Hebe the bright,
Daughter of Juno, and of mighty Jove.
The dead about him made a fearful cry,
Like frighted fowl. A golden belt he wore,
With wild beasts wrought, and slaughters cunningly,
The like shall never be, nor was before.
He saw, and knew me presently, and spake:
Renown'd Ulysses, why left you the light ?
Alas, were you constrain'd to undertake
This task as I was, by a meaner wight ?
Who, though Jove's son I was, did me constrain
Full many other labours t'undergo.
But he thought this would put me to most pain,
Th' infernal dog upon the earth to show.
I did it though, and dragg'd him up to th' light,
By Mercury's and by Athena's aid.
Having thus said, he vanish'd out of sight
'Mongst other phantoms. But I still there stay'd,
Hoping more heroes of th' old time to see ;
And more had surely seen of heavenly race,
Theseus, Pirythous, whom t' had pleased me,
If longer I had dar'd to keep my place.
For then, from out of Hell, with hideous cry,
Thousands of souls about me gathered,
And frighted me; but most afraid was I,
Lest Proserpine should send out Gorgon's head.
Then went I to my ship and company,
And for a while our oars at sea we plied:
But after we were on the main, then we
A fair gale had, and pass'd the ocean wide.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XII.
His passage by the Syrens, and by Scylla and Charybdis. The sacrilege committed by his men in the isle Thrinacia. The destruction of his ship and men. How he swam on a plank nine days together, and came to Ogygia, where he stayed seven years.
THENCE over th' ocean back we come away,
And at the isle Æaea we arrive.
There are the bowers of Aurora gay ;
There 'tis that Phœbus doth the day revive:
And there we disembark upon the sand,
And having slept awhile, attend the day.
When day was come, my fellows I command
To fetch Elpenor's body dead away.
With wood from off a promontory near,
Weeping, his body we to ashes burn,
Together with his arms, and th' earth we rear,
To be a monument upon his urn ;
And on the same we fix his oar upright.
These ceremonies done, came the divine
Circe, that knew we landed were that night.
Her maids brought to us bread, and meat, and wine;
And standing in the midst, Poor men, said she,
That come from Hell, and thither must again ;
Twice-mortals, take your food, and merry be
With flesh and lusty wine, forget your pain.
To-morrow you shall sail again, and I
Will to you all your dangers open lay,
Lest you, by some malicious subtilty,
By land or sea, should perish by the way.
This pleas'd us well, and all day long we sate
Eating and drinking wine, until 'twas dark.
And somewhat e'er we saw it evening late,
My mates lay down to sleep beside the bark.
Then Circe led me by the hand aside,
And ask'd me all that I had seen in Hell;
Nor anything at all from her I hide.
'Tis well, said she. Now hear what I you tell:
First, you must pass the Sirens, who invite
All passengers that sail before the place
To land. But whosoever lands, that wight
Of's wife and children ne'er more sees the face.
These Sirens in a meadow sit and sing,
Where dead men's bones in heaps about them lie
Rotting, and rivel'd skins lie scattering.
Pass on, and their enchanting music fly.
Command your mates to tie you to the mast;
And that, if you make signs to be set free,
They heed you not, but bind you still more fast.
That you alone may hear their melody,
Dam up your fellows' ears with chafed wax.
When you are gotten out of hearing quite,
And have the Sirens far off at your backs,
Another danger soon will come in sight.
Two ways there are ; but which of them to take
111 not advise you, both of them are naught.
Yourself upon the place your judgment make,
Of which I'll give you only a short draught.
Two rocks there be, that, with inclining brow,
Hang o'er the sea, which roaring runs between;
By th' name of Wanderers the Gods them know,
Because in changed posture they are seen.
Whereof the one does to such height ascend,
That never any birds that way take wing,
Nor fearful doves when they to Heaven tend,
Ambrosia to th' immortal Gods to bring.
One of these rocks doth vanish now and then,
But Jove still sets another in its stead.
This way, ne'er ship did safely carry men,
But dash'd was 'gainst the rocks, and perished.
The good ship Argo only passed that way
To and from Colchos safely; yet that, too,
Had perish'd, but that Juno did convey
The same, for love she bare to Jason, through.
The other rock unmov'd, with pointed head,
Pierceth the clouds, and reaches to the sky
In winter, and in summer's covered
And wrapped up in mists perpetually.
Nor could a mortal man climb up unto't,
Although he were indued with twenty hands,
And with as many nimble feet to boot,
So smooth it is, and so upright it stands.
I' th' midst o' th' rock you '11 see a cavern dark
That looketh westward. That way you must row.
The mouth o' th' cave is more above your bark
Than th' youngest man can shoot to with a bow.
There 'tis that Scylla dwells and barks : her voice
Like to a lion's whelp's voice is ; but she
A mighty monster is ; 'twould not rejoice
A God, much less a man, her shape to see.
Twelve feet she has in all, and ugly ones.
Six huge long necks; and to each neck a head;
And in each head for teeth sh' has rows of bones,
And every row of them envenomed.
Half of her body in the cave she hides ;
But all her heads she putteth out, and watches
For dog-fish, dolphins, and what fish besides
The sea affords, and whales she sometimes catches.
Ne'er did bold sailor boast, that pass'd that way,
That he had 'scaped safely by her den;
Or that a mouth of her's did want its prey,
But from him snatch'd away some of his men.
The rock that's opposite is not so high,
But there the passage is exceeding narrow.
For you, Ulysses, if you please to try,
From side to side can easly shoot an arrow.
Out of this rock grows a great sycamore,
Under the which Charybdis hidden lies,
And suddenly the water does devour,
And suddenly again she makes it rise.
Thrice in a day the water rises high,
And thrice a day again the same doth fall.
But when it falls, take heed you be not nigh ;
Keep Scylla side ; better lose six than all.
When she had made an end, Goddess, said I,
Tell me, I pray you, when I have got free
From th'evil which Charybdis means me, why
On Scylla I may not avenged be?
Fie, fie, quoth she, are you at fighting still ?
Dare you against the Gods oppose your might?
For Scylla is an everlasting ill.
Row on apace, and save yourselves by flight
'Gainst such a monster, remedy there's none,
But row as fast as e'er you can away.
For if you stay to put your armour on,
She'll stoop again, and take another prey.
Row swiftly on, and to Cratais cry,
That in her belly the foul monster bore,
And she will keep her in as you go by,
That she shall not assault you any more.
Next at Thrinacia isle you shall arrive,
Where feed the Sun's broad-homed kine and sheep,
Sev'n herds there be, in each one ten times five,
As many flocks, which Sol's two daughters keep,
Phaetusa and Lampetio divine ;
Their mother was Neaera, that did bear
And bring them up, and to them did assign
The keeping of their father's cattle there.
These if you suffer quietly to feed,
You shall get home again, though with some pain;
But if you hurt them, know it is decreed
Your ship and men shall perish in the main;
And though yourself you save, your ship you'll lose,
And mates, and in your passage find delay.
This said, the rosy-finger'd Morning rose,
And Circe up the island went her way.
But I went to my ship, and call'd my crew
To come aboard. Aboard they quickly come,
And sitting each man in his order due,
With stroke of oars they make the grey sea foam.
The Goddess Circe also was so kind,
As when we were gone off, and sails had spread,
To fill them with a favourable wind.
So sate we while the steersman governed.
Then to my mates with heavy heart I spake :
Not one or two of you alone must hear
What Circe said, but all, that you may take
Your own advice, since 'tis a common fear.
You must not hear the Sirens' melody,
But row with all your might till we be pass'd.
To me alone, she gives that liberty,
But so as first you bind me to the mast.
Bind me you must upright both hand and foot,
And so as I may not the knot unknit:
And if I wink upon you to undo't,
Then take more cord and bind me faster yet.
Whilst I my fellows thus informing stood,
The island of the Sirens came in sight:
For nimble was our ship, and the wind good.
But suddenly we were becalmed quite;
Some demon sure had laid the waves asleep.
Then took we in our sails, and laid them by,
And with our oars in hand provok'd the deep,
And in a milky path we forward ply.
Then from a ball of wax I pinch a bit,
Chafe it, and into th' ears of one it put;
And so to all in order as they sit.
Which soon was done, the weather being hot.
Then straight they rise and bind me to the mast
At th' arms and feet: the knot behind they tie;
And then upon their seats themselves they plac'd,
And row'd till to the island we were nigh.
When to the island we were come so nigh,
As that a man that holloes may be heard,
The Sirens, knowing when we should come by,
Had tun'd themselves, and had their song prepar'd.
Come, come, much prais'd Ulysses, come away;
The brightest glory of the Greeks, come near:
No mortal man did ever come this way,
That did not to our music lend an ear;
Delight they found, and wisdom carried hence.
Stay, stay your good black ship, forbear awhile
To beat the sea ; please and inform your sense.
Come disembark yourselves upon our isle.
We know what feats of arms were done at Troy
Between the Greeks and Trojans all along:
We know what's done on th' whole earth everyday.
Come, come a'land, and listen to our song.
And this they sung with so much harmony
And sweetness in their voices, that I fain
Would have recovered my liberty,
And to them wink'd, to be set loose again.
But 'twould not be. My mates regard my words,
And not my winks, and sit still at the oar.
Eurylochus and Perimede bring cords,
And bind me harder than they did before.
When we had left the Sirens at our backs,
So far as not to hear them any more,
My fellows from their ears pull out the wax,
And me unto my liberty restore.
We had not sailed far, when there appeared
An angry sea before us all in smoke ;
And thumping of the mighty waves we heard
Upon the stubborn rocks at every stroke.
Besides, the sea so mighty loud did roar,
As with one dismal hum it fill'd the ear,
And made my mates each one let fall his oar,
So much their senses were benumb'd with fear.
Still stood the bark. Then I among them go
With gentle words, new courage to convey
Into their failing hearts, to make them row;
And passing by, to every one I say :
My friends, we all have many dangers passed,
And greater much than what we now do fear.
Remember how from Polyphemus vast,
By my good conduct, we deliver'd were.
I do not doubt but you remember it:
My counsel, therefore, also now obey.
Row close along the shore, the Gods may yet
Deliver us, but by no other way.
But you that have the guiding of the ship,
Steersman, to you I speak, mark what I say;
Steer her without the smoke ; for if she slip
Aside, though little, we are cast away.
This said, my fellows speedily obey'd.
Of th' monster Scylla not a word I told ;
Lest they should throw away their oars, dismayed,
And for their shelter run into the hold.
But Circe's counsel I had quite forgot.
I arm'd myself, and took into my hand
Two spears, though she expressly had said not;
And looking upwards, at the head I stand.
But she appeared not. I look'd so high
And long upon the hideous rock, my sight
Began to fail, and now we were close by
That dismal straight, which doth us all affright.
Here Scylla stands, and there Charybdis dire
Lies vomiting the sea, which sings and dances
Like water in a kettle o'er the fire,
And vapours to the highest rocks advances.
But when the sea it sucketh in again,
It sounds like thunder in the hollow stone,
And we could see the bottom very plain;
Sandy it was, and black to look upon.
Whilst we our eyes upon Charybdis fix,
And stand amazed at the horrid sight,
Suddenly Scylla stoop'd, and snatch'd up six
Of the best men I had to row or fight.
I from the ship that never stirr'd my eye,
Soon saw their sprawling arms and legs i' th' air,
And heard them lamentably to me cry,
And name me in their uttermost despair.
As fishers in a horn mix fraud and food,
And from the bank at th' end of a long wand,
To catch the fry cast it into the flood,
Then pluck them up, and throw them on the land:
So lifted were my mates. Of my mishaps
This was the saddest I did ever see,
When she my men cham'd in her ugly chaps,
Roaring and holding out their hands to me.
From Scylla we unto the island row,
Where feeding were Sol's sacred sheep and kine.
Before we landed I could hear them low ;
Which brought into my mind the prophesy
Of old Tiresias the Theban bard,
That counsel'd me this island for to shun.
Of Circe also I like counsel heard,
And not to land i' th' Island of the Sun.
Then speaking to my fellows, Friends, said I,
This island sacred is to Sol; this place
Tiresias and Circe both bid fly,
And not to disembark in any case.
For if we do, for certain they declare
The greatest mischief that e'er men betel:
Therefore keep out to seaward, and beware
Of landing here, and then we shall be well.
But then Eurylochus to me began :
You have, Ulysses, a hard heart, quoth he ;
There is no labour but you bear it can ;
Your limbs of stubborn steel composed be.
But you consider not your mates are tir'd
With their continual tugging at the oar,
And that refreshment is and sleep requir'd,
Which is not to be had but on the shore.
But you would have us wander in the night,
When in the night the greatest winds arise,
The bane of ships ; and when deprived of light,
To save ourselves we can no way devise.
What if great winds should blow from south or west,
Which often happens, though their king not know,
Or not consent ? Therefore I think it best
To-night to sup ashore,-to-morrow row.
So said Eurylochus, and was commended
By all my mates : and presently I knew
One demon or another had intended
To ruin me, together with my crew.
Then said I to Eurylochus, 'Twere vain
To strive against so many men alone.
But you shall take an oath that you 'll abstain
From hurting of the cattle of the Sun.
Of Circe's meat there's left us yet good store.
This said, they took the oath ; which having done,
They put into the harbour, and ashore
They sup. And when their hunger now was gone,
Their mates remembering, that in th' hollow rock
By th' monster Scylla were devoured, they weep
And wail, and with their hands they knock
Their breasts, and in that posture fell asleep.
The stars had climb'd a third part of the sky,
When with a whirlwind Jove together fetched
The clouds from ev'ry part, and suddenly
On sea and land a dismal night was stretched.
And when the rosy-finger'd Morning came,
Our ship we to a hollow cave advance,
Wherein the sea-nymphs seats and couches have,
And where they are accustomed to dance.
Thither I call'd my mates, and said again:
Friends, we have meat and drink aboard, be wise,
And from the herds and flocks of Sol abstain,
Who heareth all we say, and all espies.
To this did my companions all assent.
But for a month there blew no other wind
Than south and east; so that we there were pent
I' th' island longer than we had designed.
My mates, whilst they had bread and meat aboard,
Forbore to meddle with the sacred kine,
And fetch'd in what the island did afford
Of fish and fowl, to have wherewith to dine.
Up I into the island went aside,
The conduct of th' immortal Gods t' implore,
That some of them t' would please to be my guide,
And me unto my country to restore.
And in a place defended from the wind
I wash'd my hands; and then with tears and sighs
Before the Gods I poured out my mind,
And they a sweet sleep poured on my eyes.
Meantime Eurylochus bad counsel gives
To his companions. All deaths, quoth he,
Are hateful to what thing soever lives;
But death by hunger is the worst can be.
Let's kill some of the fattest of these cows,
And sacrifice unto the Gods on high;
And to appease the Sun, let's all make vows
To build a temple to his Deity,
Enrich'd with gifts. If not content with this,
For a few cows displeas'd, he seek our death,
For once to gape and die, far better 'tis
Than strive with hunger till we lose our breath.
This said, my fellows all his counsel take,
And chase Sol's sacred herds, that graz'd hard by;
And then for recompense their vows they make
To build a temple to his Deity.
But when they made their vows, chaplets they wear
Of tender leaves pluck'd from the spreading oak.
White barley they had none, the which men bear,
When in their danger they the Gods invoke.
After the vow performed, the kine they flay,
And take their thighs and cover them with fat,
And one of them upon the other lay,
To burn upon the altar. After that,
Their offering of drink they pour'd upon
The altar, as the sacrifice they burn;
It ought t' have been of wine, but having none,
They pour'd on water fair, which serv'd the turn.
When th' entrails by my fellows eaten were,
And fire consumed had the sacrifice,
The rest they roast on spits and made good cheer.
Just then it was that sleep forsook my eyes,
And back again I walk'd down towards the shore;
But coming near, perceiv'd the vapour rise
Of roasted meat. Then to the Gods I roar:
You give me sleep, and take away my life;
So strange a thing my mates the while have done.
Swiftly Lampetio to heav'n flies,
And carries up the news unto the Sun.
The Sun in choler all the Gods defies,
Unless they right him of his injury.
Jove, father, and you other powers divine,
Revenge me of Ulysses' company,
That have so insolently slain my kine.
It was my joy to see them in the morn,
And in the evening e'er I went to bed.
Revenge me, oh ye Gods! of this their scorn,
Or I'll go down to Hell and light the dead.
No, Phœbus, answered Jove, hold up your light,
For Gods and mortal men to see their way.
As for the men that did you this despite,
Their ship at sea with lightning I'll destroy.
At this discourse in heaven was Hermes by,
And heard his father make this sad decree;
And he again told all this history
To the fair Calypso, and she told it me.
When to my fellows I was come, I rate
Them all full bitterly, and one by one;
But all in vain, for now it was too late:
The Gods by signs detested what was done.
The skins did creep, the flesh o' th' spits did low,
Both raw and roast.
Six days in th' isle we staid,
Feasting on Phœbus' kine, the seventh we row;
For then the fury of the wind was laid.
When we were out at sea we fix our mast,
And up into the wind our sails we draw,
And had the isle so far behind us cast,
That nothing else but sky and sea we saw.
Then Jove, when far from land he saw our ship,
Just over it a dismal black cloud hung,
Which made it dark as night upon the deep,
And then our good ship run not very long.
For presently from west a sudden blast
Came roaring in, and vehemently strains
And breaks the cordage that upheld the mast,
Which falling down, beats out the steerer's brains:
He drops into the sea. The mast hangs o'er
At stern. The yards lie cross the sink:
And all the while both heaven and sea did roar
With thunder loud, which made our hearts to shrink.
And by and by into the ship Jove threw
His thunder-bolt, which whirl'd it round about.
It smelt of sulphur rank; and all my crew
Into the sea it suddenly threw out.
They like to gulls from wave to wave were borne,
But I kept still aboard, till at the last
The rudder from astern the ship was torn,
And fell into the sea, and with't the mast.
The mast had hanging on it broken ropes,
Wherewith I bound them both together fast,
And sate upon them as my latest hopes,
Until the fury of the storm was past.
The storm now laid, th' wind came about to th* south,
And carried me before it, till the sun
Next morning rose; and then we were i'th'mouth
Of dire Charybdis, just when she begun
To swallow up the sea. Then up leap'd I,
And on a spreading sycamore laid hold,
But to't I could not climb; the boughs so high
I could not reach, and far off was the root.
There by the hands I hung, expecting when
Charybdis should cast up the sea, and bring
The rudder and the mast to th' top agen.
Meanwhile, in th' air I patiently swing.
What time the judge ariseth from his seat,
Ending the brabbles of contentious men,
And all come weary home to take their meat,
Then came my mast and rudder up agen;
And I into the sea close by them drop.
Then having soon recovered them, again
I place myself astride, once more, a-top,
And with my hands I rowed on the main.
If Scylla this had seen, undoubtedly
I had been lost. But 'twas the grace of Jove,
That all this while she did not me espy,
But kept herself retir'd i' th' rock above.
Thus wander'd I at sea nine days outright;
0' th' tenth at night the Gods brought me to land
In th' isle Ogygia, where Calypso bright
Receiv'd me with a charitable hand.
But how she treated me, I need not say;
You and the queen already know it well,
From the relation I made yesterday;
Nor do I love the same tale twice to tell.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XIII.
Ulysses sleeping is set ashore at Ithaca by the Phaeacians, and waking knows it not. Pallas in form of a shepherd helps to hide his treasure. The ship that conveyed him turned into a rock ; and Ulysses by Pallas is instructed what to do, and transformed into an
old beggar.
THIS said, all silent and delighted were.
Alcinous then said, Ulysses, since
You safely to me are arrived here,
You shall not lose your way in going hence.
But, princes, you that daily with me sit,
Drinking good wine and hearing music sweet,
And given to the stranger have what's fit,
I'll tell you what yet farther I think meet.
Garments he has a chest full, and good store
Of gold, plate, and of other gifts he has.
Take my advice. Let each man give him more,
A cauldron, or a three-foot pot of brass.
I know to each man 'twill be too great largess,
But by the people's contribution
We'll make amends; the town shall bear the charges.
The motion pleas'd, and 'twas agreed upon.
Then went they every man to his repose.
And soon as morning did again appear,
Aboard the ship the vessels they dispose,
Alcinous himself directed where.
And then into the palace they return,
And sacrifice to Jove a well-fed beast;
The thighs upon the altar there they burn,
And with the rest they make themselves a feast.
Demodocus before them sung and play'd,
Who for his art was famous in the town.
Ulysses to the sun look'd up, and stayed
Longing and wishing that it would go down ;
As one that hath at plough been all the day,
Hungry his belly, feeble is his knee,
Beholds the setting of the sun with joy;
So glad Ulysses was sunset to see.
Then to Alcinous and all the rest,
Offer, said he, unto the Gods their wine.
I have already all that I request,
And many gifts, which may the pow'rs divine
Make happy to me. Let me now depart,
That I may see my dear wife and my friends.
And blest may you stay here with joy at heart,
Comfort your wives, and obtain all your ends;
And strong and worthy children may you have,
Nor 'mongst the people trouble or disease-
This said, they prais'd him all, and counsel gave
The stranger to conduct safe o'er the seas.
Alcinous then call'd for wine, and bad
Pontonous present it to each one,
Until unto the Gods all offer'd had,
That so Ulysses the sooner might be gone.
Pontonous brought wine, and carried it
From man to man, and each man drank his cup,
Blessing the Gods in order as they sit.
When all had drunk, Ulysses standeth up,
And speaking to queen Arete, he said:
Happy for ever may you be, O queen.
I take my leave. Be you for ever joy'd
In king Alcinous as you have been,
And in your children and your people all.
And when he this had said, away he went.
Alcinous did then a squire call,
Whom with Ulysses to the ship he sent.
Arete to her women sent. One brought
Fine bread and store of black wine of the best;
Another brought with her a cloak and coat;
Another brought, to lay them in, a chest,
Which by the mariners were quickly stow'd
Aboard the good ship, with the wine and bread.
And for Ulysses many rugs they strew'd
0' th' deck, astern, with linen at his head.
And then aboard lie went. When he was lain,
Their seats they take, and parted from the strand,
Reclining dash d with oars the liquid plain,
While sleep Ulysses bound had foot and hand.
As when four horses gallop o'er a plain,
The way runs swiftly by the coach's side;
So did the good ship mount upon the main,
And to the stem the water swiftly glide,
A hawk could hardly with it have kept pace,
A hawk that of all fowl the swiftest flies;
So swiftly ran the ship on th' ocean's face,
And with her breast the rising water slice;
Bearing a man for wisdom like a God,
That pass'd had fearful billows on the deep,
And many bloody paths of war had trod,
The thought whereof was now removed by sleep.
Above the earth now risen was the star,
Day's messenger, and brightest of the sky.
The ship was then from Ithaca not far.
A port there is, which from a deity
Is called Phorcys, a sea-deity.
Two jetting rocks defend it from the wind;
When once within, a ship will safely lie,
. There needs no cord a floating ship to bind.
At the port's head grows a large olive-tree,
And near it an obscure and pleasant cave,
Where the Nereiades delight to be,
And there they bowls of stone and beakers have;
The bees make honey there. Besides, there be
Long beams of stone, whereon the nymphs do weave
Rich purple garments, wonderful to see,
And fountains which their running never leave.
Two doors there are, one north, men go that way;
The other to the south more sacred is,
Th' immortals here go in, and none but they;
The Gods have to themselves reserved this.
All this Ulysses' convoy knew before;
And here the ship arrived, safely lands,
And half her length lay dry upon the shore,
Such was the strength of those Phaeacian hands.
The lusty seamen, when they landed were,
First took Ulysses, sleeping as he lay,
Bedding and all, and to the land him bear,
And lay him from the sea a little way:
Then they unship his goods, gold, vestures, brass,
Gifts given him by the Phaeacians;
Which at the foot of the olive-tree they place,
Out of the way, lest passengers should chance
To steal them while Ulysses was asleep.
When this was done, the convoy stayed not,
But rowed out the ship into the deep.
Nor Neptune had Ulysses yet forgot,
But said to Jupiter, complaining then:
What honour from the Gods can I expect,
When the Phaeacians, that are but men,
(Although descended from me), me neglect ?
For though Ulysses I destroyed not,
Because his coming home you had decreed;
Yet that he should be brought home thus, ne'er thought,
Asleep, and painless, and with so much speed,
Enriched with gold, and brass, and vestures store,
As much as had come to his share at Troy.
This the Phaeacians have done, and more,
In this licentiousness they take a joy.
Then answered Jove: Neptune, what's this you say?
The Gods neglect you not. It cannot be,
That are the eldest and of greatest sway
Of any of them. If man injure thee,
To take revenge enough your own pow'r is.
I will not hinder you, do what you please.
To Jupiter then Neptune answer'd this;
I could, O Jove, have been reveng'd with ease,
But that I fear'd you would offended be.
And now 111 tell you what I mean to do.
As soon as I the ship returning see,
I'll fix it, that they may no more do so;
Besides, their city with a hill 111 hide.
O but, said Jupiter, were it my case,
When from the city people all espied
The ship hard by, I would a rock there place
In likeness of a ship not far from land,
To make men wonder, and then round about
The city make a mighty mountain stand.
This said by Jove, the God of Seas went out
To Scheria, where the Phaeacians
First planted were. The ship came swiftly on,
And on it Neptune laid his mighty hands.
And roots it in the sea, turn'd into stone.
The rowers t' one another say, What's this?
Who hath our good ship fixed in the water?
And yet above the water still it is.
Thus said they, but knew nothing of the matter.
Then spake Alcinous. Performed, said he,
Is what long since I heard my father say,
That Neptune angry was that strangers we,
Whoe'er they were, do to their homes convey,
And threatened had with a great hill to hide
The city, and destroy the passage-boat.
This by my father then was prophecied,
And now, you see, at last about 'tis brought.
Therefore be rul'd by me. Convoy no more;
But let us unto Neptune sacrifice
Twelve chosen bullocks, and his grace implore
To set no hill there.
So did he advise.
And then to Neptune they their prayers make
Standing at th' altar, king and princes all.
And now Ulysses lying was awake,
But to his mind the place could not recal;
For Pallas had about him cast a mist,
That at his coming he might not be known;
But she herself instruct him as she list,
Till he the suitors all had overthrown.
All things seem'd to him other than they were,
Paths, highways, creeks, havens, trees, and rocks;
And rising up he was he knew not where,
And with his open hand his thigh he knocks.
Ay me, said he, whither am I come now?
To civil, or to wild and lawless men?
Where shall I hide my treasure? Whither go?
Would I were at Phaeacia agen.
To other friends I might have gone from thence,
And t' Ithaca obtained a convoy,
Here for my treasure I see no defence.
Left here to others they will be a prey.
I see the princes of Phaeacia
Are not so just as I take them to be.
They promised to set me at Ithaca,
But have to some place else transported me.
Jove, that sees all, and punisheth the ill,
Will be revenged also of these men.
But come, my presents number now I will,
The seamen may have ta'en some back agen.
His garments and his plate then number'd he,
And nothing missing was of all his pelf.
Then walk'd he softly along by the sea,
Lamenting and bewailing of himself.
And then came Pallas to him. She had on
The body of a shepherd young and tender,
As if she had of some prince been the son;
Lin'd was his coat, the thread was fine and slender,
With dart in hand, and fine shoes on his feet.
Ulysses, who beheld her, was much joy'd,
And forth himself advanced, her to meet.
And first he to her spake, and thus he said:
Joy to you be, and good-will towards me ;
Save for me these my goods, and save me too.
You are the first I meet here ; at your knee
I bow myself, as men bow Gods unto.
Tell me, I pray you, true: What land is this ?
What town ? Th' inhabitants what men ?
An isle, or of the continent a piece ?
To this the Goddess answered agen.
Simple you are, or very far hence dwell,
To ask what country this is. For 'tis not
A place obscure; for known 'tis very well
Both east and west, though but a little spot,
And rugged ground, not fit for galloping ;
Yet corn it bears abundantly and wine ;
And is well watered both with dew and spring,
And nourisheth great herds of goats and kine.
Of wood of ev'ry sort there is good store.
Though from Achaea far men say is Troy,
Yet Ithaca is talk'd of on that shore.
These words unto Ulysses were great joy.
And to the Goddess then he answered:
(Falsely; on fables keeping still his hold,
As one that always plots hath in his head):
I have, said he, of Ithaca been told,
Far hence in Crete, and now am thither come
With these my goods; but leaving to my child
About as much as I brought out from home;
And here I am alone, a man exil'd.
For of Idomeneus I kill'd the son,
Orsilochus, for swiftness of his feet
So excellent, there was not any one
That could out-run him in the isle of Crete.
Because I had refused a command
Under his father at the siege of Troy,
And would command ray own, he took in hand
To have depriv'd me of my share o' th' prey,
Which to my dangers and my deeds was due.
For which, by night, with one companion,
Near the highway, I with my spear him slew,
And in the dark escaped when I had done.
And to Phœnicia by sea I went;
And hired with a good part of my prey
To Pylus or to Elis to be sent.
But adverse winds forc'd us another way.
And wandering, there arrived in the night.
And straight into this port we brought the bark,
Ne'er thought of food, though very well we might,
But went ashore, and lay down in the dark,
And there I slept. The mariners meanwhile
Take out my goods and lay them on the shore,
And back unto Sidonia they sail,
And after that I never saw them more.
At this the goddess smil'd, and strok'd his head,
And in a woman's shape before him stood,
Of stature tall and like to one well bred.
The craft that catches you had need be good.
You cannot, though at home, your wiles forego,
And your feign'd stories, though there be no need,
So close they stick to you from top to toe.
But now no more of that; for 'tis agreed,
'Mongst mortals you, amongst immortals I,
For counsel and invention excel.
Did you not know me, that perpetually
Have at your need assisted you so well ?
And now am come to help you to secure
The rich Phaeacian presents you have here,
And tell you what at home you must endure?
Affronts and scorns, you shall find many there.
Then said Ulysses, Difficult it is
For any mortal man, though very wise,
To know a God, that can their form dismiss,
And, when they will, put on a new disguise.
When th' Argive army was besieging Troy,
Goddess, I know how gracious you were then;
But after (the town sack'd) we came away,
And scatter'd had the Gods our ships and men,
And I was wand'ring on the ocean wide,
I never saw you, never had your aid,
Save at Phaeacia you were pleased to guide
Me to the town, and hasten me dismayed.
But I beseech you (for still do I doubt
This is not Ithaca that I am at,
But some place else, and that you go about
With comforts feign'd my sorrows to abate)
Tell me if this my country be indeed ?
Pallas said then, Suspicious still you are;
I cannot, therefore, leave you in your need,
Since wise you be, and willing to beware.
Another man that had been long away,
Had straight gone home to see his wife and son;
But that for you is not the safest way,
Nor had it yet been opportunely done.
Know how she'll take it first. She keeps within,
And spends in weeping both the night and day.
I know full well the Fates his coming spin,
But that his mates shall first be cast away.
But with my uncle Neptune had no mind
To be at odds, that in such choler is,
For making of his son the Cyclops blind.
But come, I'll shew you Ithaca. First, this
The port of Phorcys is ; this th' olive-tree,
There near it is the gloomy cavern, where
The nymphs Naiades invoked be,
And by you in that cave much worshipp'd were.
The hill so cloth'd with wood is Neriton.
This said, the mist dissolves, and then Ulysses
His native country joyful looks upon,
And falling on his knees, the soil he kisses.
And then to the Naiades he pray'd,
Hail ! Daughters of high Jove, Naiades,
Ne'er to have seen you more I was afraid;
But oft we shall again, if Pallas please
To give me life, and prosper my dear son,
Your altar fill with gifts as heretofore.
The Goddess Pallas, when his pray'r was done,
Answer'd, Let that thought trouble you no more.
But come, let's now see how your goods to save,
Now presently. 'Twere well that they were laid
Within some rock at bottom of the cave.
Then went she in, and caves in cave survey'd.
Ulysses brought into the grot his store,
Garments, and heavy brass, and golden plate ;
Which Pallas plac'd, and laid a rock o' th' door,
And then in counsel both together sate
The suitors to destroy. Pallas first spake.
Ulysses, said she, think on how you may
Your just revenge of the proud suitors take,
That use your house and substance as their prey;
That marry would your wife by force. But she
Still keeps them off with hopes and promises,
Expecting your return continually,
But than of marriage thinks of nothing less.
Oh ! said Ulysses, but for your advice,
I died had as Agamemnon did.
But now, O Pallas, find out some device,
How of the suitors best I may be rid,
And by me stand, inspiring courage stout,
As when we pull'd Troy's head-gear off her head.
For then to master them I should not doubt,
Three hundred though they were. Then answered
The Goddess Pallas : By you I will stand ;
You cannot fight, but I shall of it know,
And bring unto you such a lucky hand,
That with their blood and brains the ground shall flow.
Come, first I'll make you to men pass unknown:
I'll shrink your skin, that's now so fair and fresh,
And from your head take off that hair so brown,
And cover will with such array your flesh,
As men shall hate the sight of; then your eyes
I'll shrivel up, that were so full and bright,
That in this habit th' woo'rs may you despise,
Nor your wife know you standing in her sight.
Then go you to the master of your swine,
That loves you, and your son, and your consort;
And to direct you to him take this sign :
He's at Crow-rock, thither the swine resort,
And t' Arethusa's well; for why, the oaken
Berries, with that sweet water, make them fat.
Stay there till to him you your mind have spoken,
And well inform'd yourself of your estate.
To Lacedaemon I the while will go,
To call your son Telemachus away,
Who thither went by sea, that he might know
What Menelaus there of you could say.
Then said Ulysses, Goddess, since you could
Have told him all yourself, why did you not ?
Meant you that also he be wand'ring should,
While other men stay feeding on his lot ?
Trouble not you yourself with him, said she :
I sent him, and went with him with intent
To show him to the world abroad. And he
At Sparta treated is to his content.
'Tis true, the suitors with a ship are gone
To wait for, and to kill him by the way;
But I believe, before that that be done,
Some will lie low that now your goods destroy.
And as she spake, she strok'd him with her wand,
And rivel'd seem'd his skin (which was before
So sleek and fair) as if it had been tann'd;
And gray his hair, rivel'd his eyes all o'er.
And then she gave him an ill-favoured rag,
Torn, foul, and smutted filthily with soot,
And over that the pill'd skin of a stag,
And satchel full of holes then added to 't
With twisted-string. And up their counsel brake.
The Goddess Pallas then to Sparta past,
To bid Telemachus his leave to take
Of Menelaus, and go home with haste.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XIV.
Ulysses in form of a beggar goes to Eumaeus, the master of his swine, where ho is well used, and tells a feigned story, and in. forms himself of the behaviour uf the wooers.
BUT he in rugged way, o'er mountains steep,
Through woods obscure unto Eumaeus went,
Whose office was the herds of swine to keep,
And of his servants was most diligent;
And found him in the porch before the door.
The house was handsome, and high-built, and great,
Nor to it was adjoined any more;
Well fenc'd from wind it was, and a warm seat,
Built by himself, on purpose for the swine
Of his good lord, Ulysses, that was gone,
With stone that hewn was from the rocky mine,
Besides those of Laertes and his son;
And with a quickset-hedge enclosed round,
And pales of heart of oak; the hedge without
Set close together, and stuck deep i' th' ground.
And thus the house was fenced round about;
Within the court twelve lodgings were for swine,
And ev'ry one of them held five times ten ;
And there the female and the teeming lyen.
The males lay out, but much diminisht then;
For the proud suitors eaten had the rest,
Eumseus having sent in every day
One of the fattest of the herd and best,
And yet three hundred and threescore were they.
Near to the swine, four dogs were ever lying,
Like to wild beasts, and by Eumaeus fed.
Himself was leather to his foot applying,
Made of a good cow-hide well coloured;
Three dogs attending were the herd; the fourth
Convoying was a swine unto the woo'rs;
The other three ran fiercely bawling forth,
When they Ulysses saw come near the doors;
Ulysses wisely then his staff lets fall,
And presently sits down upon the ground;
But had Eumaeus not come in withal,
An unbeseeming fortune he had found;
Who letting fall the leather for his shoe,
Running and rating came in to his aid:
And snatch'd-up stones abundance at them threw,
And then he to Ulysses spake, and said,
Old man, yourself almost to death you brought,
By those accursed dogs, and me to shame;
As if my sorrow great enough were not,
But that there must be added to it blame.
While sitting here, I for my master weep,
And feed his swine for other men to eat;
He somewhere swallow'd up is in the deep,
Or wanders up and down for want of meat.
But come, old man, into the lodge let's go,
That when of meat and wine you have your fill,
You may then tell me whence you are, and who,
And how much you have suffered of ill.
This said, he led him in and made him sit,
And under him he store of rushes laid;
O'er that a goatskin, thick with hair was it,
Of which a speckled wild goat had been flay'd.
Ulysses, glad to see the man so kind
And very hearty, answered and said,
May all your pray'rs like entertainment find
60 With Jove for whatsoever you have pray'd.
Stranger, then said Eumaeus, it was never
My custom any stranger to neglect;
The poor and stranger are in God's hand ever.
Few are my gifts, and but of small effect,
For servants of young masters stand in fear;
And by the Gods my old one fast is bound
From coming home. 'Twas he that gave me here
A house and fair possession of ground,
As much as fits a master to his swain,
And help'd me too contentedly to wive,
Which taketh off a great part of my pain;
Also the Gods have made my labour thrive.
How happy had I been if he had stayed !
Accursed be that Helen and her kin;
For, for Atrides' sake he anchors weigh'd,
Himself much misery engaging in.
Having thus said, he girded on his coat,
And fetch'd in two young pigs; not long he staid,
But kill'd, singed, jointed, roasted, piping hot
Before Ulysses with the spits be laid,
Then strews them over with the flour of wheat,
And in an ivy bowl he tempers wine,
And sitting o'er against him bids him eat.
Eat, says he, servant's food, the lesser swine;
The great ones are the pamper'd suitors' fare;
The blessed Gods hate evil works, and love
Them that do well; but these men little care
For mercy or for vengeance from above;
Yet enemies and lawless men, when they
Disbark upon another's land, and there
With prey their ship have laden, come away,
And of revenge stand always in great fear.
But these men know not, nor by voice divine
Assured are, Ulysses now is dead;
Yet neither will go hence, nor have design
To seek by lawful ways his wife to wed;
But stay and waste his substance without hoe.
For not a day went o'er their heads that they
Did sacrifice one only beast or two;
And wine abundance drink and cast away.
Ulysses his estate and wealth was such,
In Greece nor Argos, no prince in Epire,
Nor twenty had in Ithaca so much;
And if to have it reckon'd you desire,
Upon the Continent twelve herds of kine,
Twelve herds of goats, as many flocks of sheep,
As many swine-houses replete with swine,
Which herdsmen of the country there did keep;
And here, upon the island's farthest end
There be eleven herds of goats; of these
The goat-keeper does ev'ry day one send,
The best of all, the suitors proud to please;
And daily I the best of all my swine.
Thus said he: but Ulysses silent sate,
Eating his meat, and drinking of his wine,
And plotting in his head the suitors' fate.
When he had supp'd, Eumaeus to the brim
Fill'd up his cup with wine; Ulysses then,
Glad that Eumaeus so well treated him,
Drank, and the cup deliv'ring back again,
Friend, says he, that so rich and valiant man,
Your master, that was for Atrides lost,
If I have seen him, do you think you can
Know him ? God knows I have seen many a coast.
Then answer'd he: There is no stranger able
Nor with his wife nor son to get belief;
The news they tell both take but for a fable,
Invented by their want to get relief;
Many poor men come to Penelope,
And make her weep in vain with tales untrue:
And where you think you shall rewarded be
With coat or other garment, so can you.
But he's devoured by beasts or fowls at land;
Or fish at sea have on his body fed;
And on the shore his bones lie clad in sand.
But howsoe'er it be, the man is dead;
And to his friends has sorrow left behind,
But to me chiefly, who, go where I please,
Shall never such another master find,
Nor ever be again at so much ease;
No, though I should unto my country go,
And parents, that have got and nourished me;
To see them though I wish, I long not so
As I Ulysses long again to see;
Whom, though now absent, I call by his name,
He was so kind, and took such care of me,
That of such small respect I feel some shame;
A second father he should called be.
Friend, said Ulysses, since so hard it is
To make you hope he will so soon be here,
Know that I have not rashly told you this,
What I have spoken I will also swear;
If true, with coat and vest my news requite;
If not, then not, although ill rayed am I:
Of him as of hell-gate I hate the sight
That can by want be made to tell a lie.
Know Jove, the chief of Gods, and then the host
That hath provided for us this good cheer,
And in Ulysses' house doth rule the roast,
Ulysses will be here some time this year;
This month expired, or the next begun,
And be reveng'd of th' wooers impudent
That have dishonoured his wife and son.
Then said Eumaeus, leave this argument;
For your good news nothing will be to pay,
Nor will Ulysses ever come again;
Drink wine, and no more on this subject say,
I cannot think upon him without pain:
And swear no more; true be it all you say.
To me, Laertes, and Penelope,
And to Telemachus 'twill be great joy,
For whom my sorrows much augmented be.
He sprang up like a branch to man's estate;
I thought he would in prowess prove no less
Than's father was, whom he did imitate
In wit and figure and in comeliness:
But now the Gods bereav'd him have of wit,
He's gone to Pyle, to hear what men there say
About his father, whilst the suitors sit
Waiting at sea to kill him by the way.
But him let's leave a while with pow'rs above,
Whether to let him die, or bring him back,
Waiting upon the pleasure of high Jove.
And now of your own woes untie the sack,
That I may know them: tell me truly now
Your own, your father's, and your country's name;
And further I desire you, let me know
Whence are the mariners that with you came
Unto this town ? and tell me this likewise,
Where rideth the good ship that brought you to't ?
For verily I can no way devise
How you should come on horseback or on foot.
Then said Ulysses, Were we here alone,
And meat and drink for so long us attend,
And all the rest about their work were gone,
The year would sooner than my story end.
Of Crete I am, and rich my father was,
And many children more he had, but they
Begotten were according to the laws;
But of a concubine the son was I.
My father was Castor Hylacides,
That was for wealth in Crete much honoured,
And for his children, but lov'd me no less
Than those he had begot in lawful bed.
When he was dead and gone, my brothers proud
Divide his state amongst themselves by lot,
And little of it they to me allow'd:
But for all that a good rich wife I got;
My virtue won her; I no shun-field was,
Nor from my stock degenerate she saw;
(Though from me now my strength be gone, alas!
But you I think can know wheat by the straw ;
For now with hardship I am much decayed.
Mars gave me courage, and Athena skill
To beat up quarters, and by ambush laid
With stratagems my enemies to kill:
Of being slain I never had a thought,
But foremost still I leap'd out with my spear;
And of the foes to death I still one brought,
Unless his feet than my feet swifter were.
And such I was in war. But husbandry,
And keeping home, though that bred children store,
I car'd not for. But ships I lov'd to see,
And war, darts, bows, and shafts, I loved more;
Yet horrible they be to other wights;
For, for such things the Gods have temper'd me.
Many things are there wherein one delights,
Which to another man unpleasant be.
Before the Greeks went to the siege of Troy,
Nine times had I commanded on the seas,
And always our success was good that way,
And of the prey I chose what did me please
Beside my share. And wealth came in apace.
Wise I was thought, and honour'd much in Crete.
And when Jove had decreed Troy to deface,
Idomeneus and I went with the fleet,
Or else we must our credit quite have lost.
Nine years we fought, the tenth we took the town.
And setting up our sails we left the coast,
And by the Gods were tossed up and down.
But Jove determined me more trouble yet:
For needs I would to Egypt go and trade.
A month I stayed at home, then forth I set
With nine good ships, and an ill voyage made.
For when six days I feasted had my crew,
And to the Gods devoutly offer'd part;
A good strong wind from the north heaven blew,
And from the coast of Crete we then depart;
Smoothly we sail'd, safe our arrival was,
Nor man nor ship had any harm at all;
From shore to shore we did in five days pass,
And in the Nile we let our anchors fall.
Then I my fellows bad aboard to stay,
And guard the ships, and some to places high
I sent to watch; but mov'd by lucre, they
On plunder and on rapine had their eye;
The fields they waste, and kill the men, and make
Women and children captives. Then the cry
Arriving at the city, arms they take,
And next day early to the field they hie;
With horse and foot then thundered the field.
Their armour light'ned. My men frighted were:
Some taken and made slaves; some flying kill'd ;
And all the rest ran scattered here and there.
Then I (though 't had been better there t' have died,
So many woes have since befallen me)
Pull'd off my helmet, laid my spear aside,
And buckler too, and kneel'd at the king's knee.
He rescued me, and home with him me brought,
Sitting by him that did his chariot drive:
Though in their heat many to kill me sought,
Yet the king brought me to the town alive.
Seven years I there remained and riches got,
For every man almost me somewhat gave.
Then thither came a merchant, that had not
His fellow in all Egypt for a knave.
His house and riches in Phoenicia were,
And he with lies entic'd me to his home.
With him I went: and there I stay'd a year;
And when the months and days about were come,
He set me in a ship for Libya;
And there together with our goods we sate,
He cracking of the profit he foresaw,
And I suspecting, though it were too late.
With him I went. And when the ship was forth,
We steer'd our course without the isle of Crete;
For by good luck we had a wind full north,
But Jove determine! had we should not see't:
For when the island we had left behind,
And nothing else appeared but sea and sky,
Jove fetched the clouds together with a wind,
Just o'er the ship, and dark 'twas presently;
And therewithal into the ship he threw
His thunderbolt, which whirl'd it round about:
It smelt of brimstone rank. And all the crew
Into the sea it suddenly cast out;
And they like gulls from wave to wave were toss'd.
But Jove, to save me, put into my hand
The ship's tall mast, which with my arms I cross'd,
And after nine days came at last to land.
And in Thesprotia was cast on land;
And the king's son, who chanc'd that way to pass,
Lifted me up as I lay on the sand;
And by king Phaedon well receiv'd I was.
He cloth'd me with good garments, coat and vest.
I ask'd him of Ulysses what he knew?
As he went home, said he, he was my guest,
And what he then had gotten did me shew;
Of brass, and iron, and gold, there was so much,
As might ten ages feed a man alone,
The treasure that he showed me there was such.
But he, he said, was to Dodona gone,
There at the holy oak to be advis'd
(Since he from Ithaca so long has been),
Whether 'twere better to go home disguis'd,
Or so as to be known when he is seen.
The king to me in holy form did swear,
That for the conduct of Ulysses home,
Both ship and mariners then ready were.
But when I went from thence he was not come.
A ship of that place in the harbour lay
Ready to part. The king bad land me there.
But they resolv'd were of another way;
Which made me yet more misery to bear.
When of that land they were got out of sight,
To sell me for a slave they did agree;
My coat and vest they take from me there right,
And gave me the torn coat and rags you see.
Late in the ev'ning they were at the land
Of Ithaca, and bound me fast i' th' ship.
But they to sup thought fit upon the sand,
And leaving me, out of the bark they skip;
But from my bonds some God sure set me free.
Then down I went and to the sea applied
My breast, and round the ship swam speedily,
And in a great thick wood myself I hide.
Sorry they were, and put to sea again,
To stay and seek me they lost labour thought.
Thus by Jove's favour I alive remain,
And to the house of a good friend am brought.
Then said Eumaeus : I confess the story,
Poor man, of this your wand'ring and your pain,
Has had the pow'r to make me very sorry.
But of Ulysses what you say is vain.
I not believe a word. What needed you,
So wise a man as you appear to me,
In vain to tell me anything not true;
When I myself am sure 'twill never be ?
For all the Gods have shown themselves his foes,
That neither suffer'd him to fall at Troy,
Nor, the war done, his best friends to compose
His body for the grave. For either way
He honourably buried had been
To th' honour of his son. But he is dead,
Unspoken of, devour'd by harpies keen ;
And I despis'd sit here to see swine fed;
And never to the city come, but when
Some news is brought unto Penelope,
And she send one to call me. I come then,
And many listening to the news I see.
Some griev'd, and wishing for his coming home;
Some that seek nothing but shot-free to feed,
And these men wish that he may never come.
But I of what they say take little heed;
Especially, since an Ætolian,
As he from place to place for murder fled,
Came to my house, and I relieved the man,
And after found that I was cozened.
He said he saw him with Idomeneus,
In Crete, and that for certain he would come,
(His fleet much hurt repaired) to his house,
Rich, at the next spring, or the next autumn.
Therefore, old man, since you are come to me,
Think not your story anything avails,
Nor that false hopes provoke my charity;
My bounty looks on want and not on tales.
Pity, and fear of Jove, my favours guide.
Ulysses to this answers him, and saith,
Since you trust not my word, nor oath beside,
And in your breast resideth little faith,
Let's make a bargain. If Ulysses come,
Then a good coat and vest shall be my due,
And a safe conduct to Dulichium.
If not, and that I told you prove untrue,
Then make your servants throw me from a cliff,
High and upright, that others may beware
To cozen men into a false belief
Of things they know not, but uncertain are.
Then said Eumaeus : Yes, 'twere a fine deed,
And noble, t' entertain a man with love,
And with good cheer relieve him in his need,
Then kill him, and beg pardon then of Jove.
But now I wish the swine from field were come,
For time it is of supper to advise.
And while they talk, the swains the swine bring home,
And with great noise they pent are in the sties.
Then did Eummaeus to his servants call,
From out the herd to choose one of the best
His far-come friend to entertain withal,
And mend their own fare also with the rest.
'Tis long since others the work to us leave
To feed the swine they eat. Having said that,
Out went he, for the altar wood to cleave ;
And they brought in a five-year-old pig fat,
And laid it on the hearth. Eumaeus there,
Rememb'ring well the Gods, for he was wise,
First from the forehead clippeth off the hair,
And in the fire the same did sacrifice.
Then did he all the Gods above invoke,
That soon and safe Ulysses might arrive;
Next that, he takes a piece of the cleft oak,
And at a stroke did him of life deprive.
Then others take the work into their hands,
And with keen steel they quickly cut his throat.
That being done, with many flaming brands
They singe from head to tail his hairy coat,
And lay him open. Then Eumaeus came,
And folded up the fleshy thighs in fat.
And then into the fire he threw the same.
The rest they cut in lesser parts ; and that
They roast on spits ; and being roasted well
And taken up, on chopping-boards they put it.
Eumaeus then, who thereat did excel,
As he thought fit, did into messes cut it.
But one mess for the nymphs and Mercury
He set aside ; and over that he pray'd;
The rest he set to each one severally.
But to Ulysses the whole chine was laid.
Jove, said Ulysses, be to you as kind
As you to me, and grant all your request.
Friend, said Eumaeus, now your supper mind,
Such as it is. Gods give what they think best.
Then to the Gods he offer'd the first cut,
And fill'd a bowl, and offer'd part of that.
The bowl then in Ulysses* hand he put;
Ulysses it receiv'd, and down he sat.
Mesaulius then sets before him bread,
Which thither brought from Taphos was to sell,
And had been by Eumaeus purchased.
Then heartily unto their meat they fell;
And when to eat they had no more delight,
Mesaulius took off the bread ; and all
Prepared were for sleep. But cold the night
And moonless was ; besides, much rain did falL
Ulysses to the company then spake,
Tempting Eumaeus ; and to get a cloak
From him, or from some other for his sake.
Hear me, Eumaeus, says he, and you folk,
I have a tale to tell. This foolish wine
To laugh and dance is able to provoke
Grave men sometimes that have no such design,
And to speak that which better were unspoke.
But out it shall, since I so much have said.
Oh ! that I were as young and strong as when
Before the town of Troy the watch we laid,
And lodged were amongst the reeds i' th' fen,
By Menelaus and Ulysses led,
And me the third ; the wind at north all night,
We lying with our bucklers covered.
With rain congeal'd, our armour all was white.
And they slept well wrapp d up in cloak and coat,
Safe in their bucklers from the freezing wind;
But like a fool my cloak I had forgot,
I did not think I should such weather find.
And when a third part of the night was gone,
I nudg'd Ulysses, who did next me lie;
He felt me, and to him I made my moan:
Noble Ulysses, I am like to die,
The weather kills me, I have but a coat;
My cloak some demon made me leave behind,
And of such cold quite took away the thought;
I cannot tell what remedy to find.
No sooner said, but remedy he found,
For able was he both to shift and fight,
And said unto me, in a whisp'ring sound,
Peace, lest we heard be by some other wight.
And then with head on elbow, Friend, said he,
I dreamt we from the ships too far lie here.
Let some to Agamemnon go and see,
If he would have us rise and come more near.
Then up rose Thoas, son of Andraemon,
And down he laid his cloak, the which I kept,
And swiftly did to Agamemnon run;
I' th' cloak I wrapp'd myself and soundly slept.
Were I as young and strong as I was then,
Some one a cloak would lend me for respect,
Or else for kindness, 'mongst so many men;
But now my rags are cause they me neglect.
Old man, then said Eumaeus, you have told
Your story well. Each word to purpose is.
To-morrow shake your rags against the cold,
Of what is needful now you shall not miss;
Of cloak or coat there's none of these has shift.
But when Telemachus from Pyle comes back,
From him you will have all you need, of gift;
And then you neither cloak nor coat will lack,
And be conveyed to what place you desire.
With that he rose, and woolly skins of sheep,
And shaggy goat-skins near laid to the fire;
And there Ulysses laid him down to sleep.
And over him a cloak Eumaeus laid,
Both thick and soft it was, which he had kept,
And with it in sharp cold himself arrayed;
And thus Ulysses warmly cover'd slept.
By him the young men lay. But to the sties
Eumaeus went; for fit he thought it not
To lie far from his swine, and out he hies.
Meanwhile Ulysses of his kindness thought.
Eumaeus first of all his sword puts on
O'er his great shoulder: then, against the weather,
A thick warm cloak; and again, that upon,
A great goat-skin, the skin and hair together.
And then with dart in hand, for his defence
'Gainst men and dogs, well armed at the head,
To where the tusked swine lay parted thence,
Within a rock from wind safe covered.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XV.
Pallas sends home Telemachus from Lacedaemon with the presents given him by Menelaus. Telemachus landed, goes first to Eumaeus.
AND then to Lacedaemon Pallas went,
To urge Telemachus his leave to take
Of Menelaus, to whom she had him sent,
And home again what speed he could to make.
Telemachus and Nestor's son she found
Within the entrance of the house abed;
The son of Nestor in a sleep profound.
Sleep came not in Telemachus his head;
Thought of his father open kept his eyes.
Then Pallas to him said: Telemachus,
To stay so long abroad you are not wise,
Leaving your goods with such men in your house,
As lawless there your substance do devour,
Lest afterward you to no purpose come.
Importune Menelaus with all your pow'r,
Or else your mother you'll not find at home:
Her father and her brethren bid her marry
Eurymachus. Of all he bids most high.
Take heed what goods out of your house they carry.
You know what thoughts in female breasts do lie;
They will their present husband's house promote,
But for their former children little care.
For he once dead, they have no longer thought
Of how his children after him shall fare.
Therefore return you, and commit to some
Maid of your own, for faith and care well known,
Such goods as in your house you have at home,
Until you have a good wife of your own.
I tell you more; remember what I say;
The bravest of the suitors lie in wait,
As you return to kill you by the way,
'Twixt Ithaca and Same, in the strait.
They'll fail, I think, of what they go about,
And sooner some of them their graves shall find.
But, howsoever, steer the isles without,
The God that keeps you will provide a wind.
And when at Ithaca you are on land,
Unto the town your ship and fellows send,
But go you to Eumaeus out of hand,
Who, though he keep your swine, is much your friend.
Then Pallas mounted to the sky, and he
Pisistratus awakens with his foot.
'Tis time, said he, that on our way were we;
Let's to the coach, and set the horses to't.
Then said Pisistratus: Too dark 'tis yet
To travel with a coach. Let's therefore stay;
'Twill soon be morning. Let's our presents get,
And by Atrides' self be sent away;
For guests use always to remember those
By whom they have been entertain'd with love.
This said, the morning by and by arose,
And Menelaus toward them did move.
Telemachus then puts on hastily
His coat and cloak to meet him on his way;
And when they were to one another nigh,
Telemachus first spake, and thus did say:
O king, Atrides Menelaus, now,
Even now, dismiss me, let me go my way.
Then said Atrides: E'en now you shall go;
I purpose not to make you longer stay;
For I conceive 'tis not a good man's part,
To make too much or little of his guest,
To hold him when he gladly would depart,
Or press him to begone e'er he thinks best.
In hospitality this rule is true:
Love him that stays, help forth the going guest.
Stay then and take my gift along with you,
And your breakfast of what we have the best.
For he that will a great day's journey make,
Will find both joy and profit in his meat.
And if to visit Greece you pleasure take,
I'll with you go, and with you I'll retreat;
And to the Argive cities be your guide,
And be presented by each princely man,
With whomsoever we at night abide,
Two mules, a gold cup, a brave pot or pan.
Then said Telemachus: I needs must go,
(My father seeking lest myself I lose),
I have left none my goods to look unto,
And robb'd my treasure may be by my foes.
When that was said, forth Menelaus goes,
To give unto his wife and maids command
For breakfast of what then was in the house.
Then Boetheides, who lodg'd near at hand,
Came in; and, bidden by Atrides, cleaves
The wood, makes fire, lays down the roast;
Him to his business then Atrides leaves,
And down came to his treasure of great cost,
He, and his son, and wife Helena. There
Within a room lin'd with sweet-smelling wood,
A temperer to his son he gave to bear,
Of silver pure, which 'mongst the vessels stood ;
And from a chest where robes for matrons were,
She took up one, with great variety
Wrought by herself, which she herself did bear,
Shining and bright as any star i' th' sky;
And forth unto Telemachus they come.
Then said Atrides, Jove grant your request,
And safely may you t' Ithaca come home;
See here my gift, of all I have the best:
'Tis massy silver, gilt about the brim,
By Vulcan made; but then it was possess'd
By th' king of Sidon: I had it of him
When by the way from Troy I was his guest.
Then Helen said, This gift too take from me,
Of Helen's handywork a monument,
To give to her that your dear wife shall be;
Think it meanwhile as to your mother sent;
Then gave it to Telemachus his hands.
I' th' coach Pisistratus then placed all,
And at the goodly gifts amazed stands;
Atrides then led them into the hall,
And made them sit; and while they sitting were,
A grave maid-servant from a golden ewer,
To wash their hands, pours on the water clear
Over a basin all of silver pure.
One tables sets, another lays on bread,
And from their store many good things brings out;
The messes Boetheides severed;
Atrides' son the wine delivered out.
When their desire of food was satisfied,
Up rose Telemachus and Nestor's son,
And to their coach they the swift horses tied,
And in the coach were ready to be gone;
And were already got the court without,
But after them Atrides followed,
And in his hand a gold cup he brought out
Of wine, and standing at the horses' head,
Brave youths, said he, to Nestor me commend,
That as a father was to me at Troy.
Farewell, and may you to your journey's end
With safety travel and arrive with joy.
Then said Telemachus, all this I'll say,
I wish at home I may so treated be
Within my father's house at Ithaca,
Besides the presents you have given me.
As he said this, an eagle dexter flew,
And seiz'd a great white tame goose grazing near;
The standers-by shouted and cried, Shue, shue,
But yet away the eagle bore him clear;
And none but with the sight was well content.
Then to Atrides said Pisistratus,
This prodigy, unto you is it sent
From Jupiter ? Or is it sent to us ?
While what to answer he was taking care,
Helen prevented him. I will, said she,
First tell you what hereon my own thoughts are,
And to my mind by th' Gods infused be ;
You saw the eagle come down from the hill,
Where nature placed him to dwell and breed,
And kill that goose: so shall Ulysses kill
The suitors that upon his substance feed.
Or, it may be, already there he is
Devising for the suitors some ill end;
O Gods, then said Telemachus, that this
Were so indeed! to you then should I send
As to a God my vows. This said, away
They whipp'd their willing horses through the town,
Which on the plain their harness shake all day,
And were at Pheres when the sun went down.
There Diocles, Orsilochus his son,
(Orsilochus by Alphaeus begot),
Dwelt, and of entertainment want was none,
Nor acceptable presents were forgot;
And when the morning had herself array'd,
Again they put their horses to the coach,
Which when the whip they felt once, never stayed,
Till to the town of Pyle they did approach.
Then said Telemachus to Nestor's son,
You promised, I your father should decline;
But since we here are, how can that be done ?
And therefore let us both our counsels join.
Friends you and I, and friends our fathers were;
One age we have; this voyage is some tie;
Draw me not from my ship, but leave me here,
Lest th' old man force me at his house to lie,
In kindness, when I have such need to go.
This said, Pisistratus considered
What to make good his promise he should do.
And then this counsel came into his head.
Turn off, said he, the coach to the sea-side,
And Menelaus' gifts a-shipboard stow,
And get aboard; your small stay here I'll hide.
So your departure shall my father know.
For sure I am, if he know you are here,
So violent he is, he'll hither come,
And call you to his house and stay you there,
And be a hindrance to your going home.
And though away you'll not be empty sent,
Yet will he doubtless very angry be.
This said, unto his father home he went.
Telemachus then bade his company
To see prepar'd all things for sailing fit,
And go aboard ; aboard went also he.
The rowers on their seats in order sit.
Thus they about their going busy be.
Then came a stranger, that a prophet was,
And fled from Argos then for homicide,
And by descent was of Melampus' race,
And stood near to Telemachus his side.
For this Melampus once had dwelt in Pyle,
And rich, but fled, by Neleus oppress'd,
And bound he lay in prison for awhile.
But afterward, he got himself released,
And brought to Neleus his herds again,
And had his daughter Pero for reward;
But left her with his brother to remain
For wife. And then did Pyle no more regard,
But went to Argos, where a wife he got,
And children twain had: first, Antiphates.
And he the valiant Oicleus begot,
And Oicleus begat Amphlareus,
That was belov'd by Pallas and by Jove,
And yet he lived not till he was old.
He died at Thebes, betrayed by his love,
That him discover'd for a chain of gold.
Alemaeon and Amphilochus he got.
But Mantius, Melampus' second son,
Cleitus and Polyphides then begot.
Cleitus was fair, but children he had none ;
Aurora snatch'd him from the earth when young,
For mortals he in beauty did excel,
And placed him th' immortal Gods among.
And Polyphides, Phœbos loved well;
And to him gave the gift of prophecy.
And since Amphiraus was dead and gone,
To foretell anything with certainty
Upon the whole earth like him there was none.
Displeased by his father, Mantius,
At Hyperesia he prophecied.
His son it was, call'd Theoclymenus,
That then stood by Telemachus his side,
When he the blessed Gods was praying to.
And said, Since worshipping I find you here,
By him you worship, tell me truly who
You are, your father who, and dwelling where?
Stranger, then said Telemachus, I dwell
At Ithaca, born there ; my father's name
Ulysses, if he live; but who can tell ?
And to hear news of that, I hither came.
Then answer'd Theoclymenus, And I,
From Argos town, for killing of a man,
Pursued by his kin, am forc'd to fly;
Take me aboard that only save me can.
Welcome you are, then said Telemachus;
Aboard let's go, where you shall have such cheer
As we can make, and hath contented us.
Then took and on the deck he laid his spear ;
And up into the ship he went, and at
The stem he placed himself, and close by him
The stranger Theoclymenus down sat.
Then bids Telemachus, the ship to trim.
And straight the mast upright they set and bind,
And hoist their sails with ropes of good cow-hide;
And Pallas sent them a good strong forewind,
And swiftly did the ship the sea divide.
The sun was down, and doubtful was the light,
When he to Pherae came and passed by;
And then by Elis coasted he all night,
And came unto the Thoae Islands nigh;
And thought upon the suitors in his way.
Ulysses and Eumaeus supping sat,
And when their hunger they had put away,
The tables gone, they leisure had to chat.
And then Ulysses had a mind to know,
Whether Eumaeus rather had he stayed
I' th' lodge with him, or to the city go;
And to the company he spake, and said:
Hear me, Eumaeus, and you all, his friends;
I stay here helping to consume your meat,
My mind me to the city rather bends;
For bread and wine there begging I shall get.
But I must then entreat you to provide
Some good man to go with me. Being there,
Necessity itself will be my guide
To find the houses where there is good cheer.
And if I go unto Ulysses' doors,
Unto Penelope I can tell news,
And make myself well known unto the woo'rs,
And they to give me meat will not refuse.
I can do any service that they will,
(Thank Mercury, to whom I owe that good),
Few be they can compare with me for skill
To make a fire, or to cleave out wood,
To roast and carve meat, or wine to give out,
Or anything that great men's servants do.
Ay me, Eumaeus said, poor man, what thought
Is this of yours ? D' ye long to perish so ?
As you must do, if you among them stay;
Their insolence is known up to the sky.
You are not like their serving men ; for they
Are young, and are apparell'd handsomely
With coat and vest; their heads and faces shine
With unguents sweet. Stay therefore here with me;
There's none that at your staying doth repine,
Nor I, nor any of my company.
Telemachus, when he comes home again,
Shall give you garments, a fair coat and vest,
And good shoes also to your feet, and then
See you convoy'd to what place you think best.
To this, Ulysses answered, and said,
Oh ! that Jove lov'd you but as well as I.
You have me from a wretched wand'ring stayed.
The belly brings to men such misery.
Then said Ulysses, Since I am to stay,
Say, of Ulysses' parents, if you know
His father and his mother, whether they
Be both remaining yet alive or no.
To this, Eumaeus said : Laertes lives,
But woefully and weary of his life;
Still for the absence of his son he grieves ;
But more lamenteth the death of his wife.
The loss of her was that first made him old.
She died for grief, thinking her son was dead;
As sad a death it was as can be told.
May we from such death be delivered.
While she was living, though she grieved were,
When cause there was, I could have asked her mind
Freely. For why, with her own daughter dear
She brought me up, and never was but kind.
This daughter Ctimene, when come of age
(For she the youngest was) to Same went,
To a rich man given in marriage.
But I, well clad in coat and vest, was sent
(And shoes upon my feet) into the field;
For she a purpose had to do me good.
But now the time does no such kindness yield,
And yet the blessed Gods provide me food;
For they so well have multiplied my swine,
That we have still enough of meat and drink,
And wherewithal to make a poor man dine,
Although the suitors' riot make them shrink ;
But since this woe Penelope betel,
'Tis harsh to her to hear of business:
Yet servants need her both to ask and tell
All that belongeth to their offices,
And also sometimes, maybe, need they had
I' th' house to eat, and carry somewhat home,
Of that whereof servants are most part glad,
And which unto their lodges never come.
Ho, said Ulysses, since it doth appear
You were a traveller when but a boy,
Tell me, I pray you, what your adventures were,
And what your sufferings were upon the way.
Was your town plunder'd by the enemies,
And you brought hither as a part o' th' prey ?
Or been by thieves (for you were no ill prize),
As you kept sheep or cattle, brought away ?
Then said Eumaeus, Since to hear the story
Of how I hither came it is your pleasure,
Sit patiently, the wine there stands before ye;
For sleep and joy the long nights give us leisure,
It is not good too soon to go to bed;
For too much sleep is but a weariness;
The rest that will may go, and, morning spread,
Drive forth the swine, which is their business.
Meanwhile let us sit here, and drink and chat,
And stories of our sad adventures tell;
For much contentment there is ev'n in that,
To them that suffer'd have and come off well.
But to my story now. An isle there is
Under the tropic of the sun, not great,
Call'd Syria, but very fertile 'tis,
Well stor'd with kine, and sheep, and wine and wheat,
Where famine never enter'd, nor disease
Amongst the people. When a man was aged,
Dian' and Phœbus made him die with ease,
And gentle shafts the pain of death assuaged.
Two towns it had; their laws were not the same;
But of them both my father was the king.
Phœnician merchants, rats, then thither came,
And in their ships did many baubles bring.
There then was in my father's house a maid,
Phœnician born, that well could sow and spin;
As washing clothes she at the sea-side stayed,
One of these merchants sooth'd her into sin,
(For good workwomen may be made to do that,
If flatter'd well), and then he ask'd her name,
And whence she was. And truth she told the rat.
From Sidon, said she, a rich town, I came,
And daughter am of wealthy Arybas;
But Taphian thieves took me by force away,
As homewards from the field I going was,
And sold me to this man with whom I stay.
Then said the merchantman that did her wive,
Will you to Sidon home return with me,
And see your parents ? They are still alive,
And rich as heretofore. I will, said she,
If you and all your company will swear,
At Sidon you will set me safe ashore.
And when all sworn, and agreed on it were,
The woman spake again, and this said more:
If any of you see me in the street,
Or at the well, speak not at all to me,
Lest any of the house should chance to see't,
And tell my master. Jealous he will be,
Put me in bonds, and seek you to destroy;
Buy quickly what you buy, and ready be,
And secret. When you mean to go away,
Then send a privy messenger to me;
For all the gold I can lay hand upon
I'll bring, and somewhat else boat-hire to pay;
For I the charge have of my master's son;
Much profit he will yield if brought away.
Playing without, I'll take him by the hand
And lead him to the ship; much worth he'll be,
Transported into whatsoever land.
And home again, this said, returned she.
A year it was before these merchants went.
Meanwhile they buy and lade the ship; and when
They had their freight, straightway a man they sent
To bid the maid make haste away. And then
A man unto my father's house they sent;
A crafty merchant, with a chain of gold
And shining amber, on which were intent
My mother and her maids; they much behold,
And take into their hands, and for it bid.
Meanwhile the man a nod gave with his head,
The woman quickly understand him did,
And by the hand me out a-door she lead.
Aboard went he. The woman look'd about,
Saw standing on the tables many a cup,
Left by my father and his guests gone out,
And presently she three of them took up;
Out went she, leading me, that simple was.
The sun went down, and dusky was the way,
And to the ship we unpursued pass,
To th' haven where the merchants' vessel lay.
And then go they, and with them we aboard,
And sail'd before the wind six days and nights,
And to us Jove a fair gale did afford,
Diana on the seventh the woman smites,
And suddenly into the sink she fell;
And her they throw into the sea for cheer
To fishes; but the rest arrived well
At Ithaca. Laertes bought me there.
You see now how I hither came. Then said
Ulysses, Truly you have pass'd much woe;
But Jove in part your sorrows bath allay'd,
That in a good man's house at ease are now,
That gives you meat and drink with a good will;
With him you live a happy life. But I
Have longer wand'ring been, and must be still.
Thus 'twixt themselves did they say and reply,
Then went to sleep. The night was almost past,
And with the morn Telemachus was nigh;
Quickly his mates take down the sails and mast,
And row the ship to land, and there her tie;
Then on the beach they quickly break their fast,
And with fresh water temper their old wine.
And when desire of meat and drink was past,
I'll, said Telemachus, go to my swine,
But to the city will return at night,
Next morn I'll feast you with good flesh and wine,
Your labour in my passage to requite.
And then said Theoclymenus divine,
What will you do meanwhile, I pray, with me ?
Unto your mother's house must I go too,
Or to some other man commended be ?
Then answered Telemachus: No, no,
To bring you to my house in vain it were.
My mother in my absence you'll not see,
She seldom to the suitors doth appear,
At top o' th' house at work still sitteth she.
But I will recommend you to another,
In Ithaca of best repute; his name
Eurylochus, and best he loves my mother,
And what my father did would do the same;
But folded up it lies yet in Jove's lap,
Whether he first shall married be or dead.
As he this said, there did a falcon hap
(Apollo's bird) to fly above his head
Dexter, and in his pounces held a dove;
And as he plumed her the feathers fell
Scatter'd as they descended from above
(Which Theoclymenus observed well)
Betwixt Telemachus and the ship's side;
And to Telemachus said secretly:
This from the Gods is, and doth good betide
Both to yourself and your posterity.
I knew that it portended at first sight,
No family but yours was here to reign.
O, said Telemachus, that that were right,
Such love, such gifts, you then should from me gain,
As men that saw you should your fortune bless.
Pyraeus then his friend was standing by,
To him he then his stranger did address:
You are my best friend of the company;
Unto your care this stranger I commend,
To be well treated till I come again.
Though long you stay, said he, I do intend
The best I can your friend to entertain,
And with some gift. Then to the ship he goes,
He and his mates. They on their benches sit.
Telemachus then putteth on his shoes,
And takes a spear that for his hand was fit;
The ship about they to the city row.
Telemachus pursuing his design,
On foot unto Eumaeus forth did go,
His faithful servant, master of the swine.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XVI.
Telemachus sends Eumaeus to the city to tell his mother of his return; and how in the mean time Ulysses discovers himself to his son.
EUMÆUS and Ulysses risen were,
And men, for dinner, sent out to fetch hogs,
And fire was made. Ulysses chanc'd to hear
One tread without, and whining of the dogs
That barked not, and to Eumaeus said:
Some one of your acquaintance now comes in ;
I hear his feet. The dogs are well appai'd.
These words scarce said, Telemachus was seen.
Eumaeus, who then temp'ring was of wine,
Lets fall his cups, and meets him at the door;
Kisses his head and hands, and both his eyne,
And presently with tears his eyes run o'er.
As when a loving father sees his son
That had been ten years absent, and for whom
He had lamented long, come home alone;
So glad was he Telemachus was come,
And hugged him as one that had 'scap'd but then
From death ; and weeping said, O are you come ?
I never thought to see you more, sweet man,
Since first I knew to Pyle you went from home.
But come, come in, dear heart, that I may fill
Myself with looking, you're not oft among
Your herdsmen in the field, but almost still
I' th' city, in the suitors' dismal throng.
Yes, said Telemachus, for why, I come
To see you, and to ask about my mother;
Whether she still remaining be at home,
Or gone be with a suitor one or other,
Leaving her husband's chamber and his bed
With cobwebs hung for want of furniture ?
No, she yet stays, Eumaeus answered,
And great the grief is which she doth endure;
And day and night the tears fall from her eyes.
Telemachus went in. His father there
To give him place did from his chair arise.
Sit still, said he, I'll find a seat elsewhere
In my own house. This man will one provide.
This said, he past unto another seat,
To which Eumaeus a wool-fell applied
With rushes under it. Then brought in meat,
Trenchers of meat roasted the day before,
And in a basket sets on bread of wheat,
And in an ivy-tankard wine good store,
And o'er against Ulysses takes his seat.
Then on the meat prepar'd their hands they laid.
When thirst and hunger nothing more requir'd,
Telemachus unto Eumaeus said,
And thus about his new-come guest inquired:
Father, said he, I pray you tell me now,
His own, his father's, and his country's name;
And farther I desire you let me know
Where are the mariners that with him came
Unto this place? And tell me this likewise,
Where rideth the good ship that brought him to't ?
For verily I can no way devise,
How he should come on horseback or on foot.
To this Eumaeus answered agen:
He says himself that he was born in Creet,
And seen the cities has of many men,
Wand'ring about, for Jove so thought it meet.
Thesprotian rats got him aboard their ship,
And forced were in Ithaca to land;
There he found means to give them all the slip;
So came to mine, and from mine to your hand.
I give him you, as you think best to use.
To this again Telemachus replies:
That which you say, Eumaeus, is bad news.
How to receive him I cannot devise.
I am too young to save him with my hands,
If injury be done him by the wooers.
And at this time my mother doubtful stands,
Whether to stay within my father's doors,
And with the people her good name maintain,
Or with that suitor wed and go away,
That to her shall afford the greatest gain.
But since the stranger at your house doth stay,
I'll give him garments, a good coat and vest,
A spear in's hand, and good shoes to his feet,
And him convey to what place he thinks best.
Or if to keep him here you think it meet,
I'll hither for him garments send and food,
That he no charge be to your family.
To set him with the suitors 'tis not good
For me nor him, they so unruly be.
Hell be derided there, and I shall grieve,
But 'gainst so many men what can be done ?
The strength of one man cannot him relieve.
Ulysses then made answer to his son.
Oh! friend, said he, it bites my heart to hear
What of the suitors in your house you say,
How 'gainst your mind they proudly domineer.
It is because you willingly give way ?
Or that your people by divinity
Adverse are to you or your government ?
Or are your kindred, that should stand you by
In quarrel and in battle, discontent ?
Oh, were I young, and of the mind I am,
Or that I were the great Ulysses' son,
Or he himself, and wand'ring hither came,
I'd have my head cut off by any one,
If I were not reveng'd upon them all.
And though they were too hard for me alone,
I'd rather in my own house fighting fall,
Than daily see such ugly things there done.
Strangers abus'd, maids tous'd ill favour'dly,
And corn and wine consumed without end,
And to no purpose foolishly; for why,
They never shall arrive where they intend.
Then said Telemachus : No word o' th' Gods
Hath me deprived of the people's love,
Nor any brother is with me at odds,
Nor any other cause I know but Jove.
How many lords within these isles do sway,
Same, Dulichium, Ithaca, and Zant,
So many suitors duly every day
For marriage with my mother my house haunt.
Whilst she can none put off, and will none marry,
They spend my corn and wine, and cattle kill,
And eating here, and drinking still they tarry,
And me perhaps, at last, they murther wilL
But what they shall do none but God can telL
But, father, go you to Penelope,
And let her know I am arrived well.
And let no other person know but she.
And after you have told her, tarry not.
Make haste. At your return, I shall be here,
For many are they that my death do plot.
True, said Eumaeus, but not ill it were
To let Laertes know it by the way,
Who when his grief but for Ulysses was,
Did oversee his workmen all the day,
But since by sea to Pylus you did pass,
He neither oversees his husbandry,
Nor eats his meat, as still he did before;
But groaning and lamenting woefully
Liveth. Telemachus did thus reply:
The case is hard. But grieved though he be,
Let him alone ; go not out of your way.
For first I wish my father here to see,
If in my choice to have my wishes lay.
But pray my mother thither send a maid,
To tell Laertes secretly the news.
When to him thus Telemachus had said,
Eumaeus on his feet tied on his shoes.
Ulysses and his son now left alone,
Came Pallas to them. At the door she stood;
But by Telemachus she was not known.
Gods are not known but by whom they think good.
Ulysses knew her. Fair she was and tall,
And of a grave wise matron had the look;
And by the dogs perceiv'd was. For they all
Whining and terrified the place forsook.
A sign t' Ulysses she made with her brow.
Then he went forth, and she unto him spake.
Son of Laertes, wise Ulysses, now
Your son with your design acquainted make;
And when you have the suitors' fate contrived,
Go to the city both. 'Twill not be long
Before I at your combat be arrived,
And give you my assistance in the throng.
And stroak'd him over with a wand of gold,
And presently his rags were cloak and coat;
His cheeks were plump; his beard black to behold,
To which his goodly locks unlike were not.
This done, the Goddess mounted to the skies.
Ulysses to the house again retir'd;
But from him then his son turned off his eyes.
So much this alteration he admir'd ;
He thought it was some God, and to him said,
You are some God descended from the sky;
Your colour's better, better you arrayed.
Save us. Our gifts shall on your altar lie.
And then Ulysses said, God I am none.
What ails you with the Gods me to compare ?
For I your father am, whom you bemoan,
And for whom you have had such pain and care;
And then embrac'd and kiss'd his son, and wept,
So that the ground he stood upon was wet,
Though hitherto his eyes he dry had kept;
But by his son believ'd he was not yet.
You're not, says he, my father, but some spright
That flatters me into more misery.
Of mortal men there's none that has the might
To do such things without a deity.
A God indeed can man'is decay redeem;
You were but now an old man ill arrayed;
And now like one new come from heaven seem;
To this Ulysses answered and said,
Telemachus, be not amaz'd too much;
Other Ulysses you shall never see.
I am the man, although my luck be such,
As after twenty year not known to be;
The change you see was by Athena wrought,
That made me what she list, for she can do't.
A beggar old, or youth in a fine coat,
And handsome cloak, and other garment to't;
For easy 'tis for Gods on mortal men
To lay on glory, and the same displace.
This said, Ulysses sat him down. And then
Telemachus his father did embrace,
And then they both together wept and sobb'd,
As eagles or as vultures, when they see
Their nests by country-people spoil'd and robb'd,
And young ones kill'd before they fledged be;
So wept these two, and weeping there had staid
Perhaps until the closing of the day,
But that Telemachus t' Ulysses said,
Father, how came you t' Ithaca, I pray ?
Where are the seamen that set you ashore ?
For sure I am you could not come by land.
In a good ship, said he, I was brought o'er
From th' Isle Phœacia, and left o' th' sand;
That people, strangers all that thither come,
Convoy unto the place where they would be;
And when I was desirous to go home,
At Ithaca asleep they landed me,
Enrich'd with presents, garments, gold and brass;
And in a cave I hidden have the same;
And, as I by Athena counsell'd was,
The suitors' fate to weave I hither came.
Tell me how many now they are, that we
Consider may if we two and no more
Shall be enough to get the victory,
Or must we of some else the aid implore ?
O father, said his son, you are renown'd
For a good councillor, a man of might;
But very hard the thing is you propound,
That two men should against so many fight.
They are not only ten, or two times ten,
But many more. Their number, let me see,
From out Dulichium two-and-fifty men;
And with them lusty serving men twice three.
From Same chosen men come twenty-four;
Twenty from Zant, and twelve of Ithaca.
Medon, the squire, a fiddler, and what more ?
Two cooks that of a feast had learnt the law.
'Twill be but ill revenge to fight them all;
Therefore I think it best to look for aid,
And some good neighbour to assist you call.
To this Ulysses answered and said,
Consider then, and cast it in your mind,
Whether we two, Pallas and Jove to boot,
Will serve, or must we other succours find ?
Then said his son, O father, that will do't.
Those friends indeed will serve us very much.
Immortals against mortals have great odds;
Higher they stand, and of themselves are such,
As would too hard be for all th' other Gods.
Yes, said Ulysses, if the woo'rs and I
Come but to battle once, 'twill not be long
Ere such good aids will have the victory,
And make an end of this unruly throng.
But you, Telemachus, go early home
To-morrow morning; mingle with the rabble;
I after you will with Eumaeus come,
Like to a beggar old and miserable;
Where if you see me us'd ill-favour'dly,
Thrown at, or pull'd about the house by th' heels,
As unconcem'd, endure it patiently,
What pain soever thereby your heart feels;
But yet with gentle words you may persuade them;
For sure I am they will not you obey,
The Gods immortal have so stupid made them,
As on themselves to bring their fatal day.
But now to what I say attentive be.
When Pallas shall me prompt, I'll with my head
Make you a sign. As soon as that you see,
Let th' arms in th' hall away be carried,
And say, if any suitor ask wherefore,
The fire hath hurt them, and they are not now
Such as Ulysses left them heretofore,
When with the Greeks t' Ilium he did go.
Or say, for fear some quarrel should arise,
By th' indiscretion of one or other,
You thought the council would not be unwise,
To take them thence. One drawn sword draws another.
But two spears, two swords, and two shields keep stilL
To take in hand when we onset make.
Jove from mistrust and Pallas keep them will:
And farther from me this instruction take.
As I your father am, and you my son,
Of my return a word let no man hear,
Father, or wife, or servant any one;
To speak of it in company forbear.
But let's of the maid-servants you and I
Endeavour what we can to know the mind;
And your men-servants also I would try,
From whom you honour or dishonour find.
Father, then said Telemachus, you'll see,
I am not loose of tongue. But 'tis not good
The men to question. 'Twill lost labour be,
Because without the house they have their food,
Though there they havoc of your substance make.
Do as you please. 'Tis a long business
Of ev'ry one of them account to take.
Inform yourself of th' women's wickedness,
I would not willingly go up and down
To ev'ry lodge, what there is done to see.
For our work done, theirs will be better known,
If you with signs from Jove acquainted be.
Thus they discours'd. The mariners meanwhile
Had brought into the haven of the town
The ship that brought Telemachus from Pyle;
Then drew it up to land, the sails pull'd down.
The presents unto Clytius they bear,
And to Penelope a man they sent,
That of her son's arrival she might hear,
And how unto Eumaeus' lodge he went,
And sent the ship to put her out of fear,
Lest she should for his absence longer weep.
Eumaeus was for the same business there;
He from his lodge, the other from the deep.
He told the queen th' arrival of her son;
And to her maids the other told the same.
And when they both their messages had done,
Back to Telemachus Eumaeus came;
At this the suitors vex'd, look'd down and sad,
And out o' th'gates together went, where they
Amongst themselves a consultation had,
And to them thus Eurylochus 'gan say.
'Tis very strange, Telemachus is come,
We thought he never should return agen;
But since 'tis so, to call our fellows home,
Let's hire and man a boat with fishermen.
His words scarce out, Amphinomus comes near,
And turning towards the haven them espied
Furling their sails, and laughing said, Th'are here,
You need not any messenger provide.
Some God sure told him of them, or else they
Saw the ship coming by, but were too slow
To overtake her. This said, they away
Down to the waters-side together go;
And up unto the land the ship they hale;
Their servants what was in her bear away.
And then to consultation they fall,
Nor with them suffer'd any else to stay.
To them Antinous began and said,
The Gods Telemachus have strangely kept.
Our scouts from morn to night o' th' mountains stayed,
Nor on the land by night we ever slept,
But rowed up and down until 'twas day.
We thought he could not 'scape in any wise;
And yet some daemon brought him has away.
Come, let us how to kill him here devise:
For whilst he lives our work will not be done;
Crafty he is, and can his purpose hide;
Nor have we yet sufficiently won
The people of the town with us to side.
The multitude to council he will call,
And ranting tell them that we go about
To murther him, and so enflame them all,
That from our country they will cast us out,
And make us beg our bread. Which to eschew
Let's kill him in the fields, or in the way;
Divide his goods amongst us, as is due.
His houses to his mother leave we may,
To give to him with whom she means to marry.
If this you like not, but that he shall stay,
And have his father's state, then let's not tarry,
But each man to his own house go his way,
And there contend who shall the best endow her,
And in her favour the superior be;
Or let the fates dispose the happy hour
To whom she has a mind to. So said he.
Then spake Amphinomus, the noble son
Of the rich Nisus Aretiades,
Amongst the wooers inferior to none,
And best of all Penelope did please.
Telemachus, said he, I would not kill;
'Tis dangerous to slay the royal blood;
But let us first of Jove inquire the will;
If he command, I'll do't, and say 'tis good;
If he forbid, I wish you to desist.
So said Amphinomus, and 'twas thought fit;
And presently the council was dismissed:
And then into the house they go and sit.
And now Penelope resolved t' appear
Before her suitors sitting in the hall.
For to her son she knew they traitors were;
Medon, that with them was, had told her all.
Down to the hall she went, and in the door
Having a woman at each hand, she staid,
And proud Antinous rebuked sore.
Antinous, you traitor impudent, she said,
In Ithaca the glory you have got
Of wit and eloquence. You are belied.
Madman, what ails you, my son's death to plot,
And to his strangers here to show such pride?
Poor strangers have their passport from the Gods.
To do them wrong is great impiety;
And worse between themselves to be at odds.
You know your father hither once did fly,
Fearing the people whom he had offended,
Joining with Tophian thieves to make a prey
Of Thesprote cattle, and were here defended
Against the Thesprotes, though our friends were they.
They slain him had, and seized his estate,
But that Ulysses saved him; and now,
For to requite him, what dye, O ingrate?
You eat his cattle; and his wife you woo,
And kill my son, and daily me molest.
Desist, I tell you, and the rest persuade
To leave these evil courses, you were best.
To this Eurylochus then answer made.
Icarius' daughter, wise Penelope,
Fear not. None shall lay hands upon your son,
As long as I am living and can see;
Who does, his blood shall on my spear down run.
His father oft has set me on his knee,
And given me good wine, and good meat roast.
Afraid of any wooer you need not be;
Telemachus of all men I love most.
Of death from God's hand none can warrant you;
But as for us you may securely sleep.
So said he, and yet then his death did brew.
Away went then Penelope to weep,
And wept till Pallas came and clos'd her eyes;
And to Ulysses and his son at night
Eumasus came. A swine they sacrifice;
And then did Pallas from the sky alight,
And with her rod return'd Ulysses old,
And ill array'd, for fear he should be known
T' Eumaeus or Penelope, and told
By them to others, and abroad be blown.
Telemachus then to Eumaeus said:
Eumaeus, are you come? what news from town?
The suitors, are they come, that me way-laid?
Or do they for me still look up and down?
Then said Eumaeus, I did not inquire,
Upon my message only was my mind;
That done, to make haste back was my desire.
But there I chanc'd a messenger to find,
Sent by your mates to tell Penelope,
And he the news t' your mother first did tell.
I saw a ship that new came in from sea,
But whether that were it, I know not well.
Aboard were many arms and many men;
And though I were not sure, I thought 'twas it.
Telemachus on's father smiled then,
But so as that Eumaeus could not see't.
Then came their supper in, which they fell to.
A supper good they had, and were well pleased;
And when their hunger had no more to do,
With gentle sleep their fear and care disseised.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XVII.
Telemachus relates to his mother what he had heard at Pyle and Sparta.
SOON as the rosy morning did appear,
Riseth Telemachus; his shoes puts on,
And takes into his hand his heavy spear,
And hasteth to the city to be gone;
And said unto Eumaeus, Father, I
Am going to the city, there to see
My mother, that will never cease to cry
And sob, till in her sight I standing be;
But the poor stranger guide you to the town,
With broken meat and wine himself to feed,
Such as he gets by begging up and down.
I cannot maintain all men that have need.
Tak't how he will. For I love to speak plain.
Then said Ulysses: Sweet friend, nor would I
Here in the country willingly remain,
For beggars' wants great cities best supply.
Here at the lodge no service I can do;
And now to learn of others am too old.
With this man to the city I would go,
But warm me first I would, for very cold
This morning is; I fear this hoary frost.
Far hence the town is, and my garments thin;
And which I reason have to fear the most,
My rags will to the air betray my skin.
Telemachus then speedily went home,
With mischief to the suitors in his head;
And when he to the palace gate was come,
T* a pillar sets his spear, and entered.
Euryclea was cov'ring chairs i' th' hall,
And saw him first, and straight unto him went;
And then the other woman-servants all
Declared with much kissing their content;
Then, like Diana or fair Aphrodite,
Penelope came shedding tears of joy,
And on his shoulders laid her arms milk-white,
And kiss'd his head and eyes, and thus did say:
Telemachus, my dear child, are you here?
I never thought again your face to see,
Since of your father news you went to hear
At Pyle, by sea, without acquainting me.
But tell me, what at Pyle they of him say?
Mother, said he, pray let me take my breath,
My thoughts in great disorder are to-day;
I come but now from out the jaws of death;
But with your maids go to your chamber now,
And in your fairest garments you array,
And to th' immortal Gods all make a vow
A perfect hecatomb to them you'll pay,
If Jove be pleased our losses to restore.
But I unto the market-place must haste,
To treat a stranger whom I sent before,
And till my coming with Piraeus plac'd.
Penelope then to her chamber went,
And put herself into her best array.
Her vows to all th' immortal Gods she sent
A perfect hecatomb to them to pay,
If Jove be pleas'd her losses to restore.
Telemachus in hand then takes his spear,
And with two dogs at's heels went out a door,
And Pallas made him like a God appear.
The people all admired him as he came;
The suitors all about him gathered,
And spake him fair, while in their hearts they frame
Plots and devices how his blood to shed.
But he his seat amongst them quickly quits,
To Mentor and his father's ancient friends,
Altherses, Antephus, with them he sits,
And there the time discoursing with them spends.
Piraeus not long after cometh in,
And brings his stranger with him to the place,
Who there a very little while had been
But that Telemachus hard by him was.
Then, said Piraeus to Telemachus,
Send of your women some to fetch away
The goodly presents you left at my house.
No, said Telemachus, let them yet stay,
I know not yet th' event of our affairs.
If th' wooers kill me and my goods divide,
I rather had they should be yours than theirs.
If I kill them, and God be on my side,
Then send them, and I'll take them joyfully.
And brought away the stranger with him home.
And by-and-bye the suitors thither hie;
And when they all into the house were come,
On couches and on chairs their cloaks they lay,
And presently into their baths they go;
And bath'd and oil'd, again themselves array,
And sat them down. And supper ready now,
A maid then water in a golden ewer
To wash their hands over a basin brings;
The basin also was of silver pure.
Another on the tables lays good things,
That in her keeping were, and sets on bread.
Penelope sat spinning in the door.
And then they heartily fell to and fed;
And when desire of meat and drink was o'er,
Unto her son Penelope then spake:
I will, said she, upon my bed lie down,
Though there I ever weeping lie awake,
Since he went with Atrides to Troy town,
Since you would not vouchsafe to let me know
The news you heard, before these men came in.
Mother, said he, the truth I'll tell you now;
We went to Pyle; and Nestor we have seen;
And lovingly we entertained were.
For as a father entertains his son
Come home from far, so were we treated there,
And welcome to his children every one.
But that Ulysses was alive or dead,
He met with no man that could tell him true.
But us to go to Sparta counselled,
And said, if any, Menelaus knew;
And us with coach and horses did provide,
(Where we saw Helen, bane of Greece and Troy.)
He also sent his son with us for guide,
And thither come, receiv'd we were with joy.
Atrides of my coming ask'd the reason.
I told him all the truth. He answer'd then,
Oh ho, into the strong man's house by treason
Are entered many weak and heartless men;
As when a stag and hind, ent'ring the den
Of th' absent lion, lulls his whelps with tales
Of hills and dales, the lion comes agen
And tears them into pieces with his nails;
So shall Ulysses all these rascals slay.
Oh ! that the Gods Apollo, Pallas, Jove,
Amongst the suitors bring him would one day,
Such as when with Philomelide he strove,
And threw him flat, and made the Argives glad.
If such, Ulysses once amongst them were,
Short would their lives be, and their wedding bed.
But of the matter whereof you inquire,
On my knowledge I can nothing say,
Nor will with rash conjectures you beguile.
I told was, with Calypso he doth stay,
(By Proteus, an old sea-God,) in an isle,
And would come home, but wants both ship and men
To pass him o'er the broad back of the main.
This said, we took our leaves; a fair gale then
Quickly convey'd us o'er the liquid plain.
After Telemachus had spoken thus,
Penelope her heart was ill at ease.
And then spake to her Theoclymenus:
Wife of Ulysses Laertiades,
This man, said he, knows not; hear met for I
Jove's mind foresee. Jove first, and then the ghost
That takes the care of this bless'd family,
And dwelling in it doth maintain the roast,
You know Ulysses is now in this isle,
Sitting or creeping, and observes these wooers,
What evil deeds they do; and he the while
The destiny contriveth of the doers.
I saw the same at sea by augury,
And said unto Telemachus no less.
Oh ! that the Gods would make it true, said she,
I'd so reward you that men should you bless.
While they together thus within discourse,
The suitors were gone out to throw the stone
And darts upon the green before the doors,
As they at other times before had done.
Now supper-time drew near. Sheep home were brought
From ev'ry field. Then Medon to them spake,
Who 'mongst the suitors had most favours got;
Come in, says he, and care of supper take,
For of these games, I see you have your fill.
In supping early damage there is none.
Agreed they were; none thought the motion ill.
They then into the hall went every one.
On couches and on chairs their cloaks they throw.
Great sheep, fat goats enough they sacrifice,
And franked swine, and from the herd a cow.
Meanwhile, Eumaeus to the city hies,
Ulysses with him, to whom thus he said:
Come, father, let us to the city go,
Since 'tis my master's will. You should have staid,
If my advice you would have harkened to.
But the commands of masters are severe;
The time o' th' day already is much spent,
And though it will be late ere we be there,
I fear, ere it be night you will repent.
And then Ulysses to Eumaeus said:
I hear, I understand, I pray go on.
Only of rugged way I am afraid;
Give me a good strong staff to lean upon.
Then on his shoulder he his scrip did throw;
Given he had a great staff to his mind,
And they two to the town together go,
Leaving the swincherds and the dogs behind.
Ulysses like a beggar old and lame,
And all his raiment ragged was and wretched.
But when they near unto the fountain came
From which the citizens their water fetched,
The fountain sweetly streaming and well made
B' Ithacus Neritus, Polector, kings,
That flieth from a high and chilling shade,
Where in a poplar grove arise the springs,
And there an altar is, and on the same
The passengers to th' nymphs pay offerings.
When we were there, Melanthus to us came,
And goats, the fattest of his herds, he brings.
Whither now goest thou with this beggar here?
This trouble-feast, who begging scraps and snuffs,
Not swords and kettles, many blows shall bear
Of flying footstools, and get many cuffs.
Would thou wouldst give him me, my lodge to keep,
And lead my goats afield with a green bough,
And live on whey, and my goat houses sweep,
And his great knee unto to such service bow.
But hang him, he has such a custom got
Of idleness, with begging of his food,
That labour for his living he will not.
But this I tell you, and'twill be made good:
When he within Ulysses' house appears,
Many a footstool in the hall will fly
From out the suitors' hands about his ears.
This said, he pass'd, and kick'd him going by;
Ulysses still stood firm upon the path,
Thinking to strike him with his great staff dead,
Or otherwise to kill him in his wrath.
But in the end his wrath he conquered.
Eumaeus then held up his hands and prayed:
Nymphs of these fountains, daughters of great Jove,
If the fat gifts here by Ulysses laid
Upon your altars were receiv'd with love,
Grant that he may come safely home again,
By some good spirit to his house conveyed.
Then, (to Melantheus said he,) all in vain
Will be your triumph, and your pride allay'd,
Wherewith you to the suitors daily go;
And knaves remain the cattle to abate.
Then said Melantheus again, O ho!
How boldly does this dog, this rascal prate!
Whom one day I shall from hence ship away,
And make of him somewhere abroad good gain.
Would th' wooers, or Phœbus, but as surely slay
The son, as 'tis t' expect his father vain.
When this was said, away he went apace,
And coming to the suitors in the hall,
Against Eurymachus he took his place,
Whom best he loved of the suitors all.
And there the waiters set before him meat;
The women of the pantry brought him bread.
Ulysses and Eumaeus were not yet
Arriv'd, but near, for close they followed,
And of the fiddle they could hear the din.
Ulysses said unto Eumaeus then:
'Tis a fine house Ulysses dwelled in,
And easly known from those of other men;
The court with wall and hedge is fenced strong,
Having strong gates with two locks, great and fast.
Some feast here is; I hear the sound of song,
And fiddle, which with feast the Gods have plac'd.
Then answered Eumaeus, 'Tis well guess'd,
And other things you mark as well as this.
But let us now consider what is best,
In that which at this time our business is.
Go you in first, and put yourself among
The suitors; or if you think better so,
I'll first go in, but do not you stay long,
Lest you of one or other take a blow.
I hear, I understand; go you in first;
The seas and wars have taught me patience.
Of all my suff'rings this is not the worst.
Of blows and throws I have experience;
And may the suitors henceforth have the same.
The belly forceth mortals to much woe;
But there is no force can the belly tame.
It sets the good ship on the sea to go,
Which t' one another evil fortune bears.
While they discoursed thus before the door,
Ulysses dog held up his head and ears,
Argus by name, that had been long before
Well look'd to, ere Ulysses went to Troy.
They with him cours'd the wild goat, deer, and hare;
But all the while his master was away,
The servants of his keeping took no care,
But on the dung before the door he lay,
Which there was heap'd to manure fields and leas,
From many mules and cattle fal'n away.
There lay the old dog Argus, full of fleas;
And, as Ulysses near was, couch'd his ears,
And fawned with his tail, but could not rise;
And which Eumaeus did not see, the tears
Ready to fall were from Ulysses' eyes.
And then Ulysses to Eumaeus said:
This is a very well-shap'd dog I see,
'Tis strange to see him on a dunghill laid.
I know not whether also swift he be,
Or for his beauty only was he fed,
As lords make much of dogs for being fine,
And at their tables see them cherished.
Then answered the master of the swine:
The master of him is of life bereft.
If now he were the same for shape and deed
He then was when Ulysses here him left,
You'd quickly see he had both strength and speed.
There was no beast he once saw in the wood
That could escape him; for not only swift,
But also at a scent was very good:
But now himself scarce able is to lift;
For why, his master being dead and gone,
He was not left unto the woman's care;
And when the master is not looking on,
Men-servants of their duty careless are.
For half the virtue taken is away
Of whosoever is to service tied.
This said, into the house he went his way;
And Argus, having seen his master, died.
Telemachus, the first that saw him enter,
Unto him nodded to come to his seat.
A chopping-board was near him by adventure;
He took up that, whereon to eat his meat;
And near Telemachus he placed the same.
A waiter sets before him flesh and bread.
And after him Ulysses also came,
Like an old beggar, torn and tattered;
And said to Eumaeus, Give the beggar this,
And bid him go and try the charity
Of all the rest; and tell him hurtful 'tis
For beggars to have too much modesty.
Eumaeus then straight went unto the guest,
And said: Telemachus doth give you this,
And bids you try your fortune with the rest,
For modesty to beggars hurtful is.
And then Ulysses to Eumaeus says:
God bless Telemachus, and make him great,
And always grant him that for which he prays.
And then with both his hands receiv'd his meat.
And as the fiddle with the feast gives o'er,
Ulysses when he eaten had his meat,
Sate quiet on the sill and said no more.
But still amongst the woo'rs the noise was great.
Then Pallas comes and stands Ulysses by,
And bids him try the suitors as they sat,
Which of them had, which wanted charity,
Though they the same men would be for all that.
Then rising up, before the first he stands,
And to the right hand onward still he goes
To every one, and holds up both his hands,
Like one that well the art of begging knows.
They gave him meat, and wonder'd at the man';
And one another ask'd, Who is't? and whence?
And then Melantheus to speak began:
I saw him, said he, but a little since
Brought hither by the master of the swine.
But who he is, his kindred, and his place,
It is not in my power to divine.
This said, Antinous in choler was.
Oh, noble master of the swine, said he,
What made you here to introduce this guest ?
Think you that yet too few the beggars be,
That you must needs invite this trouble-feast,
Your lord's estate the sooner to eat up ?
Good as you are, says he, you say not right:
No man a stranger e'er call'd in to sup,
And him on no acquaintance did invite,
Unless he were a man that most men need,
Prophet, physician, or armourer,
Or fiddler at a feast; for when men feed
A song doth add delight unto the cheer.
These use to be invited ev*ry where.
Whoever call'd a beggar in to eat ?
But to the servants you still cruel were,
And of them all you me the worst did treat.
But I care little whilst Penelope
Alive is, and Telemachus, her son.
Telemachus then bad him silent be.
Eumaeus, said he, let him now alone;
He loves to quarrel, and set others on.
Then to Antinous he tum'd and spake,
Is this as from a father to his son,
To bid me make my guest my house forsake ?
I'll never do't. Give him what alms you will,
Nor shall my mother, nor I, nor any man,
Nor woman that here dwelleth, take it ill.
But eat than give, it seems you better can.
Then said Antinous: These words are great,
And passionate, but spoken without need.
If thus we all go on to give him meat,
He may himself three months together feed.
This said, his footstool to his foot he drew.
Ulysses with his scrip went to the sill,
For it was full, meaning to beg anew.
And first he tries Antinous his will.
Give a poor stranger, says he; you appear
Amongst th' Achaeans here to be the best;
For like a king you look, and reason 'twere
You should in bounty exceed all the rest,
And I abroad your goodness will make known.
I could for riches once with most compare,
And kept a great and free house of my own,
And ask'd what want you, man, not what you are.
And many servants had, and things that pass
For happiness amongst us mortals all,
Till t' Egypt I by knaves persuaded was
To sail. I' th' Nile we let our anchors fall.
There I my fellows bid aboard to stay
And guard the ships ; and some to places high
I sent to watch. But mov'd by lucre, they
On plunder and on rapine had their eye.
The fields they waste, and kill the men, and make
Women and children captives. Then the cry
Arriving at the city, arms they take,
And next day early to the fields they hie,
With horse and foot. Then thundered the field,
Their armour lighten'd. My men frighted were.
Some taken and made slaves, some flying kill'd,
And all the rest ran scatter'd here and there.
To th' king of Cyprus I was made a gift,
Demetor by name, the king of Egypt's guest.
And to come hither thence, I made hard shift.
Then said Antinous : Stand off you're best.
What devil to molest us sent this rogue
Unmannerly, that with such impudence
To be,, presurneth here, and to eclogue ?
Stand off. Or ill at ease I'll send you hence.
They that have given have done foolishly,
And at another's cost been charitable.
No wonder in such superfluity.
Ulysses then retired from the table.
Oh, ho, said he, I had but little skill,
That from the aspect have inferred wit.
Not give, I see, a crum of salt you will
To a poor man that humbly asketh it.
Antinous at this enrag'd at the heart,
Look'd on Ulysses angerly, and said,
To part hence safely thou not likely art;
Since to my face thou dar'st me thus upbraid.
This said, he threw the footstool at his head,
Which touched his shoulder, but remov'd him not.
Then to the sill himself he rendered,
Shaking his head with vengeance in his thought.
Ulysses then unto the suitors spake.
A man, said he, not much is griev'd, a blow
In fighting for his kine or sheep to take;
But he did for his belly at me throw.
If any care the Gods of poor men have,
Antinous, before he married be,
Is like enough to go into his grave.
Antinous replies, Sit quietly
And eat your meat, lest taken by the heels
The servants bawl and drag you out o' th' gate,
Or use you worse, your tongue so runs on wheels.
At this the rest all discontented sate,
And one among the rest unto him said,
Antinous, it was unjustly done
To use a stranger so. The Gods, array'd
In poor men's habits, men's deeds look upon,
And notice take, who well does, and who ill.
Telemachus was grieved at the heart
For what was done, but did no tear distil,
But shook his head, and hoped to make them smart.
When what had pass'd was told Penelope,
Apollo strike him to the heart, said she.
If I my wish had, said Eurynome,
No suitor of them all the morn should see.
Then said Penelope again, 'Tis true,
They all be enemies, and mean us evil;
But he the fiercest is of all the crew,
And rageth in the house like any devil.
A stranger in distress comes to the door,
Whom want constrained had to beg his bread;
The rest all give him somewhat of their store,
But he a footstool throweth at his head.
While she thus and her women talking were,
Ulysses supping sat upon the sill.
I fain, said she, would have the beggar here.
Fetch him, Eumaeus, talk with him I will;
I'll ask him if Ulysses he has seen,
For many men and cities knoweth he.
Eumaeus then made answer to the queen ;
If once the suitors would but silent be,
You would be pleas'd his history to hear.
Three days and nights he staid with me an end;
And of his suff'rings much he told me there,
When new arriv'd; but came not to the end.
As when a man that knows the art of song,
Sings lovely words, with sweet and well-tun'd voice,
The man that hears him thinks not the time long;
So I, in his strange story did rejoice.
He said Ulysses was his father's guest,
In th' isle of Crete, where reigneth Minos' race.
Himself, he said, with many woes oppressed,
The fates, at last, him tumbled to this place.
And that he heard Ulysses is hard by,
And that into Thesprotia he's come,
Alive and well; enriched mightily
With treasure which he now is bringing home.
Then said Penelope: Go, call me hither
The beggar. I myself will ask him all:
And meanwhile let the suitors chat together
Where they think best, without or in the hall;
For merry they must be, since they feed here,
And their own corn and wine and cattle save,
And with our cattle make themselves good cheer,
And on our corn and wine no mercy have;
For such as was Ulysses here is none,
That should defend us from their injuries;
But were he hither come, he, and his son,
Would bring destruction on these enemies.
This said, it chanced Telemachus to sneeze.
She laugh'd, and for the beggar calls agen.
You see, Eumaeus, Jove with me agrees,
And certainly slain shall be all these men.
Go call the beggar, and say this from me,
If I find true what he shall to me say,
He shall with coat and vest rewarded be.
Eumseus to the beggar went his way;
And when he near him was, Father, said he,
Penelope desires to speak with you;
About Ulysses she inform'd would be,
And said, if she find all you say be true,
She clothe you will with a fair coat and vest,
Which you stand most in need of. But for food,
By begging in the town you'll get it best,
Where they relieve you will that shall think good.
Ulysses to Eumaeus answered:
Penelope I quickly can inform,
For he and I have jointly suffered.
But from the suitors I much fear a storm;
Their insolence is known up to the sky;
Just now a footstool one threw at my head,
When given him no cause at all had I,
Nor could I by her son be succoured.
Therefore entreat Penelope to stay
Until the sun be set and suitors gone,
And by the fire-side hear what I can say.
You see what woful garments I have on.
Then back Eumaeus went with his excuse,
And came without him to Penelope.
How now, said she, does he to come refuse ?
They that are bashful but ill beggars be.
Not so, O queen, said he, he is discreet;
He prays you stay till setting of the sun,
Fearing some danger from the wooers to meet;
And for you also then 'twill best be done.
I see, quoth she, the stranger wants not wit,
For in the world never so many men
Contriving mischief did together sit.
So said Penelope. Eumaeus then
Went down and put himself into the throng,
And to Telemachus said in his ear:
I have been absent from my swine too long;
I go, and to your care leave all things here,
And chiefly of your life to have a care ;
Many there are that bear you evil mind,
And how to take your life contriving are,
But may they first their own destruction find.
Then said Telemachus, And so 'twill be.
Farewell. But I advise you first to dine;
The bus'ness here leave to the Gods and me.
Then din'd he, and went back unto his swine,
Next morning with more victims to return.
And full he left the hall and court with men,
Who there themselves to song and dancing turn,
For less than half the day remained then.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XVIII.
The fighting at fists of Ulysses with Irus. His admonition to
THEN came a beggar to Ulysses' gate.
The man to see to was both great and tall,
Though but a lither fellow. Down he sate
Boldly within the porch before the hall.
He had a greedy gut, and named was
At first Arnaeus, then Irus; for he went
On errands oft, whenever there was cause.
The wooers' favour made him insolent;
This beggar thought to drive Ulysses thence.
Dost see those princes how they wink at me,
And by the heels would have me pluck thee hence?
Though to do that I should ashamed be.
Go from the door, old man, lest I should do it.
Up therefore quickly, and be gone; arise,
Before that with my fists I force you to it.
Ulysses frowning, nnswer'd in this wise:
Strange man, I neither do thee harm, nor say
Thee any ill. Here's room for thee and me.
I do not envy you the meat which they
Shall give you here, how much soe'er it be.
Envy not other men; I think you are
As well as I, a beggar; but forbear
To threaten me too much. You're best beware,
Old as I am, lest I your lips besmear
And breast with blood, and so have better room.
. For to Ulysses' house rm confident
Thou never wilt be able more to come.
This made the beggar more impatient;
O, says he, how the rascal prates! Twere well
To beat the rascal's teeth out, while his tongue
Thus runs on wheels, till to the ground they fell.
Let these see fight the old man with the young.
Whilst in great heat they quarrell'd at the door,
They by Antinous observed were,
Who, laughing, said: There never came before
Such sport to th' house. The beggars standing there
Will go to cuffs; I pray let's hold them to it.
Then up they start, and round about them stand.
There are o' th' fire good puddings full of suet,
Of these, let him that conquers lay his hand
On which he will; (so said Antinous);
And have the privilege, and none but he,
To beg within the porch before the house,
And of our talk at meat a hearer be.
The motion pleased; and then Ulysses spoke:
The match is hard, an old man 'gainst a younger;
Yet this my belly bids me undertake.
And I'm acquainted more with blows than hunger.
But I must first entreat you all to swear
Not to help Irus, nor a heavy hand
To lay on me, but both of us forbear,
And justly 'twixt us both as neuters stand.
When all had sworn, then said Telemachus,
Stranger, if thou dare combat with this man
None else shall do thee hurt. Antinous,
Eurymachus, and I, defend you can.
This said, Ulysses cover'd kept his gear,
But shew'd his shoulders wide, and his strong thighs.
His large breast and his brawny arms appear;
And Pallas standing by, enlarg'd his size.
At which the suitors greatly wondered,
And one unto another softly said,
Irus has pull'd an old house on his head.
And Irus then was mightily afraid;
But yet by force the servants brought him out,
His flesh still trembling on his limbs with fear.
Show not thyself a coward and a lout,
Nor fear a man worn out with many a year;
For if he get the better, thou shalt go
Unto king Takim, and there by his law
Thy nose and ears, and privy parts also,
Shall be cut off, and dogs shall eat them raw.
This made him quake more yet. Into the lists
They brought him so. Both ready were to fight.
Ulysses then thought how to use his fists,
Whether to beat him down or kill him quite;
But not t'offend the suitors, thought it best
To strike him gently. And when they were near
Irus did hit Ulysses on the breast;
Ulysses Irus struck just under th'ear.
He broke the bones, at's mouth the blood gush'd out.
He fell, squeak'd, shed his teeth. The suitors were
With laughter almost dead, that stood about.
Ulysses dragg'd him to the utter gate,
And set him to the hedge, as 'twere a sign,
And put a staff in's hand. As there he sate,
Ulysses bade him keep out dogs and swine.
Think not thyself, quoth he, of beggars king
(That art a very wretch) and wandering souls.
This said, o’er’s head he threw the twisted string
By which his scrip hung, ragg'd and full of holes.
Then sat him down i' th' porch. The suitors enter
All laughing in, and as they passed by
Greatly congratulated his adventure.
Stranger, said they, Jove and the Gods on high,
Grant thee whatever thou shalt most desire,
That hast relieved us from the rascal there.
We'll send him to king Takim in Epire.
And glad Ulysses was his praise to hear.
Antinous a haggas brought, filled up
With fat and blood, and to't Amphinomus
Two loaves of bread, and with't a gilded cup
Of lusty wine, and said unto him thus:
Hail, father, stranger, rich and happy be
As ere you were; though many miseries
Oppress you now.
He answer d him: I see
Amphinomus, you prudent are and wise;
So was your father. Nisus was his name,
Prince of Dulichium, both rich and wise.
You are his son, as I am told by fame;
Therefore I will a little you advise.
There's not a weaker creature lives o'th' ground,
Or goes, or creeps upon it, than a man;
Who whilst he's strong, and all his limbs are sound,
He makes account that fail he never can ;
But when the Gods shall have decreed him woe,
He less endures it than another can.
Such is the nature Jove has assigned to
This weak and short-liv'd creature called man.
For I myself was rich, and lived in
Great plenty, and was very insolent;
Bold on my strength, my father, and my kin,
Therefore let no man be too confident,
But rather quietly God's gifts enjoy.
These suitors here bring this into my mind,
Who of an absent man the goods destroy,
And that at last unto their cost they'll find.
For this I tell you (mark well what I say),
That he will soon, nay, very quickly come;
And that will be to some a heavy day.
Pray God that at his coming you keep home.
This said, he drank, and to Amphinomus
Returned the cup, who shook his head in vain;
For not long after by Telemachus
Amongst the rest of the wooers he was slain.
Then Pallas puts Penelope in mind
T' appear unto the wooers, that she might
Before her son and husband honour find,
And further bring the suitors' thoughts to light.
Penelope then laugh'd, not knowing why.
Eurynome, said she, my mind says, go
And show yourself before the company;
Which heretofore I never thought to do.
I hate them, yet I mean to go to th' door,
And bid my son their company to shun,
And mix himself with those ill men no more.
Dear child, said the old woman, 'tis well done.
Go tell him whatsoever you think fit,
But wash away the tears first from your eyes,
And 'noint your cheeks; they must sometimes remit
And hide their grief, that will be counted wise.
You have your wish, your son now is a man.
Penelope then answered her again;
Restored be my beauty never can:
'Nointing and washing now are all in vain.
The Gods, Eurynome, then took away
All beauty from me when Ulysses went
With Agamemnon to the siege of Troy;
Such words afford me now but small content.
Call Hippodamia and Autonoe;
For why, I am asham'd myself alone
Amongst so many men in sight to be:
They shall go with me, on each side me one.
But when th' old woman was gone out, and staid,
Then Pallas pour'd sweet sleep upon her eyes,
And on her face a greater beauty laid,
And also made her limbs of larger size,
And whiter than the purest ivory.
Having so done, the Goddess rose to th' skies.
Her maidens coming made a noise, and she
Awak'd, and with her hand she strok'd her eyes.
I've had, said she, a very gentle sleep;
O that Diana such a gentle death
Would send me presently, nor let me weep
My life out, nor with sorrow give me breath ;
Sorrow for my dear husband, best of all
The Grecian princes:
and that said, then down
She goes to th' porch before the door of th' hall
With her two maids; she would not go alone;
And so stood at the door within their sight,
But with her scarf her cheeks a little shaded.
A maid stood at her left hand and her right.
When she appeared Love all their hearts invaded.
Her speech then to Telemachus she addressed:
Telemachus, said she, your wit's less now
Than when you were a boy. 'Twas then at best;
And backward more and more it seems to grow.
You now are tall, and come to man's estate,
And counted are the best men's sons among.
Of your discretion you begin t' abate;
Why else dye let your stranger suffer wrong ?
If you your guests thus treat, what think you, can
Men say of you that's good or honourable ?
You'll be reproach'd and scorn'd of every man,
And taken for a man unhospitable.
Mother, said he, you well may angry be;
And yet I better know what's good and ill
Than heretofore. But these men hinder me;
I cannot without help do all I will.
The quarrel 'twixt my guest and Irus was
None of the suitors' act; by chance it rose,
As they sate begging, from some other cause,
And Irus only bare away the blows.
O Jupiter, I wish, and all the Gods,
That all your suitors were in Irus' case,
(Who yonder sits, like one that's drunk, and nods)
Either here right, or in some other place,
Unable to go home. Penelope
And her lov'd son so talk'd. And then
Eurymachus: If all the lords, said he,
Which now through Argos bear rule over men
Should see you now, more suitors you'd have here
(For you do far all woman-kind surpass)
And come betime to taste of your good cheer ;
None such for fair and prudent ever was.
No, no, said she; for when Ulysses went
With th' Argive princes to the war of Troy,
The immortal Gods took from me my content,
And with it all these ornaments away;
Were he come home that took a care of me,
I should more honour have and beauty so.
But now I lead my life in misery;
The Gods some evil on me daily throw.
My husband, when he parted hence to fight
For Agamemnon 'gainst the Trojans, laid
At taking leave on my left hand his right,
And all those words of counsel to me said :
Expect you cannot, wife, that we that go
Over the sea unto the siege of Troy
Shall all come safe away. The Trojans know
How t' use the dart and bow too, as men say,
And are good horsemen also, and can see
All their advantages in ranged field ;
Therefore I know not what my luck will be,
Either to come again, or to be kill'd.
My father and my mother I therefore
To you commend, to see them cherished,
As they are now, or (in my absence) more;
And when Telemachus is grown, then wed:
Take whom yourself like best, and leave this house.
This said, he parts. Ay me, the time is come
I must embrace a marriage odious,
And I must leave this my most blessed home.
Suitors were wont, when they a woman woo’d
Of noble parentage, to please her all
They could, and strive who most should do her good;
Mine daily eat and drink me up in th' hall.
This said, Ulysses was well pleas'd to see
His wife draw presents from them, and was glad,
And th' wooers by her over-reach'd to be
With her fine words, when other thoughts she had.
Then said Antinous: Penelope,
Fair and wise daughter of Icarius,
Receive whate’er by us shall offer’d be ;
It is not good, good presents to refuse ;
Yet, till you choose some one whom you think best
To be your husband, we resolve to stay,
And be each one of us your constant guest,
And never absent from your house a day.
And with Antinous they all agree,
Who her presented with a fair, large, rich
And divers coloured robe, with four times three
Buckles of pure and beaten gold, and which
As many clasps of gold had joined fit.
Eurymachus his present was a chain
Of gold and amber-beads alternate ; it
Shin'd bright as is the sun-shine after rain.
Eurydamas two pendants gave, of which
Each had three gems, and polished very bright,
And both for art and workmanship were rich,
Reflecting to the eye a lovely light.
Pysandrus, son of Polycterides,
Gave her a costly necklace. All the rest
With some good gift endeavoured to please
The fair and wise Penelope the best.
This done, unto her chamber up she went
With her two maids, that did her presents carry.
Th' woo'rs with dancing and with merriment,
(Their wonted pastime) for the ev'ning tarry.
The ev'ning came, and then the lamps were lighted,
And torches, and the fir-staves long lain dry,
Which to that purpose had with tools been fitted,
And ready lay to light the company.
The lights the maids took up by turns and bore them.
Then said Ulysses, Maidens, if you please,
To save your pains, I'll bear the light before them;
I'm us'd to labour, and can do't with ease,
Though they should stay and sit up till to-morrow:
You may go up unto the queen, and there
Sit and spin with her, and divert her sorrow.
At this the wenches 'gan to laugh and jeer;
And one of them, Melantho, him revil'd
With bitter words. Her father Dolius hight.
Penelope did treat her as her child,
And in her company did take delight;
But yet she could not put away her grief.
The wench was fair, and too familiar was
With prince Eurymachus, one of the chief
Of all her suitors. And this woman 'twas.
And thus she said: Sure, stranger, thou art mad,
That wilt not here nor elsewhere go to bed;
Is it because thou too much wine hast had ?
Or is't a humour in thy nature bred,
To prate so boldly in such company ?
Thy victory o'er Irus may perhaps
Have made thee wild; a better man than he
May chance to send thee hence with bloody chaps.
Ulysses, looking sourly, answered,
You bitch, Telemachus shall straightway know
These words; he'll cause thee to be tortured.
They, fearing he would do't, away they go.
Ulysses ready stood to take in hand
A torch when bidden ; casting in his mind
How he might safely carry on the grand
Mischief against the woo'rs he had design'd.
And Pallas yet not suffered them to keep
Themselves in any bounds of modesty,
But fix Ulysses' anger yet more deep.
Eurymachus then said to th' standers by,
To make them laugh, Ulysses to disgrace,
Hear, sirs, I pray, what now comes in my thought.
The man comes opportunely to this place;
'Tis sure some God that him has hither brought
To give us greater light; for from his head
Methinks I see arise another flame
Besides the flame the torch gives, and so spread
Upon his bald pate doubled has the same.
Then says t' Ulysses, Man, wilt thou serve me,
To pluck up thorns and briars, and trees to plant ?
Thou shalt have meat enough, and clothes, and fee,
And shoes, and whatsoever thou shalt want.
But, since thou hast been us'd to idleness,
I doubt thou ne'er wilt labour any more,
But rather feed thy carcass labourless,
And wand'ring choose to beg from door to door.
This said, Ulysses answer'd him again:
Eurymachus, if we two were to try
Our labour, in a large green meadow, when
The days are long, the weather hot and dry,
With equal scythes from morning unto night;
Or with two equal oxen fed and strong
Were fasting put to plough, to try our might
Which of us labour could endure most long;
Or if an enemy to-day should land,
And I a helmet had fit for my head,
And target, and two fit spears for my hand,
Then you should see whether I fought or fled,
And not reproach m' of sloth or poverty.
You are too cruel, and you do me wrong,
And think yourself a man of might to be,
Because they weaker are you live among.
But should Ulysses come and find you here,
You'd think the door, though it be very wide,
As you are running out, too narrow were,
So glad you'ld be your heads to save or hide.
To this Eurymachus with bended brow,
And furious eye, answer'd, Wretch that thou art,
And dar'st so saucily to prate. How now !
'Twill not be long before I make thee smart.
Is it because thou too much wine hast had ?
Or is't thy nature always to be bold ?
Or is't t' have beaten Irus makes thee mad ?
This said, upon a footstool he laid hold,
And threw it at him, but it hit him not.
Ulysses sunk on's knees, the stool flew o'er
His head, and a cup-bearer next him smote
On the right hand, and down he falls o' th' floor.
Much the disorder then was in the room.
And one unto another next him said,
I would this beggar hither had not come,
But somewhere else before had perished.
For what ado about a beggar's here !
The pleasure of our dinner all is lost.
Then, said Telemachus, Can you not bear,
Madmen, your wine and cheer both boil'd and roast ?
When fill'd, why do you not go home and sleep ?
Go when you will, I drive you not away.
The suitors at this boldness bit the lip,
And thought it strange, but yet did nothing say.
Then, said Amphinomus, Let's not fall out
With any man for speaking truth, nor be
Rude and unkind. Cup-bearers, bear about
To every man the cup of charity;
And so go each man home, for now 'tis late
(Leaving the stranger with Telemachus,
Whose guest he is), and ourselves recreate
With gentle sleep, each one in his own house.
Then Meleus to each man presents a cup,
Whereof unto the Gods they offer'd part.
When this was done each one his wine drank up,
And then unto their houses they depart.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XIX.
Telemachus removes the arms out of the hall.
ULYSSES in the house remained, and staid
Contriving how the suitors to destroy.
And staightway to Telemachus he said,
Carry the armour in the hall away;
And tell them gently, if they ask wherefore,
The fire has hurt them, and they are not now
Such as Ulysses left them heretofore,
When with the Greeks he did to Ilium go:
Or say, For fear some quarrel might arise
By th' indiscretion of one or other,
You thought the counsel would not be unwise
To take them thence. One drawn sword draws another.
Telemachus then calls his nurse, and said,
Euryclea, shut all the rooms up fast.
Be sure to keep within door every maid,
Till I my father's arms have elsewhere placed;
The smoke does spoil them all; but I will now
Free them from soot. I'm glad, said she, at last
To see your husbandry. But I would know
Who 'tis shall light you when the maids are fast?
My guest, says he, this stranger whom you see.
For here he feeds, and nothing has to do;
How far soever hence his dwelling be,
I think 'tis reason he should help me too.
The nurse did what commanded she had been.
They laid up helmets, bucklers, swords, and spears;
And Pallas with a lamp came in unseen,
And up and down the light before them bears.
Then, Father, said Telemachus, I see
The walls, beams, roof, and all the pillars shine,
Like any fire; and certainly there be
Within the house some of the powers divine.
Peace, said Ulysses, be not curious,
The purpose of the Gods you cannot find.
Go you to bed. I must go through the house,
To find the women's and your mother's mind.
Telemachus then to his chamber went,
In which before he wonted was to lie,
Leaving his father in the house, intent
On how, with Pallas, to make th' wooers die.
Forth comes Penelope into the hall,
More than Diana, more than Venus fair;
Her maids upon her were attending all,
And set down for her a most stately chair,
Made by Icmalius of silver plate,
And iv'ry turned, white as any snow,
And footstool thereto fix'd. And there in state
Sat down the fair Penelope ; and now
The housemaids enter in and take away
The tables, and the bowls, the cups, and bread,
Which (the wooers gone) about the room still lay
And having made a fire, there went to bed.
Melantho then Ulysses bitterly
Rebuk’d again. Art thou here, said she, still,
To peep at th' women in the night, and spy
What they are doing ? an't, may be, hast the will
To stay all night. Go quickly; get thee gone;
T'hast supp'd; lest thou be driven out of door
With brands of fire. To this new insolence,
Ulysses answered gentlier than before:
Why d' ye pursue me thus ? Is it because
I am not fine, but have ill raiment on ?
The time has been I rich and wealthy was,
And beggars I did much bestow upon;
Not looking on the men, but on their want:
And many servants had. Of that which makes
Men called rich, I knew not any scant.
But Jove not only riches gives, but takes;
Think, therefore, that your beauty will decay;
Or of your mistress you may lose the grace;
Or that Ulysses may come back one day:
And though he ne'er return unto his place,
His son, Telemachus, knows all you do,
Knows better now what 's good, and what is worse.
Then be hereafter modester: go to.
Penelope o'erheard all this discourse.
Bold bitch, said she, I know what deeds you* ve done,
Which thou shalt one day pay for with thy head:
Did not I tell thee when the woo'rs were gone,
That I to speak with him had ordered ?
Eurynome, I've much to say, said she,
Unto this man; set here a chair, that so,
Sitting, I may hear him, and he hear me;
For there are many things I'd from him know.
Ulysses sat. Penelope began:
The question I will ask you first, is this;
What is your name, and who your parents be;
And, further, tell me where your country is?
When she had said, Ulysses thus replies:
O queen, through all the world your praises ring,
Your virtues known are up unto the skies;
No less than of some great and happy king,
That maintains justice, and whose fertile ground
Bears store of wheat and barley, and whose trees
Are charg'd with fruit, and all his sheep stand sound,
And under him a valiant people sees.
And, therefore, ask me what you will beside,
My kin and country to myself I'd keep.
For then my grief I can no longer hide,
Or think thereon, but ready am to weep;
Which here would be no seemly thing to do,
For why, your maids might, peradventure, think,
And you yourself, it may be, think so too,
My tears came not from sorrow, but from drink.
Stranger, said she, my beauty, form, and worth,
Th immortal Gods took from me then away,
When first Ulysses with the Greeks went forth
To that abominable town of Troy;
But were he here that had the care of me,
I should more honour have, and beauty so.
But now I lead my life in misery;
The Gods upon me troubles daily throw.
For all the lords that in these islands be,
Same, Dulichium, and woody Zant,
And Ithaca itself, suitors to me,
My house continually together haunt,
And there devour my cattle, corn, and wine;
So that of strangers I can take no care,
Nor can myself dispose of what is mine,
Nor messengers receive that public are;
But, longing for my husband, sit and pine.
They press for marriage, I, to put it by.
Then came into my thought (some power divine.
Sure prompt'd me) to set up a beam;
A beam set up, and then began to weave.
Suitors, said I, since dead Ulysses is,
Stay yet a little while, and give me leave
To make an end but of one business.
I must for old Laertes make a cloth,
Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.
T'offend the wives of Greece I should be loath ;
For, to accuse me they will not forbear.
They'll say I very hasty was to wed,
If I go hence and not provide a shroud
Wherein Laertes must be buried,
Out of his wealth; that might have been allowed.
My suitors all were well content. And then,
All day I wove; but ere I went to bed,
What I had wov'n I ravel'd out agen.
Three years my suitors I thus frustrated.
In the fourth year my women me betray'd;
And in they came while I the web undid.
I could the wedding now no more avoid,
But I was rated by them much and chid.
What I am next to do, I cannot tell:
My father and my mother bid me marry;
My son is weary, and takes not very well
That th' woo'rs devouring him should longer tarry.
But for all this, I long to know your stock,
For sure you come not of the fabled oak,
Nor are, I think, descended from a rock.
To this Ulysses answering thus spoke:
Wife of Ulysses, since you so much press
To know my kindred, and from whence I come,
Although the telling grieve me, I'll confess,
For I have now long absent been from home.
In the wide sea a fertile island lies,
Innumerable therein are the men,
Creta by name. Many diversities
There are of tongues; and cities nine times ten.
There dwell Achaeans and Cydonians,
And ancient true Creatans, Tribachichs,
And also Dorichs and Pelasgians,
Who divers dialects together mix.
And Cnossus the prime city was of these,
Where Minos reigned; the great Minos that,
Who often used with great Chronides
Familiarly of old to sit and chat;
Minos my father's father was, and he
Deucalion begot; Deucalion
First got Idomeneus, and then got me.
He went to Troy. My name is Aithon.
There 'twas I saw Ulysses. He came in
As he went homeward, and with much ado
T' Amphisus; for by winds he forced had been
This place, though no good port, to put into.
Then straight went up, Idomeneus to see,
With whom he had acquaintanace, as he said.
'Twas ten days after that, or more, that he
For Troy, with th' other Greeks, his anchors weigh'd.
I entertained him kindly with my own;
Gave him a handsome present too, and then
I made him to be feasted by the town,
Upon the public charge, himself and men.
Twelve days the wind continued at north,
Which kept the fleet perforce within the bay;
On the thirteenth th' wind changed, and came south,
And then they set up sail and steer'd for Troy.
'Twas so like truth, she wept. As when the sun
Dissolving is the snow upon a hill,
Innumerable streams of water run,
And the low rivers of the valley fill:
So wept she for her husband sitting by;
Who grieved and pitied her, but never wept;
As hard us horn or iron was his eye,
And by design himself from tears he kept.
After with weeping she was satisfied,
Stranger, said she, I'll ask you somewhat now,
By which most certainly it will be tried,
If you my husband, as you say, did know,
Or entertain'd him and his company.
What kind of person was he, and how clad ?
How serv'd? To this Ulysses made reply:
Though twenty year ago it be, and bad
My memory; yet, what I can recall
I will relate; he wore a purple vest,
Unshorn and lin'd. Before, embroider'd all,
Two clasps of gold; and in it was exprest
A hound, that did between his forefeet hold
A fawn, that sprall'd and labour'd to get free;
Which was so lively done, and all in gold
Performed was, that wonder 'twas to see.
His coat I mark'd, so soft it was and fine,
As is the fold of a dry onion;
And as the sun, did gloriously shine,
And women gaz'd upon him many a one.
Such were his garments, but I know not whence
lIe had them. You know better that than I;
Whether he so apparell'd went from hence,
Presented by some of his company,
Or given to him somewhere by some guest;
For he was much beloved far and near,
And of the Achaeans all esteemed the best;
Amongst the Greeks he hardly had his peer.
And I him gave a purple double vest,
A sword, and coat edged with fringes trim,
And brought him to his ship. Amongst the rest
A herald was; and I'll describe you him.
Round shoulder'd was he, curled was his hair,
Swarthy his face, Eurybates his name.
Ulysses to him much respect did bear,
Because their thoughts for most part were the same.
When he had done, she could no longer hold,
But wept again, and sorer than before;
For she found true the tokens he had told.
But when this show'r of tears was passed o'er,
Stranger, said she, I pitied you before;
Now as a friend you shall respected be;
'Twas I gave him th' apparel he then wore,
And the gold buckles to remember me;
But I shall never see him more at home;
In an unlucky hour he cross'd the main
To that accursed town of Ilium.
Then thus Ulysses answered her again:
O noble wife of Laertiades,
Blemish no more those your fair eyes with tears
For your Ulysses; set your heart at ease.
Not that your sorrow as a fault appears.
What woman that her husband of her youth,
And to whom children she had borne, had lost,
Could choose but grieve and weep, although in truth
.Sie could not of his virtue greatly boast?
But that you would give ear to what I say;
I say Ulysses is not far from home;
He's in Thesprotia, hence a little way,
Alive, enrich'd with presents he is come;
His ship and men all perish'd in the main,
Then when he left the isle Thrinacie;
Because Sol's sacred kine his men had slain,
Hurled they were by Jove into the sea;
Ulysses only scap'd; for sitting fast
Upon the torn-off rudder by the waves,
After much labour came to land at last
In th' isle Phœacia; there his life he saves.
Much honour there and precious gifts he got.
They ready were to have convey'd him home
Safely to Ithaca, but he would not;
Else long ago he might have hither come.
But he thought best to travel longer yet,
And pick up presents which way e'er he went,
Before his going home much wealth to get;
For at designing he was excellent.
Phidon himself, king of Thesprotia,
Swore to me this; and that both ship and men
Were ready to convey him t' Ithaca,
His country; but he could not stay till then;
For now a vessel ready to set forth
Stood for Dulichium. But he show'd me all
Ulysses' treasure, which might serve, for worth,
Ten ages to maintain a man withal.
But he, he said, was gone o'er to the main,
There at Dodona with Jove's oak t' advise
How to return to Ithaca again;
As he was openly, or in disguise;
So then he's safe, and soon he will be here;
He cannot from his house be long away.
And, which is more, I will not doubt to swear,
And witness call the Gods to what I say.
Hear, Jove, of Gods the best and high'st, and thou
The guardian of the house that we are in:
Ulysses shall come to this place you know,
Ere this month end, or when the next comes in.
Penelope then answer'd : Stranger, oh
That this would so fall out, you then should see
Such friendship from me, and such gifts also,
That men should bless, and say you happy be.
But, maids, go wash his feet, and make his bed,
Lay on warm rugs, and handsome covering,
His limbs to cherish till the day be spread.
Then wash and 'noint him that my son may bring
And set him in the hall at dinner by him;
For he that wrongs him shall not be allow'd
To come into my house another time,
How angry at it e'er he be and proud.
Stranger, by this I mean to let you see
1 better know how to entertain my guest
Than many women do, though poor he be,
Far from his home, and in vile garments dress'd.
To this Ulysses answered her again,
O noble wife of Laertiades,
Since I left Crete, on ship-board I have lain,
Soft and fine bedding give me little ease;
Many a night have I passed without sleep,
And often slept have on a homely couch.
The custom I have so long kept I'll keep;
Nor shall your maidens my feet wash or touch,
Such as wait on you; but if there be any
Old women here that hath endured much,
As I have done, and years have lived many,
I am content my feet be wash'd by such.
Then said Penelope, Ne'er man came here
Within my house from foreign country yet
So prudent as you are, whose answers were
To every thing so wise and so discreet.
There is a woman such as you desire,
That nurs'd and brought up that afflicted man;
Though she be very weak, she'll make a fire,
And wash your feet, but nothing else do can.
Rise, Euryclea, wash the feet of one
That's like your lord. Such feet and hands were his,
Woe makes men old, as well as years that run.
So said Penelope; and th' old woman ris,
And weeping held her hand before her eyes.
O my dear child, O Jupiter unkind!
Who more devout, who burnt to him more thighs,
Or fatter, or doth lesser favour find?
He pray'd to live so long that he might see,
Painless, the education of his child
Telemachus, but granted 'twill not be.
He now perhaps is where he is revil'd
And mock'd by women in some great man's hall,
As thou, O stranger, hast been scorned here;
And wilt not suffer any of them all
Either thy feet to wash or to come near.
I'll wash your feet, as I am bidden by
Penelope, and for your own sake too.
It is not her command alone. There lie
Thoughts on my heart that urge me thereunto.
Poor passengers come hither very many,
But one so like Ulysses never came;
For person, voice, and feet, I never saw any
Come to this house that had so near the same.
Ulysses answered, Woman, so they say
All that have seen us both. It may be so.
She with her kettle bright then went her way
For water, wherewithal her work to do.
Cold water she brings in, and pours on't hot.
Ulysses sat by the fire, but turned that thigh
That had the scar, to the dark, that she mightn ot
Find it, and force him to appear openly.
She was not long about him when she spied
The scar a boar had made above his knee
When he was hunting on Parnassus' side,
At's grandsires, in his uncle's company.
His grandsire was Autolycus, that was
His mother's father, named Anticlia;
He in hermetic arts did most suppass;
And to his daughter came to Ithaca,
That newly of a son was brought to bed.
Euryclea laid the child upon his knee.
Autolycus, you are to give, she said,
Thename; how shall it named be?
Then said Autolycus, Since I of many,
Both men and women, have incurr'd the blame,
A fitter name I cannot think on any;
Therefore, I say, Ulysses be his name;
And when he's grown a man send him to me,
To Mount Parnassus; whither if he come,
He shall of what I have partaker be,
And from me go not ill-contented home.
And this the cause was that he thither went.
Autolycus and's sons there take Ulysses
By th' hand, expressing very great content.
Antithea, his grannam, his head kisses,
And both his eyes. Autolycus appoints
His sons to have the supper very good.
A bullock fat they kill, slay, cut in joints,
Roast, and in messes distribute the food;
And so they feasted till the day was done;
And when 'twas dark parted and went to sleep.
But when Aurora had proclaimed the sun,
Which ready was above the hill to peep,
Then to Parnassus up the hunters go,
The hounds before went searching out the see
Autolycus his sons were there also,
Ulysses with them; next the dogs he went,
And in his hand shook a long-shaded spear;
The dogs drew toward a wood; so close it was
That neither rain nor wind e'er enter'd there,
Nor yet the beams o'th' sun could through it pass,
And heaps of witber'd leaves there lay therein.
Within this thicket lay a mighty boar;
Only the noise of hounds and men came in.
When they were very near, and not before,
The boar rush'd out, and fire was in his eye;
Bristled his neck. Ulysses ready was.
The boar first wounded had Ulysses' thigh;
The spear did through the boar's right shoulder pass.
Slain was the boar.
And of Ulysses' wound
His uncles took the care, and skilfully
They caus'd it to be closed up and bound,
And with a charm the blood stopp'd presently.
His wound soon cured, very glad they were,
And him with many gifts sent glad away.
At home they ask, and he relateth there
The story of the hunting of that day.
Euryclea on the wound had laid her hand,
And well assured was 'twas none but he,
Which made the water in her eyes to stand;
And now her joy and grief one passion be.
Her speech stuck in her throat; her hand lets fall
Her master's foot; that down the kettle threw;
The water runneth out about the hall;
And knowing now what she but thought was true:
You are Ulysses, said she, O my dear,
And tow'rd Penelope she look'd aside,
As if she meant to say, Your husband's here.
But Pallas, that did mean the truth to hide,
Still made the queen to look another way,
And he with one hand stopp'd the nurse's breath,
With th' other held her fast to make her stay.
Why, nurse, said he, mean you to be my death?
Since at your breast I nourished have been,
And none but you knows me in this disguise;
These twenty years I here was never seen.
Let none else know it in the house. Be wise;
For this I tell you, and will make it true,
That of the women some I mean to slay,
When by my hand the Gods the woo'rs subdue;
If you bewray me, you shall fare as they.
Then said Euryclea, What needeth this?
You know my heart can hold like stone or brass;
And who is honest, who dishonest is,
I'll tell you, if your purpose come to pass.
No, nurse, then said Ulysses, tell not me;
You need not; I shall know them every one.
Permit all to the Gods, and silent be;
For they best know what best is to be done.
Then out she went more water to fetch in,
The first being spilt. He wash'd and 'nointed was.
And covered the place where th' wound had been.
And nearer to the fire his chair he draws.
Then to them came Penelope, and said,
Stranger, I'll ask you but a little more;
'Tis almost bed-time, and when we are laid,
Our grief in gentle sleep is passed o'er.
But all the day my tears are my delight,
Or of my women's work the care I take;
And after I am gone to bed at night
A thousand dismal thoughts keep me awake;
As Philomela, sitting in a tree,
Mourns with a lamentable voice and shrill,
For Itylus, and turneth restlessly,
(Whom Zethus' son did by misfortune kill):
Just so my mind divided is in twain:
Whether to keep my servants with my son,
And my dear husband's bed, and here remain,
Or marry one o' th' suitors and be gone.
To marry and be gone I could not yet;
My son too young was yet to rule th'estate;
And now, grown up, it makes him vex and fret
To see them daily feast within his gate.
I'll tell you now a dream; expound it you :
I've twenty geese feeding i'th' yard without;
A mighty eagle from the hills down flew
And break their necks; dead they lay all about.
The eagle straightway mounted out of sight.
I dreaming wept; to see them at the trough,
Feeding on steeped wheat, I took delight;
And to bemoan me ladies came enough.
And then methought the eagle came again,
And on a beam which through the wall did start,
He sat; and said, in human language plain,
Child of Icarius, trouble not your heart;
The thing you see is real, not a dream;
The geese the wooers, I the eagle was,
And now returned and sitting on the beam;
I am your husband, and will bring to pass
The death of all your suitors. Then wak'd I,
And went into the court my geese to see,
And found them all there feeding heartily,
Unhurt, and well as they were wont to be.
Woman, then said Ulysses, no man can
Expound this dream but as himself has done,
That says and does. Ulysses is the man.
The suitors will be killed every one.
Then said Penelope, Dreams are without
Such order as to make a judgment by;
And at two gates, men say, they issue out,
The one of horn, th' other of ivory;
Those that pass through the horn, to men of skill,
Never say anything but what is sooth;
But find a word of truth you never will
In those that come through th' Elephantine tooth.
But I much fear that my dream came this way;
For I have promised to quit this place,
And come already is th' unlucky day
That must determine who shall gain my grace.
Twelve axes here Ulysses set arow,
Like twelve boats laid along upon their sides,
And at a distance standing with his bow,
Through ev'ry one of them his arrow glides.
And this shall to my suitors be the prize.
He that most easily shall bend the bow,
And through the axes all his arrow flies,
Leaving this blessed house with him I'll go.
Then said Ulysses, Let the suitors try
If they can bend the bow, and thorough shoot
Through th' axes if they can, for sure am I,
Ulysses will be here before they do't.
Stranger, said she, whilst you discourse, my eyes
To sleep will never be inclined; but since
The force of nature on all mortals lies,
I up into my chamber will go hence;
There is my bed, wash'd nightly with my tears,
Since first Ulysses went to cursed Troy,
Wailing my husband's absence, wak'd with fears;
And yours in what part of the house you'll say.
This said, unto her chamber up she went,
And with her all her maids. And there she lies.
And for her husband did afresh lament,
Till Pallas threw a sweet sleep on her eyes.
ODYSSEY.
LID. XX.
Pallas and Ulysses consult or the killing of the wooers.
ULYSSES in the court lay out adoors
On a cow-hide; and on him skins of sheep
New kill'd and sacrificed by the woo'rs.
There lay he, but he could not fall asleep.
Eurynome a rug laid on him too.
Out came the maids that wont were to commit
With the proud wooers, giggling and laughing so,
And pleasing one another with their wit,
As made Ulysses in his mind to cast
Whether to start up quick and kill them all,
Or let them now go on and take their last
Farewell of those they had to do withal;
As when a bitch stands by her whelps, and spies
A stranger coming near, will bark and grin,
So at this sight of their debaucheries
Ulysses' heart, provoked, bark'd within.
. Hold, heart, said he; when Cyclops eat my men,
Thou didst endure till counsel set thee free;
The danger now is less. Hold out again.
And so it did, though he lay restlessly.
As one that has raw flesh upon the fire,
And hungry is, is ever turning it;
So turneth he himself, with great desire
'Gainst th' wooers to devise some mischief fit.
Then Pallas came, and standing at his head
In woman's shape, O wretched man, said she,
What makes you toss and turn so in your bed ?
The house is yours, your wife and son here be.
Then said Ulysses, I was casting how
I might alone these suitors insolent,
That always here are many, overthrow ;
And if I kill them, then again invent
How to escape and save myself by flight.
To this the Goddess answered, and said,
Another man would trust a meaner wight,
Though mortal, and rely upon his aid:
But I a God immortal am, and say,
Though fifty bands of men should us oppose,
You should their herds of cattle drive away.
Enjoy securely, therefore, your repose ;
A torment 'tis to watch all night, to one
That is already drench'd in misery.
Sleep then. This said, sweet sleep she threw upon
His eyes, and from him mounted to the sky.
And now Penelope awak'd, and sat
On her bed weeping. Having wept her fill,
She to Diana pray'd, and said, O that
You would now shoot your arrow and me kill;
Or that some great wind me away might bear,
And o'er a rock throw me into the main,
Ne'er to be heard of, or as th' daughters were
Of Pandareus, whose parents both were slain
By th' Gods; but Venus the orphans nourished
With butter, and with honey, and with wine.
Juno with form and wit them furnished;
Diana gave them stature; artifice divine
Pallas them taught; then Venus went to Jove
To get them husbands; for best knoweth he
The issue of conjunctions in love,
Whether for better or for worse they be,
While Venus absent was on that affair,
By harpies foul away they carried be,
And giv'n for slaves to th' furies in the air.
Oh that the Gods would so dispose of me;
Or else Diana send me under ground,
That I may with Ulysses be, and not
To please another meaner man be bound.
Grief all day long is but a woeful lot,
And sleep is some amends; but unto me
It evil dreams along with it doth bring.
This night, my husband seem'd i' th'bed to be;
No dream I thought it, but a real thing.
This said, the morning fringed had the sky;
Ulysses, musing, lay upon his bed
With closed eyes, and thought she certainly
Knew who he was, and stood at his bed's head.
Then rose he, and his sheep skins bare away,
And rug into the house; but the cow-hide
He carried out, and then to Jove did pray:
Hear, Jupiter, with lifted hands he cried;
O Jove and Gods, if by your will divine,
Toss'd both at sea and land, I hither came;
By fatal word within, without by sign,
To me now presently confirm the same.
Jove heard his pray'r, and straight it thundered.
This made Ulysses glad. Then spake a maid
The fatal word. Twelve maids, to furnish bread,
Were to grind wheat continually employ'd:
Eleven their work had done and went to bed;
The weakest still staid grinding, and thus pray'd:
Jove, who without a cloud hast thundered,
Grant me poor maid my wish, and then she said,
O Jove, that father art of Gods and men,
Let never more these wicked suitors taste
Meat in this house, nor ever come agen,
That pain me thus. This supper be their last.
Ulysses with this word, and with the thunder,
Well pleased was, and thought assuredly
With Pallas' help the suitors to bring under,
And many though they were, to make them die.
Then th' other maids came in and made a fire
Within the hall. And then too from his bed
Telemachus rose, puts on his attire,
And sword and shoes; his spear with brazen head
He took into his hand, and stood i'tli' door,
And to the nurse, Euryclea, he spake:
What meat, what lodging, had this stranger poor?
Or was there none that care of him did take?
My mother's nature, wise as she is, is such
Highly to honour men of less desert;
But for this stranger perhaps cares not much.
Then said Euryclea, She has done her part;
Wine he has had as much as he thought fit,
She ask'd him if he had a mind to eat;
He answered that he had no appetite
To bread at present, nor to any meat.
She bade her maids set up a standing bed;
But he, as one in love with misery,
Would none of that, nor bed, nor coverled,
But on the ground resolved was to lie,
And make his scrip the bolster for his head,
And for a bed to take a raw cow-hide,
And sheep skins with the wool for coverled
Without the door; and we the rug applied.
This said, Telemachus with spear in hand
To council goes, and his dogs followed him.
Then Euryclea gives the maids command
The rooms of th'house to dress up and make trim.
Rise, maids, said she, sprinkle and sweep the hall,
Lay cushions on the chairs, with sponges mak e
The tables clean, the temp'rer and cups all;
And see of water that there be no lack.
Go to the spring and fetch fair water thence
Quickly. You know to-day is holiday;
The suitors will not now be long from hence.
So said the nurse. The women her obey;
For water to the fountain went twice ten;
The rest did diligently work within.
The maids that went for water came agen;
And the proud woo'rs by that time were come in.
nd then came in the master of the swine,
Eumaeus: three swine frank'd and fat he brought,
There to be ready ’gainst the suitors dine;
In all his swine-sties better there were not.
And he unto Ulysses kindly spake:
Stranger, how fare you ’mongst the wooers here?
Do they more pity now upon you take
Than formerly; or still deride you there?
O, said Ulysses, that the Gods would give
These men what to their insolence is due,
Who in a house not theirs so lewdly live,
As if no modesty at all they knew.
Then came Melanthus from a place hard by;
He had the charge o' th' goats, and brought the best,
And spake unto Ulysses spitefully:
Art thou here still, to beg and to molest
The company? Dye mean before you go
To taste my fingers ? Is there no good cheer
In other places ’mongst the Greeks, and so
You mean to dwell continually here?
Then came a third, that charge had of the kine;
Philœtius by name, with him he brought
A heifer and more goats, on which to dine,
Over the water, in the ferry-boat.
Philœtius ask'd Eumaeus in his ear,
Who's this, that's new come hither, and from whence ?
What countryman, and what his parents were ?
For, for his person he may be a prince;
God can make princes go from land to land
And beg, when he will give them misery.
This said, he took Ulysses by the hand,
And spake unto him kind and lovingly:
Father, I wish you as much happiness
As ever you enjoyed before; but now
I see you are in very great distress.
O Jove! what God so cruel is as thou ?
Though born thou wert, yet pitiest not to see
The torments of mankind. To think upon
Ulysses makes me weep. It may be he
Thus begs somewhere, with such apparel on,
Or else he's dead. O then I am undone.
He set me o'er his herds when but a boy;
But infinite they're grown since he is gone,
Or man would quickly all cow-kind destroy;
But mine the suitors force me to bring in
For them to eat, and ne'er regard his son ;
The goods to share already they begin
Of th' owner, that so long now has been gone.
And I devising was what I should do,
To take my cattle with me and be gone,
And one or other prince to give them to;
But that, I thought, would be unjustly done,
For they Telemachus his cattle were.
Again, I thought it labour very sour
To stay and keep my master's cattle here,
For others in his absence to devour.
So here abide I, and myself I flatter
With hope to see Ulysses one day come
Back to his house, and the proud suitors scatter.
Thus said the master of the kine. To whom
Ulysses said: Honest you seem, and wise;
I therefore will a secret to you swear,
By Jove on high, you shall see with your eyes
Ulysses, if you wish to see him, here,
And all these domineering suitors slay.
Then, O, said he, that Jove would have it so;
For I should let you see in such a fray
Quickly how much these hands of mine can do.
Eumacus also did like prayer make
To see Ulysses there. So ended they.
While they discourse the suitors counsel take
How they might make Telemachus away.
Then o'er their heads an eagle flew on high,
Sinister, with a fearful dove in's foot.
Then said Amphinomus, Let's lay this by,
And think of supper, for we cannot do't.
The suitors all approved of what he said,
And in they went, and there on bench and seat
Within Ulysses' house their coats they laid,
And set themselves to kill and dress their meat.
Then from the herd they sacrificed a cow,
And many well-grown sheep, and goats well fed,
And many a very fat and pamper'd sow;
Th' entrails they roasted and distributed.
Eumaeus gave out cups, Philcetius bread,
Melanthus from the temp'rer fill'd out wine;
The suitors on the meat before them fed
With stomachs good, and drank the blood o' th' vine.
Telemachus Ulysses in the hall
Hard by the threshold sets, (and there he sat
On an ill-favour'd stool at table small),
And gave him his just share of th' entrails fat,
And for him fill'd a great gold cup with wine.
Sit here, said he, and fare like other men;
Fear neither blows nor scoffs; the house is mine ;
Ulysses is the owner of it. When
He first possessed it, he gave it me.
And you, my mother's suitors, mock no more,
But keep the peace as long as here you be;
For else perhaps arise may trouble sore.
At first the suitors knew not how to take
Telemachus his words, and silent were,
Admiring that such threatening words he spake,
So many men provoking without fear.
But by and by Antinous said thus:
Since Jove appeared has in his defence,
Let's put these threats up of Telemachus,
Else we should quickly spoil his eloquence.
So said Antinous. But Telemachus
Car'd not at all for anything he said.
When peace within doors was concluded thus,
In other rites o' th' feast they were employ'd;
The hecatomb they bear throughout the town
Into Apollo's shady grove divine.
The upper joints in messes they divide,
So fill'd their tables and sat down to dine.
The portion of Ulysses was no less
Than other suitors had, nor more; for why,
Telemachus had order'd every mess
Should equal be, and men serv'd equally.
Amongst the suitors was a very knave,
Ctesippus was his name, a rich man's son,
And therefore hop'd Penelope to have.
This man to th' wooers made a motion:
Hear me, you suitors of Penelope,
This stranger here is equal made to us,
And therefore reason 'tis that also we
Should love the strangers of Telemachus.
Lo, here's a gift I'll give him, that he may
Bestow it, ift please him, on him or her
That empts the chamber-pots, or giv't away
To any of Ulysses' bondmen here.
With that he hurled at Ulysses' head
A cow's foot, but he turn'd his head the while,
And from the stroke himself delivered.
Then smil'd Ulysses a sardonic smile;
Telemachus his anger could not hide.
'Tis well, said he, you did not hurt him here,
For else, believe it, you had surely died
0' th' place, run through the body with my spear,
And never found a wife here, but a grave.
Therefore give over this behaviour wild;
Of good and bad I now some knowledge have,
And do not always take me for a child.
What's past I bear, the havoc of my cattle,
My corn and wine consumed lavishly;
'Tis hard for one with many t' enter battle.
Use me no longer as an enemy;
For fighting to be slain I'd rather chuse,
Than see my guests or servants harshly used;
My women, as they pass about the house,
To be so basely tugg'd, touz'd, and abus'd.
This said, awhile the suitors silent were;
But not long after, Agelaus spake.
Let's not, said he, against a truth so clear
Struggle, and what is said in ill part take;
Nor harshly use the stranger any more,
Nor any servant of Telemachus;
But yet I have a silly word in store
For him, and for his mother, and for us.
Whilst there was hope Ulysses might come home,
The suitors had done best at home to stay,
Expecting him, and not have hither come;
But since there's none, to's mother he should say,
Take one of them for husband, which you please,
And most shall give you; so shall he enjoy
His father's means, and eat and drink at ease,
And she with her new husband go her way.
To this Telemachus replying says,
By Jove, and by my father's misery,
Who now is lost and dead, or somewhere strays
Far off from Ithaca, it is not I
That do my mother keep from marrying
Whom she thinks good. I do advise her still
To take the man that shall most treasure bring;
But I'll not make her do't against her will.
So ended he. Then on the suitors' faces
Pallas sets up a laughter not their own,
Nor to be stopp'd; their senses she displaces,
Their meat was bloody, and their hearts were down.
What is't, poor men, said Theoclymenus,
Your heads and faces are wrapt up in night;
You weep and groan; the walls and beams of th' house
To me seem bloody; and left there is no light;
The hall and porch, methinks are full of sprites
Ready to go to hell; the sun has lost
His place in heaven, nor are there any lights;
And dismal darkness bath the house engross'd :
At this they laugh'd. Then, said Eurymachus,
This stranger is not very well, let him
By those that wait be guided from the house
To th' market-place; for all within is dim.
I am, said Theoclymenus, not blind,
I can go the market-place alone.
I have both eyes and ears, and feet and mind:
With these I can go hence. Guide need I none,
And go I will; for evil is hard by,
Which none of you the suitors shall escape
That have so much abused the family.
This said, he parts, and left the woo'rs to gape
On one another, and with insipid jests
To vex Telemachus, and themselves please,
And all upon Telemachus his guests.
The words that one of them then said were these:
Telemachus, of all men you're least able
To make an entertainment or a feast.
For first you for this beggar set a table,
Who eats and drinks as stoutly as the best,
But can no work do, nor has any force;
A very burthen to the earth. And this
A prophet would be, and loves to discourse
Of ill to come. My counsel therefore is,
That you would put these strangers both aboard
Some ship, and send them into Sicily.
They that way may some profit you afford.
Thus said the woo'rs, but little cared he,
But silently the sign expecting stood
His father should have giv'n of falling on.
Penelope meanwhile sat where site could
Hear plainly what was said by every one.
And now the suitors merry supper made,
And laughing sat, and fed on much good cheer:
But after supper worse none ever had,
For of the wrongs themselves beginners were.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XXI.
Penelope bring. eth forth her husband'a bow, which the suitors could not bend. Ulysses makes himself known to Eumaus and Philœtius. He bends the bow.
PENELOPE, the suitors' strength to try,
Who soon st could bend her noble husband s bow,
And through the axes make his arrow fly,
And whom she was to marry now to know,
To a high chamber up the stairs she went,
Wherein Ulysses' precious goods did stand.
There hung upon a pin the bow unbent;
The well-made key she carried in her hand.
This bow was given him by Iphitus
At Sparta. But Ulysses with him met
First at Messena; for it fell out thus.
Ulysses then was there about a debt.
Messena men their ships had put ashore
At Ithaca, and thence had ta'en a prey
Of sheep, which was in number fifteen score,
And, with the shepherds, carried them away.
This was the cause Ulysses thither went.
'Twas a long way, and he scarce past a boy;
But by his father and the lords was sent
T' ask reparation for this annoy.
But Iphitus twelve mares had lost; each one
A young mule had that followed her behind,
(Which of his death were the occasion),
And at Messena these he thought to find.
But as he was returning back again,
And came unto the house of Hercules,
That mighty man first did him entertain,
And after, killing him, his mares did seize.
This was the man that to Ulysses gave
The bow; and from him had a sword and spear.
But Hercules had sent him to his grave,
Ere they had tasted one another's cheer.
This bow he carried not to Ilium,
Nor ever had made use of it in fray;
But often had it in his hand at home;
For only as a monument it lay.
Penelope now standing at the door,
Quickly the bolt strook back with her great key,
The valves fly open suddenly and roar;
As when a great bull roars, so roared they.
Penelope went in, and up she stepp'd
Upon a board whereon were standing chests,
In which, ’mongst odours sweet, the clothes were kept,
The costly garments, robes, and coats, and vests.
Thence to the bow she reach'd, and from the pin
She took it as it hung there in the case;
And sitting down, her lap she laid it in.
Aloud she wept, and tears ran down apace:
And when she long enough had weeping been,
The bow she did unto the suitors bear,
And quiver with it full of arrows keen:
The axes by her women carried were.
Then with her scarf she shaded both her cheeks,
Having a waiting-woman on each hand;
Unto her gallant suitors thus she speaks:
Hear me, you lusty suitors that here stand,
Using this house, not yours, continually,
To eat and drink in at another's cost;
And for it do pretend no reason why,
But as contenders who shall love me most.
Lo here; to him I make myself a prize,
Who this good bow with greatest ease shall bend,
And whose aim'd arrow through these axes flies,
With him from this most blessed house I’ll wend.
This said, Eumseus th' axes and the bow
By her command unto the suitors bears;
And as he went, his eyes for grief o'erflow,
Nor could Philœtius abstain from tears;
For which Antinous gave them this reproof:
You foolish clowns, what ails you to shed tears ?
Has she not for her husband grief enough?
That you must add your sorrow unto hers.
Sit silently, eat and drink quietly;
Or if you needs must weep, go weep without.
Leave the bow here, the suitors' strength to try,
And that it may be carried round about.
Not that I think there's any man among
Us all can bend it as Ulysses could:
For I remember him though I were young.
So said he; though he thought he bend it should,
And also shoot through th' axes every one,
Though he were only the first to be shot.
For he the other suitors had set on,
And was the first contriver of the plot.
Telemachus then to the suitors spake:
Sure Jove, said he, bereav d me has of sense;
My mother tells me she'll a husband take,
And, leaving me, depart with him from hence;
And I here merry am that should be sad.
But be't as ’t will, the game must now begin,
For such a wife as ne'er Achaia had,
Nor in Mysen or Argos was e'er seen,
Nor Pyle, nor Ithaca, nor in Epire.
But what need I set forth my mother's praise ?
You know't yourselves. Therefore I you desire
To put off all excuses and delays.
And I myself will be the first to try
This mighty bow, whether I can or no,
And through the axes make the arrow fly.
'Twill grieve me less to let my mother go ;
Since I have strength to bend my father's bow,
Why should I doubt of governing his state ?
And from him presently his coat did throw
And sword, and then fell to delineate
The ground whereon the axes were to stand.
On one long line he set them all upright.
The wooers admir'd the justness of his hand ;
For why the like was ne'er done in his sight.
Then went he to the sill to try the bow.
Thrice he essay'd it, and was near it still.
And thrice again relenting let it go.
Once more had done it. But 'twas not his will;
For then his father check'd him with a wink.
Alas ! then, said Telemachus, must this
Be all my strength ? Too young I am, I think.
Come, let one take the bow that elder is.
This said, the bow and arrow he laid by,
And to the seat went where he sat before.
Then, said Antinous, The bow let's try,
In order as we sit. Let him therefore
Try first, whose table next the cupboard is,
And so to the right hand up, one by one.
The other suitors all approved this.
Leiodes was the first; so he begun;
His place was low'st. He to the threshold went
To try his force ; but to his tender hand
And feeble arms the bow would not relent.
Then down he laid it there, and lets it stand;
And to the suitors spake: This bow, says he,
I cannot bend, some other take't in hand.
It's like of many lords the death to be.
When by the strongest it comes to be mann'd.
For better 'tis to die than live and miss
The hopes you hither come for ev'ry day.
And what is 't any of you hope but this,
That you Ulysses' consort marry may ?
But when he shall this bow have understood,
Let him some other lady woo at ease
Amongst th' Achaeans whom he shall think good,
And let Penelope take whom she please.
This said, the bow and arrow he set by,
And to the seat went where he sat before,
And by Antinous was angrily,
As soon as he had spoke, rebuk'd therefore.
What say you ? That this bow the death shall be
Of many lords ? Why so ? ’Cause you have not
The strength to bend it. Others have, you'll see;
But you for bending bows were not begot.
Then to Melantheus he turn'd and said,
Let fire be made, and a great chair set by 't,
And let upon it cushions be laid,
And let us have good store of tallow white,
T' anoint and warm, and supple make the bow,
And try if we perhaps may bend it then.
Fire, chair, and cushions came, and grease enough,
But to no purpose; too weak were the men.
Antinous yet and Eurymachus
Gave it not over; these two were the best
Of all the suitors that came to the house:
No hope at all remained for the rest.
Eumaeus and Philoetius then went out
Together ; after them Ulysses went,
And when they were the gate and court without,
Himself unto them to discover meant.
And fair he spake them : Master of the kine,
And you Eumaeus, master of the swine,
Shall I keep in, or speak a thought of mine ?
To speak it out my heart does me incline.
What if Ulysses should come suddenly,
Brought by some God, and stand before this rout,
On whose side, his or theirs, would you then be?
What your mind prompts you to, speak freely out.
Then answer'd him the master of the kine,
O that the Gods above would have it so,
You'ld see the virtue of these hands of mine.
The master of the swine then said so too.
When now the hearts of both of them he knew,
He spake again and said, 'Tis I am he,
That after twenty years return to you;
And know you longed have this day to see.
Of all my servants I find only you
That wish me here. If therefore it shall please
The Gods by me the suitors to subdue,
I'll give you wealth enough to live at ease,
And houses near me, and shall wedded live,
And brothers of Telemachus shall be.
And that you may assuredly believe
Ulysses speaks it, you a sign shall see.
With that he pull'd his rags beside his thigh,
And lets them see the place the boar had rent,
Then when upon Parnassus' mountain high
He with his uncle's sons a hunting went.
And then they fling their arms about Ulysses,
And kiss his hand and shoulders, weeping sore ;
And he again embraced them with kisses,
Nor had till sunset weeping given o'er,
But that Ulysses hindered it. Give o'er, said he,
Your weeping, lest that some one come out hither,
And tell within what here without they see.
Go in, but one by one, not altogether.
First I'll go in, and then come you. Now mark.
I'll pray the suitors I the bow may try.
If to my motion they refuse to hark,
Give it into my hand as you pass by;
And you Eumaeus bid the women shut
The house-doors all, nor suffer any one
O' th' men without the house his head to put.
And though within they hap to hear men groan,
That they stir not, but ply their business.
The utter gate Philœtius lock you fast,
That to the house there may be no access.
This said, into the hall again he pass'd,
And after him his servants. Now the bow
Was in Eurymachus his hand by th' fire.
He warm'd and rubb'd, and did what he could do,
But for to bend it he was ne'er the nigher.
At this he vex'd, and took it heinously,
And, O, said he, 'tis not for my own part
I troubled am, but for the company,
'Tis chiefly that I take so much to heart.
Nor is it for a wife that I complain;
For in Achaia ladies be enough ;
But that we hope Penelope to gain,
Although we cannot bend Ulysses' bow.
Then, said Antinous, 'Twill not be so.
This day unto Apollo sacred is,
And not a day for bending of the bow ;
Therefore to lay it by is not amiss.
And let the axes stand still as they do;
For 'tis not like they will be stolen away,
And so go in and offer wine unto
The God. The bow may till to-morrow stay.
And bid Melanthus in the morning bring
Goats of the fattest, and whereof the savour
May from Apollo, of all archers king,
For bending of the bow procure us favour.
They all agree. Into the house they went.
The officers for hands the water hold;
The waiters fill the cups, and them present;
And when they drunk had each man what he would,
Then spake Ulysses to the suitors thus:
Hear me, ye suitors, what I have to say,
Antinous, and you, Eurymachus,
For to you two 'tis chiefly that I pray;
Since you the bending of the bow remit
To th' Gods, to give to whom they please; and they
To-morrow doubtless will determine it;
Let me now of the bow make an essay,
That I may know whether my strength be spent,
And what I could before now cannot do;
Whether I still be firm or do relent
With hardship, and with want of looking to.
These words of his made all the suitors mad
With fear that he indeed would bend the bow.
Antinous gave him language very bad.
Thou wretched stranger, is it not enough
That of our feast thou hast an equal part,
And that of our discourse (and none but thou,
Stranger and beggar) made a bearer art ?
'Tis wine that makes thee not thyself to know ;
For wine serves all men so that drink too much.
Wine hurt Eurytion, the centaur great;
His carriage in Perithous' house was such,
Among the Lapithae sitting at meat,
That angry with 't they were, and all arose,
And with sharp iron cut off both his ears,
And with the same they pared off his nose.
Away the cause of his own harm he bears.
From that day on, centaurs and men are foes.
Themselves men hurt by wine immoderate.
So if you bend the bow, your ears you’ll lose ;
For you'll find here no prating advocate ;
But to king Takim forthwith you shall go,
And he will of you make a cruel end.
Therefore sit still, and let alone the bow;
Nor with men younger than yourself contend.
Then, said Penelope, I'd have you know,
Antinous, that you did very ill
To wrong Telemachus his guest. What though
He bend the bow, d'ye think I take him will
For husband ? I am sure you think not so.
Let none of you be sad with fear of that.
Then to her said Eurymachus, No, no;
That's not the thing that we be troubled at.
'Tis of our honour that we jealous be :
For how will men and women, think you, prate;
But that such suitors woo Penelope
As could not bend Ulysses' bow, but that
A beggar that pass'd by by chance could bend it ?
Which unto us will be no little shame.
Who, said she, live on others' means and spend it,
Should not stand much on honour and on fame;
Besides, this stranger is well made and tall,
And of a great man says he is the son.
Give him the bow to try his strength withal;
For this I’ll promise him, and see it done:
If he do bend it, I'll on him bestow
Good clothing, and a handsome coat and vest,
Shoes to his feet, dart, sword with edges two,
And send him to such place as he thinks best.
Then spake to her Telemachus her son:
Mother, to give the bow, or to deny't,
Is in my power, and hinder me can none
In Elis, or Achaia, or here right from
From giving it unto this stranger here,
If I think fit. But mother, pray go now
Up to your chamber, and look to your work,
And leave to us to dispute of the bow.
She mused on, and thought his counsel wise ;
And being in her chamber sore did weep
For the absence of her husband, till her eyes
By th' Goddess Pallas closed were with sleep.
Eumaeus now had brought the bow about,
And come it was to where Ulysses sat.
The suitors all at once then cried out,
Swineherd, rogue, lout, what meanest thou by that ?
If the Gods please to favour our design,
Thou shalt be slain and carried out of sight,
And there devoured be by thy own swine.
This put Eumaeus into a great fright.
Telemachus then roar'd on th' other part,
Bear on the bow (t' obey all is not best),
I'll pelt thee, though that thou my elder art,
With stones home to thy hogsties, like a beast;
For I the stronger am. O that I were
But so much stronger than these suitors all,
I soon of some of them the house should clear.
They laugh'd at this, and bated of their gall.
Eumaeus then took up the bow agen,
And gave it to Ulysses in his hand.
This done, Euryclea he called then.
It is, said he, Telemachus' command
To lock the doors all; and that if you hear
Noise in the house of blows, or groaning men,
Let none go forth, but at their work stay there.
This said, Euryclea went in agen,
And locked the doors. Philcetius likewise
Went silently and shut the utter gate,
And with a ship-rope that lay by, it ties,
And coming back sits where before he sate;
And look'd upon Ulysses, who, to know
What work the worms had in his absence made;
This way and that way turning was the bow.
At this the suitors one t' another said,
This beggar surely has no little skill
In bows or in bow-stealing, or of's own
He has one like 't, or make one like it will,
He doth examine it so up and down.
Another said, As he shall bend the bow,
So let him find, as he is begging alms.
So mock'd they. When he view'd it had enough,
And holden it awhile had in his palms,
He bent it. As a fiddler does not spend
Very much labour the sheep's gut to strain,
So he, Ulysses his strong bow to bend
Did put himself to very little pain.
Then with his left hand he the string essay'd;
It sounded like the singing of a swallow.
The suitors then began to be afraid,
And mighty claps of thunder straightway follow.
Jove's token very welcome was t' Ulysses.
Then to the bow he set a shaft, and there
Sitting, shot through the axes, not one misses.
The rest of th' arrows in the quiver were.
Then turning to Telemachus he said,
I have not sham'd you, nor have miss'd one axe,
Nor long a bending of the bow I staid:
You see then that the woo'rs me falsely tax.
But now His time for after suppering,
Ere day be done, and taking such delights,
As cups, discourse, and pleasant music bring;
For these of feasting are the common rites.
Then to his son with's eye he beckoned.
Telemachus that well him understood,
With spear in hand and helmet on his head,
Came unto him, and close by his chair stood.
ODYSSEY.
LID. XXII.
The killing of the wooers.
ULYSSES then himself delivereth
Of his foul rags, and leaps up to the sill,
With bow in hand and arrows tipt with death,
And spake to th' wooers boasting of his skill.
Suitors, said he, this match is at an end;
Jove speed me now. Another mark have at,
Which none ere shot at yet. Apollo send
Me luck to hit. As he was saying that,
T' Antinous the shaft he did address,
Who had the cup in's hand about to drink;
Than of his death he thought of nothing less.
For one amongst so many who would think,
How strong soever, durst do such a thing?
The arrow pierc'd his neck from throat to poll.
The wound received, he turns round staggering;
The blood stream'd out; away he threw the bowl;
And overturned the table with his feet;
Both bread and meat lay scatter'd in the hall.
The suitors bustle and in clusters meet,
Of this great man amazed at the fall.
Then one of them unto Ulysses said:
Stranger, this was ill shot; thou killed hast
The greatest man in Ithaca. Thou'st plaid
Thy last prize. To the crows thou shalt be cast.
But yet they held their hands; for why, they thought
'Twas done by misadventure, not contriv'd;
For, proud and foolish, they perceived not
The fatal hour was to them all arriv'd.
Then said Ulysses, with a sullen eye,
Dogs, dead you thought me, and spent my estate;
With you my woman you compell’d to lie;
And would have wedded, whilst I liv'd, my mate.
No fear you had neither of Gods on high,
Nor of revenge from any mortal man;
But now a vengeance to you all is nigh.
At this they frighted were, and looked wan;
And each one peep'd about what way to take
To save his own life, if he could, by flight.
None but Eurymachus t' Ulysses spake:
If you Ulysses be, you say but right;
Much harm is done you both in house and field;
But this Antinous author was of't all;
He set us on, and here lies justly killed.
For wedding of your wife his care was small.
His care was how to make himself here king
(Which Jove not suffer'd him to bring to pass);
And to destruction how your son to bring,
He chiefly thinking and designing was.
And since that he deservedly is slain,
Spare your own people; we'll repair what's done,
And what is spent we will make up again,
And recompense with twenty cows each one;
And brass and gold till you be satisfied;
If not, there's no man can your anger blame.
To this Ulysses with a sour look replied:
Your whole estates, and added to the same
How much soever you can elsewhere get,
Too little is to bind me to desist,
Until the suitors shall have paid their debt.
Two ways before you lie, take which you list,
To fight or fly, if you will death avoid ;
But fly, I think you cannot. So said he.
Eurymachus then to the suitors said:
The man will not lay down his bow you see;
But since 'tis in his hand, and arrows by,
And stands upon the threshold of the door,
His shafts will fly at us continually,
And till we are all slain will not give o'er:
Let's therefore take up tables for defence
Against his shafts, and, sword, in hand, run all
Unto the door at once and drive him thence,
And people of the town together call.
This said, his sword with double edge he drew,
And thundered him with words; but howsoever,
A deadly shaft first from Ulysses flew
That enter'd at his breast and stuck in's liver.
Down fell his sword, he turns himself quite round,
And throws his blood about him every way;
Kicks down the table, meat and cup, to th' ground,
And with his brow beating the floor he lay;
And sprawling made the seat shake with his feet,
And endless darkness lay upon his eye.
Then rose Amphinomus and death did meet,
He thought from thence to make Ulysses fly,
But by Telemachus prevented was,
That slew him with his spear upon the place.
From back to breast the well-thrown spear did pass;
Down with a thump he falls upon his face.
Telemachus i' th' body left the spear.
For why, he had good reason to mistrust
Amongst so many swords, if he staid there,
He might be killed by some blow or thrust.
Then to his father, as he by him stood,
To fetch down arms, said he, 'Twill do no harm,
Two spears, a buckler, and a helmet good,
And both Philœtius and Eumaeus arm.
Run quickly, said Ulysses, while there be
Arrows remaining, lest they force me should
To quit the door. Then quickly up ran he
Unto the room wherein the armour stood.
Eight spears, four bucklers, and four helmets good
He took, and to his father came again.
And first he arm'd himself, and ready stood;
The two good servants themselves armed then.
Ulysses' arrows, till they all were gone,
Kill'd each his man, and one by one they fall;
But when they all were spent and left was none,
He sets his bow to lean against the wall.
Over his shoulder he his buckler cast,
And puts his well-made helmet on his head.
The two spears with his hand he griped fast,
And then his posture he considered.
There was i' th' wall a certain window high,
By th' sill whereof a way lay to the street,
To which he bade Eumaeus have an eye,
And near it stand. But one way was to it.
Then Angelaus to the suitors said,
Why does not some man to that window haste,
And to the people cry aloud for aid,
That so this shooter may have shot his last ?
Then, said Melantheus, No, no, 'tis in vain;
The street-door and the court-gate stand so close,
That one good man the place may well maintain
Against how many s' ever them oppose.
But well, I'll fetch you armour to put on,
And weapons I will bring you out of hand;
For where they by Ulysses and his son
Were laid, I know the room and where they stand.
Then up he went; twelve bucklers he brings thence,
As many spears, as many helmets too.
The suitors then prepared for their defence.
And now Ulysses knew not what to do;
But to Telemachus he turn'd and said,
Th'ill women sure, or else Melantheus has
For th' wooers gotten arms, and us betray'd.
No, father, answered he, my fault it was;
The door I left unlock'd, and but put to,
Which somebody observ'd. Eumaeus, now
Go lock it fast. Withal consider who,
The women or Melantheus serv'd us so.
Whilst thus they talk, Melantheus went once more
To fetch down arms ; Eumaeus saw him then,
And told Ulysses: Him we thought before
To be the man, is thither gone agen.
Shall I go now and kill him (if so be
I can) or bring him hither to you, to endure
What you think fit for all his villainy?
Then said Ulysses, We two will be sure,
Telemachus and I, to keep these men
From going out, and therefore, go you two
And bind his hands and feet together ; then
Betwixt his body and his legs put through
A rope, and at his back tie boards, and so
Close to a pillar hoise him up on high
Unto the beams of th' house, that he may know
His fault, and feel his pain before he die.
Then up they went, and stood without the door,
On each side one. Melantheus was within,
At the far end, looking for armour more;
And after there he long enough had been,
Out with an helmet in one hand he came,
A buckler in the other, great, but torn;
Laertes in his youth had borne the same,
But now with lying it was mouldy worn.
As he came out, they seiz'd him suddenly,
And in again they dragg'd him by the hair,
And then his hands unto his feet they tie,
And up they hoise him, as they bidden were.
This done, Eumaeus said unto him jeering,
In that soft bed, Melantheus, easily
You will observe the morning's first appearing,
That for the woo'rs your goats may ready be.
Then armed both, and locking up the door,
And breathing courage, to Ulysses come;
So that on the threshold there were four;
But many were the suitors in the room.
Then down unto Ulysses Pallas came,
In Mentor's shape, to whom Ulysses said,
You are my friend, and our age is the same;
For old acquaintance let me have your aid.
Though thus he said, he thought it Pallas still.
The suitors clamour'd; Agelaus spake:
Mentor, beware, the course you take is ill,
Against us all Ulysses' part to take;
For 'tis our purpose when these two are slain,
Father and son, that you the next shall be,
And of your rashness suffer shall the pain,
And with his substance your own mix will we;
Nor shall your sons, daughters, or wife live here.
Pallas was angry at these words of his,
And chid Ulysses then, and ask'd him where
His courage was. And what, said she, is this
The man that bravely fought nine years at Troy,
And kill'd in fight so many gallant men,
And he whose prudence did the town destroy,
And whines so at his coming home again?
Come hither, milksop, says she, stand by me,
And how your old friend Mentor shall requite
The kindness you have shown him, you shall see.
Yet presently she would not end the fight;
For further yet she would the courage try
Both of Ulysses and Telemachus,
And in a swallow's shape she up did fly,
And sat upon a black beam of the house.
Meanwhile the suitors by Agelaus,
Amphimedon and Demoptolemus,
Eurynomus, Pisandrus, Polybus,
The best bf all the suitors in the house,
(For many had been killed with the bow)
Encourag'd were: Friends, said he, let's be bold,
And at them all our good spears let us throw ;
So shall we make the man his hands to hold;
Mentor with theirs his fortune will not mix,
He and those hopes are gone; upon the sill
There are but four; Let's throw at once but six,
That if Jove please, we may Ulysses kill.
When he is gone, the rest we need not fear.
The suitors all approved this advice,
And then they lanced ev'ry man his spear;
But Pallas made it fall out otherwise;
For from the beam she soon blew here and there
The flying staves, whereof one hit the door;
The two side-posts and the walls wounded were.
When of the spears the danger was past o'er,
Then said Ulysses, Now our turn it is
To cast our spears at this unruly rout,
That, not content with former injuries,
Do what they can to take our lives to boot.
This said, and taking aim, their spears they threw.
Ulysses killed Demoptolemus.
Telemachus Euryades then slew;
Eumaeus with his spear kill'd Elatus;
Pisandrus by Philœtius was slain.
The suitors then to the room's end retreat,
And to the four gave time to take again
The spears that in the wounds were sticking yet.
Again they lanced ev'ry man his spear.
The swallow on the beam still puts them by,
And by the door, walls, posts, received they were.
Telemachus and Eumaeus only
Had little scratches; one upon his wrist;
Eumseus on the shoulder: but the skin
Scarce broken was; and both the other mist.
And then the four amongst the throng threw in
Their spears again; and then Ulysses slew
Eurydamus; and by Telemachus
Was slain Amphimedon; Eumaeus threw,
And killed Poly bus; Philœtius
Then smote Cressipus, and through pierc'd his breast,
And over him insulting thus he said:
Bold Praetor, that in love art with thy jest,
And to say anything art not afraid,
For the cow's-foot t' Ulysses thrown, take that.
Ulysses kill'd too Damastorides;
Telemachus Leiocrates laid flat
With spear in hand. When they had killed these,
Pallas aloft held forth her frightful shield;
And then, as cattle, stung with a gad-fly,
In heat of summer run about the field,
So round about the hall the suitors fly;
As when the vultures stoop down from the hill
Upon the fowl, these couch close to the plain,
Threatened with heavy clouds, they slay and kill,
These cannot fly away, nor turn again,
So they upon the suitors fiercely fall,
And winding with them, as they shift their ground.
They killing went; all gore-blood was the hall,
And made with thumps and groans a dismal sound.
Leiodes then kneel'd at Ulysses' feet
To be- his life. I came, said he, as priest,
And told them their behaviour was unmeet,
And always gave them counsel to desist;
But nothing that I said would they obey,
And of their own destruction authors are.
There's not a woman in the house can say
I did amiss. Must I like these men fare?
To this Ulysses with a sour look said,
Did you come with the suitors as their priest?
Then surely for them you have also pray'd,
That of my coming home I should have miss'd,
That with these men you daily might here board
Yourself, your wife, and children. Therefore die.
With that he took up Agelaus' sword,
Which, when he died, fell from him and lay by.
And with it at a stroke cut off his head.
But Phemius, the minstrel, 'scaped free,
For thither he came not for meat or bread:
The suitors forced him of necessity.
He had his fiddle in his hand, and stood
Within the door, and studied what to do,
Whether unto Ulysses go he should,
Or out a door unto the altar go
I'th' court, whereon with many a fat beast
Ulysses oft devoutly had serv'd Jove;
And having paus'd, at last he thought it best
To go t' Ulysses and his mercy prove.
Then down he laid his fiddle on the floor,
Between the temp'rer and a studded chair,
Then went and fell upon his knees before
Ulysses, and thus to him made his prayer:
Save me, Ulysses, and consider that
If you me slay, it after you will grieve.
I am a singer, but was never taught;
For song to me the Gods did freely give.
I sing to Gods and men, and have the skill
To sing to you as to a God; therefore,
Of cutting off my head lay by the will.
Besides, Telemachus can tell you more;
I was not hither drawn with smell of roast,
But many men and strong brought me by force.
Telemachus, that knew this was no boast,
Cried out, Hold father, 'tis not our best course
To slay the innocent, and I would fain
Save Medon too, that lov'd me from a boy,
And took care of me, if he be not slain
By coming in your or your servants' way.
Under a seat Medon himself had laid,
And wrapp'd himself up in a raw cow-hide,
And hearing what Telemachus had said,
Skipp'd nimbly out, his cow-skin cast aside,
And falling at Telemachus his knee,
lie to him said, O friend, lo here I stand;
Forbear, I pray, and to your father be
A means that also he may hold his hand;
For whilst his anger 'gainst the suitors staid,
That wasted have his goods, and him despis'd,
Killing each way about him, I'm afraid
He might perhaps kill me too unadvis'd.
Ulysses hearing, answered thus agen:
Take courage, man, there is no danger nigh,
And this remember, and tell other men,
That justice better thrives than knavery.
Go now into the court, and stay without,
Both you and Phemius, that I may do
The bus'ness in the house I am about.
Then out into the court away they go,
And on the altar of the God they sat,
Looking about, still fearing to be slain.
Ulysses, to be sure that none remain
Alive, and under seats or tables squat,
Search'd well the hall, and found they all were dead,
As fishes on the shore lie out, and by
The heat of Phaethon be murdered,
So did the woo'rs one on another lie.
Then to Telemachus Ulysses said,
Tell Euryclea I would speak with her.
Telemachus his father straight obeyed,
And scraped at the door that she might hear.
Nurse, says he, mother of the maids, come out,
My father to you somewhat has to say.
She heard him well, and presently, without
More words, the door she open'd with her key;
And found Ulysses standing ’mongst the dead,
Besmeared with blood, as when a lion has
Upon a cow at pasture newly fed,
With goary breast and chaps, so dight he was.
Th' old woman there beholding so much blood,
And carcases so many lying dead,
At such a mighty work amazed stood,
And was about to whoop, but hindered
Was by Ulysses. Hold, said he, within
Your joy, and let it not appear in vain;
To glory over dead men is a sin.
These men the Gods and their own sins have slain.
For neither from above they fear'd the Gods,
Nor men respected good or bad beneath,
And therefore now have felt the heavenly rods,
And brought upon themselves untimely death.
But tell me, nurse, how many women be
That me dishonour and do wickedness.
Fifty, says she, do serve Penelope,
And learn to work and wait, no more nor less;
Of these there twelve be that are impudent,
And care not for me, nor Penelope;
Telemachus was young: the government
To him of maids might not well trusted be.
But now I'll to my lady's chamber go,
Where she's asleep, some God has closed her eyes,
To tell her you are here. But he said, No;
First call those women who do me despise,
And have behaved themselves dishonestly.
Euryclea obeys, and goes her way,
And call'd those women. Come away, said she,
Telemachus i' th' hall does for you stay.
Meanwhile Ulysses call'd Telemachus
Unto him, and his faithful servants two,
Trusty Eumaeus and Philœtius.
Hear me, said he, what I would have you do,
Make these lewd woman carry hence the dead,
The chairs and tables in the hall make clean,
And when that bus'ness they have finished,
Into the court make them go forth again,
Into that narrow place'twixt th'house and hedge;
Till they forget the suitors' venery,
Make them of your sharp swords to feel the edge,
And for their stol'n unclean delight to die.
Then came the women down into the hall
Wailing, and tears abundantly they shed,
And presently unto their work they fall.
Into the porch they carry out the dead.
Ulysses giving order standeth by.
Telemachus then and Philœtius,
Also Eumaeus, do with shovels ply
The pavement daub'dwith blood,and cleanse the house
Scraping together dust and blood; and that
The women also carry out a door.
But when this bus'ness now an end was at,
There rested for them yet one bus'ness more.
They brought them thence into the narrow place,
From whence there was no hope at all to fly.
You, said Telemachus, for the disgrace
Done to me and my mother, must not die
An honest death.
This having said, he stretch'd
Between two pillars high a great strong rope,
That with their feet the ground could not be reach'd;
Hung there, they sprawl'd awhile, but could not drop.
Then down they dragged Melantheus, and his nose
And ears with cruel steel from's head they tear,
And brake his arms and legs with many blows,
And to the dogs to eat they throw his gear.
Their work now done, they washed their hands and feet,
And to Ulysses in the hall they went,
Who having found the place not very sweet,
For brimstone called to take away the scent.
Euryclea, said he, fetch brimstone hither,
And fire, and also wake Penelope,
And bid her maids come to me altogether,
But hasten them to come. Then answer'd she,
Dear child, 'tis well said. But first let me go
And bring you better clothes, a coat and vest.
These rags become you not. Then said he, No.
Bring me fire first, and after do the rest.
The fire she brought and brimstone presently,
Wherewith he aired both the court and hall,
The nurse then up goes to the rooms on high
To call the maids. T' Ulysses they came all.
They weep and sob, and all embrace Ulysses,
And kiss his head and shoulders, shake his hand;
And he again saluteth them with kisses.
Weeping for joy, they all about him stand.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XXIII.
Ulysses maketh himself known to Penelope, tells her his adven tares briefly, and in the morning goes to Laertes and makes himself known to him.
TH' old woman to the upper rooms ascended,
To wake Penelope, and let her know
Her husband was returned. Her joy amended
Much had her pace, and well she ambled now;
And standing at her head, Rise, child, said she;
The Gods at last have granted you your wishes.
Come down into the hall, where you shall see
The so long by you wish'd-for man, Ulysses.
The suitors he has killed ev'ry one,
Who needs the stewards of his house would be,
In despite of Telemachus, his son;
And live upon his substance lavishly.
To her again Penelope thus spake:
The Gods, Euryclea, sure have made you mad.
The Gods can wise men fools, and fools wise make.
The Gods have done you hurt, more wit you had.
You do me wrong, that know how little sleep
I have enjoyed since he went to Troy.
I never so well slept since, but still weep,
And now you come and wake me with a toy.
Be gone, ift had been any maid but you,
I should have sent her not well pleas'd away,
But to your age some more respect is due;
Go down again into the house you may.
Dear child, said she, I mock not, for His true.
Ulysses is i' th* house. That stranger's he.
Telemachus and no man else him knew;
And known to others would not let him be,
Till they these proud and naughty men had kill'd.
Penelope then starting from the bed
Embraced the nurse; her eyes with tears were fill'd.
And, as yet doubtful, still she questioned.
Euryclea, is all this true you say?
Is he indeed come home? Be serious.
How could he the proud suitors all destroy,
He being but one, they many in the house?
Nor saw, nor ask'd I, but I heard the groans
Of dying men; for up we were all shut
Within our doors, and locked up all at once,
And of our lives into a fear were put,
Till me, your son, Telemachus, call'd out
To come t' Ulysses. In the hall he stood,
And there in heaps the slain lay him about,
That like a lion stood besmear'd with blood;
You would have joy'd to see him.
Now they lie
In th court all in one heap. But busy he
Is airing of the house, a great fire by,
And for to call you hither has sent me.
But come, that in each other you may joy,
For now at last your wishes granted be.
Ulysses come, your son is past a boy,
And their revenge upon the woo'rs they see.
Nurse, answered she, triumph not out of season.
For to be glad to see him in the house,
You know there none is that have so much reason
As I have, and our son, Telemachus.
But 'tis not truth you tell me. What you say
Will come at last to nothing else but this,
It was some God that did the suitors slay,
Hating the sight of what they did amiss.
There never man came to them that can boast
He parted from them without injuries;
So by their wickedness their lives they lost;
Ulysses may have perish'd for all this.
Euryclea to this again replied,
Dear child, what words are these that from you come ?
Ulysses stands i'th' hall at the fire's side,
And yet you say he never will come home.
But well, I'll tell you now a surer sign:
When I was washing of his legs and feet,
I saw where th' wound was giv'n him by the swine;
And had then told you had he thought it meet;
But with his hand, for that cause, stopp'd my breath.
Come, I will lay my life on't willingly;
If it be false, put me to cruel death.
To this Penelope did then reply:
The purpose of the Gods, wise though you be,
You know not, nurse; but I'll go to my son,
And there upon the place with him I'll see
What men are slain, and who the deed has done.
Then down she went, consulting in her breast,
Whether at distance it were best to try,
Or else directly go unto the guest,
And there receive and kiss him presently.
But when into the hall she enter'd was,
Where sitting was Ulysses, in the light
Of a good fire, she went and took a place
That was to where he sat just opposite.
Ulysses look'd o' th' ground, expecting what
His wife would say, but long time she spake not;
But gazing on her husband, mute she sate,
As one that's in a trance, and has no thought:
But by-and-bye, surveying him, she thought
'Twas he; but seeing him so ill-array'd,
Her mind was chang'd; she thought that he 'twas not.
Telemachus his mother chid, and said,
Mother, hard-hearted mother, and unkind,
Why sit you at such distance from my father,
And have so little care to know his mind?
When many questions you should ask him rather.
Another woman would not keep off so
From her own husband that away had staid
Twenty years long, and suffer'd so much woe,
But at their meeting somewhat would hare said.
Son, said she then, I am astonish'd so,
I cannot speak, nor look him in the face;
But whether he Ulysses be or no,
I shall be certain in a little space,
For we have signs between us of our own,
Which we shall soon know one another by,
That to none living but ourselves are known.
Ulysses to his son then smilingly
Said, Let, Telemachus, your mother try me,
Perhaps she know me better will anon.
The cause why now so little she sets by me,
Is that I have ill-favour'd garments on.
But now let you and I look well about.
Who kills one man, unless great friends he have,
Must leave his kin and country, and go out;
But we have kill'd both many men and brave,
Therefore, consider what is to be done.
Father, said he, let that be your own care;
So wise as you are, men say there is none.
Our hands to do your pleasure ready are.
Why then, I'll tell you what is best to do:
Put on your coats, and let the women all
Into the hall in their best garments go;
The minstrel play; and they to dancing fall;
That he that stands without, or dwelleth nigh
Unto the house, or travelleth that way,
When he shall hear such mirth and melody,
May think, This surely is the wedding-day.
That so before this slaughter Fame have spread,
Depart we may from hence into the field,
And 'gainst the people of the town make head,
And take such counsel more as Jove shall yield.
When this was said, the men their coats put on;
The damsels dress themselves, the minstrel sung
And played upon his fiddle, and each one
To dancing fell, with it the palace rung.
And one that heard this as he stood without,
Said to another by him, She is married.
Fie, fie, she could no longer now hold out.
So, said he, ignorant how things were carried.
Meanwhile Ulysses bath'd and ointed is
B' Eurynome, and also richly clad
With a fair robe and coat; and beside this,
Taller and greater Pallas made him had,
And varnished with black his curled head.
As one by Vulcan and Athena taught,
Gold upon silver skilfully had spread,
So Pallas on Ulysses' beauty wrought.
Then from the bath he like a God came in,
And sat him down before his wife again;
And with her to discourse did thus begin:
Woman, said he, to speak to you is vain;
Above all women hardened is your heart.
What woman else that had her husband seen
After twice ten years' absence, thus apart
From him to sit, contented would have been ?
Make me a bed, nurse; what should I do here ?
Man, said Penelope, nor mightily
I magnify nor scorn you ; what you were
When you went hence, full well remember I:
But go, nurse, make for him the bed that he
Himself fram'd, by the chamber-door without.
Thus said she, but to try if that were he,
Yet griev'd him to the heart, and made him doubt.
Woman, said he, who has remov'd my bed ?
It cannot be but by a force divine.
With my own hands 'twas wrought and finished,
To th' end thereby it might be known for mine.
I' th' court an olive-tree stood great and tall,
Thick as a pillar. I about it made
A chamber. Of good stone I made the wall;
And cutting off the boughs the roof I laid;
And in the wall a good strong door I form.
When this was done, I cut up by the root,
And smooth'd with iron tools a lusty corm,
And setting it upright, fix'd the bed to't,
And pierc'd the wood with wimbles where 'twas meet;
And laid on silver, gold, and ivory.
A purple thong unto the door I fit.
This is the sign for you to know me by.
Whether it still remain I cannot tell,
Or ta'en away and down be cut the tree.
This said, and she the sign rememb'ring well,
The tears roll'd from her eyes. Thus weeping, she
Acknowledgeth and runneth to Ulysses ;
About his neck her milk-white arms she lays,
And both his shoulders and his head she kisses,
And, O Ulysses, be not angry, says,
The Gods have giv'n you wisdom, but denied
To satisfy our youth with mutual joy:
Take it not ill I have you thus far tried;
Since horror hath possessed my mind alway,
Lest some deceitful man (for such there be
Too many in the world) should hither come,
And flatt'ring, bring me into infamy.
Helen of Argos would have staid at home,
And not gone with th' adulterer of Troy,
Had she consider'd that th' Achaean lords
Might chance to come and fetch her thence away
Again into her country with their swords.
This speech inflam'd his love, and wet his eyes.
As a man shipwrecked swimming for his life,
Rejoiceth when the land he near him spies;
So welcome was Ulysses to his wife.
She hung upon him still, nor had let go
Till morning, but for Pallas, who would not
Let Phaeton and Iampus, th' horses two
That draw the Morn, be set to the chariot.
Then said Ulysses to Penelope,
O wife ! my troubles ended are not yet;
For still there many more remaining be;
Long time 'twill be ere to the end I get.
Tiresius did tell me this in hell,
When I went thither of his ghost to know,
Whether I with my mates should come home well,
Or not to Ithaca again, and how.
But come, 'tis bedtime, let us satisfy
Ourselves with sleep. Then said Penelope,
Your bed made ready shall be presently:
But since you mention'd have the prophecy,
Tell me what said Tiresias. I know
You'll tell it me one time or other, why,
If you will, may you not tell me it now?
To this Ulysses did again reply:
Because you long to know 't, I tell you then ;
Tiresias advised me to go
With oar on shoulder to a place where men
Inhabit, that the briny sea not know,
Nor ever mingle salt with what they eat,
Nor ever saw the ship with crimson face,
Nor yet those wings which do the water beat
(Called oars), to make the good ship go apace.
Now mark me well. When you shall meet a man,
Just at the end of Neptune's utmost bound,
Bearing upon his shoulder a corn-fan,
Stick down your lusty oar upon the ground;
There sacrifice to the world's admiral,
For new admittance, a ram, boar, and bull;
Then home again, and offer unto all
The Gods by name a hundred oxen full.
Your death will not ungentle be, for which
Age shall prepare you, and your soul unglue
Insensibly. Your people shall be rich
Which round about you dwell. All this is true
Then, said Penelope. If this be all,
Since your old age the Gods will happy make,
The sorrow yet to come can be but small.
Whilst thus this couple t'one another spake,
Meanwhile their bed with cov'rings soft was clad;
The maids, returned i' th' hall, before them stand;
Eurynome a torch to light them had,
And carried it before them in her hand,
Then parting, left them under marriage-law.
Telemachus and the good servants two,
When they had to the dancers said Hola,
Unto their beds within the palace go.
Ulysses and Penelope their joy
Converted had into a new content;
She to Ulysses telleth the annoy
She suffer'd from her suitors impudent;
What havoc they had made of cows and sheep,
And many barrels of her wine had wasted.
And he to her, what hurt o' th' land and deep
He done and suffer'd had. While his tale lasted
Well pleas'd she was, and had no list to sleep.
He told her how the Cicons he had beaten;
How Late from love of home his men did keep;
How Cyclops his companions had eaten;
And in revenge how he had made him blind;
How, to convey him home he did obtain
Of Æolus a leather-bag of wind,
Which breaking prison blew him back again ;
And how in Laestrigonia he lost
His good ships all but one, in which he was;
Told her the wiles of Circe; what the Ghost
In Hell said to him of Tiresias,
To whom he went his fortune for to know,
In a black ship ; and with his mother there
Discoursed; and saw many a one laid low
That in the Argive host had been his peer;
And how he heard the tempting Sirens sing
In concert, and scap'd safely by; and how
By th' shifting rocks, Charybdis vomiting,
And Scylla's clutches he did safely row;
How to Ogygia he came, and how
Calypso kept him in a cave, where she
To be his wife did promise to bestow
Upon him youth and immortality.
How to Phaeacia he came, where he
Much honour'd was, and thence by sea did come
Enrich'd by public liberality
With brass and gold and costly vestures home.
And at these words sleep seized on his eyes.
When Pallas thought Ulysses satisfied
With bed and sleep, she makes the morning rise,
And day from mortals now no longer hide.
Ulysses rose, and speaking to his wife,
We have, said he, both of us had much woe;
You for my absence weeping out your life,
And I, because the Gods would have it so.
But since we now again united be,
Look to the goods within. My folds I'll fill
Partly with booty from the enemy,
And many also my friends give me will.
Now to my grieved father I must go,
And therefore with your maids go up again ;
For ere the sun be up, the town will know
That in my house the suitors all are slain.
Do not so much as look out, or inquire.
This said, he put on arms. To arm also
His son and his two men he did require.
Then they got up, and there stood armed too.
Then open'd they the door and forth they went.
Ulysses led the way. Daylight was spread.
But Pallas out of town them safely sent
Into the field, and undiscovered.
ODYSSEY.
LIB. XXIV.
The Ithacesians bury the wooers, and sitting in council, resolve on revenge; and coming near the house of Laertes, are met by Ulysses and Laertes, with Telemachus and servants, the whole number twelve, and overcome & submit.
MEANWHILE unto the house came Mercury;
A golden rod he carried in his hand,
Wherewith he lays asleep a mortal eye,
And opens it again with the same wand,
And at the bloody heap he calls away
The suitors' souls. They all about him fly.
And as the rod directeth them the way,
They follow all, but screaming fearfully.
As in some venerable hollow cave,
Where bats that are at roost upon a stone,
And from the ledge one chance a fall to have,
The rest scream out and hold fast one by one;
So screaming all the souls together fly.
And first pass by Oceanus his streams,
Then by Sol's gate, and rock of Leucady;
And then they passed through the town of dreams,
And in a trice to th' mead of Asphodel,
And saw the soul there of Peleiades,
For there the souls of wretched mortals dwell,
And of Patroclus and Nestorides.
The soul of Ajax son of Telamon
Was also there, who 'mongst those warriors tall,
The goodliest person was, except the son
Of Peleus, who did much excel them all.
To these Atrides' soul came from hard by,
And theirs whose death had joined been with his,
And by Ægistus' hand were made to die.
Then to Atrides said Achilles this:
Atrides, we thought you of all the host
That came to fight against the town of Troy,
Had been by the high Gods beloved most;
For in the army you bore greatest sway.
Yet afterwards the first you were to fall.
T' had better been commanding t' have been slain.
Then had you had a noble funeral,
And tomb, whereby your glory might remain.
But now you died a miserable death.
To this Atrides' soul thus answered:
Happy were you at Troy to lose your breath,
With other Argives; that there perished
Fighting about you, in your dusty bed
Stretch'd out, your feats of horsemanship forgot,
But fighting we all day continued,
And till we gain'd your body ceased not.
Nor had we ceased then, but for the storm.
And then we bare your body to the fleet,
And there the blemishes thereof reform
With water fair and warm, and unguents sweet.
The Greeks about you wept, and cut their hair;
Your mother and her nymphs then came and roared,
Th' Achaean army was in such a fear,
That they were ready all to run aboard.
But Nestor, whose advice most current was,
Cried, Stay you, Argives, this is not the noise
Of armed foes, but Thetis now doth pass
With all her nymphs; of them this is the voice.
Then they all fearless stayed. And the nymphs stood
Mourning, and clothed him with garments meet.
The Muses nine, in turn with voices good,
Singing, made all the standers by to weep.
And seventeen days both Gods and men we mourn.
On the eighteenth we sheep and cattle slay.
And then in God-like clothes your body burn,
With many unguents sweet that on it lay.
Both foot and horse many the pile sustain,
And loudly shout, and Vulcan makes an end.
Only the bones and nothing else remain,
Which with pure wine and unguents sweet we blend.
Your mother sent the urn, by Vulcan made,
But given her by Bacchus, and therein,
Noble Achilles, your white bones we laid,
Mix'd with Patroclus you delighted in.
By yours, the ashes of Antilochus,
Whom next Patroclus was to you most dear,
We placed in an urn apart, and thus
Over you all one monument we rear,
High to be seen from sea by them that now,
Or shall hereafter sailing be that way.
Your mother also to the Gods did vow
T have noble prizes for the lords to play.
At princes' sepultures I oft have seen
Propos'd rich prizes to provoke the strife
Of noble minds, but that like these had been,
I never any saw in all my life.
So after death renowned your name will be;
But what am I the better, to whom Jove
Did for my pains a wretched death decree
(Such was the pleasure of the Gods above)
B' Ægistus and my own wife's bloody hand?
Thus they to one another talk'd in hell.
Then Mercury came to them with his band
Of woo'rs that in Ulysses' palace fell.
Of these Atrides knew Amphimedon,
(For he in Itbaca had been his guest),
And speaking to him first, he thus begun:
Amphimedon, what ail'd you and the rest,
To come to this dark place so in a throng,
The flow'r of Ithaca, of equal years?
If purposely a man should seek among
Your people all, he should not find you peers.
Were you by Neptune drowned in the main,
And hither sent by fury of the weather?
Or landing to find booty were you slain?
Or fighting for fair women were sent hither?
Come, tell me freely; I have been your guest.
Know you not I t' your father's house did come
With Menelaus, Ulysses to request
That he would go with us to Ilium?
Then said Amphimedon: I know it all,
And how we all deprived were of life,
I'll tell you true, and manner of our fall.
Ulysses absent, we all woo'd his wife.
She none denied, nor any married,
But casting how of life us to bereave,
To set a loom up came into her head,
As if she somewhat did intend to weave.
She sets it up, and did begin to weave.
Suitors, said she, since dead Ulysses is,
Stay yet a little while, and give me leave
To make an end but of one business.
I must for old Laertes make a cloth,
Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.
T' offend the wives of Greece I should be loth.
For to accuse me they will not forbear.
They'll say I very hasty was to wed,
If I go hence, and not provide a shroud,
Wherein Laertes must be buried.
Out of his wealth, that might have been allowed.
The suitors then were all content. And then
All day ste wove, but ere she went to bed
What she had wov'n she ravell'd out agen.
Three years her suitors she thus frustrated;
In the fourth year her women her betray'd;
And in we came while she the web undid.
She could the wedding now no more avoid.
The robe when it was finished and done
She washed clean, and it before us laid:
As bright it shin'd as either moon or sun.
And then ill-fortune brought Ulysses home
To the house were dwelt the master of the swine;
And thither too Telemachus did come,
From sandy Pylus, safely through the brine;
And both together there our death contrive.
That done, they both into the city come.
Telemachus the first was to arrive.
The master of the swine brought th' other home,
Like an old beggar with his staff in's hand,
Apparell'd in such miserable gear,
That, that was he, we could not understand,
Nor no man else, although he elder were.
We mock, we rate him, throw things at his head;
He patiently endured all his harms,
Until, by Jupiter encouraged,
From out the hall he took away the arms,
And in an upper chamber lock'd them fast.
Then craftily he bids his wife to send
To us his mighty bow, our strength to taste.
This the beginning was of our ill end;
For much too weak to bend the bow were we.
But when it was unto Ulysses brought,
Fearing by him lest it should bended be,
We all at once cried out, Hold, give't him not.
Only Telemachus cried, Let him try.
And then 'twas put into Ulysses' hands.
Ulysses bent it very easily.
Then leap'd he to the sill, and there he stands;
And round about he look'd upon us grim.
And first of all he shot Antinous,
At whom he took his aim, and killed him,
And with his arrows, after, more of us.
And one upon another down we fall.
'Twas plain, some present God there gave him aid,
For then he follow'd us about the hall,
Till all on heaps at last he had us laid.
Of groans and blows it made a dismal sound.
And thus, King Agamemnon, died we.
Our bodies yet there lie upon the ground;
Our friends yet unacquainted with it be,
That else would wash our wounds and us lament,
Which to the dead are ceremonies due.
Then said Atrides, O virtue excellent
Of your fair wife, happy Ulysses, you,
That with great valour have her repossessed.
My wife, Tyndareus' daughter, was not such.
Your consort's fame will be hereafter dressed
In noble songs, and the sex honour much.
But my wife's name shall stand in ballads vile,
And, sung in filthy songs, the sex disgrace.
Thus they discoursing were in hell. Meanwhile
Ulysses cometh to Laertes' place:
About it many lodgings were, wherein
His necessary servants all were laid;
And there they fed, and sat, and slept. But in
The house itself one old Sicelian maid,
That of his person always had the care.
Ulysses then, lest supper they should lack,
Said to his two good servants, For our fare
You must again unto the town go back,
And fetch a swine, the fattest in the sties,
Meanwhile I'll to the vineyard go, and try
Whether my father know can with his eyes,
After so long an absence, that 'tis I.
This said, his servants armed homeward hie,
And to the vineyard goes Ulysses then.
But Dolius he there could not espy,
Nor any of his sons, or of his men.
His sons and servants all abroad were gone,
For thorns to mend the hedges of the ground.
Laertes in the vineyard all alone
Placing of earth about a plant he found.
On him he had a foul coat, full of patches,
And ugly leather boots, those patch'd also;
But good enough to save his legs from scratches:
Gloves of the same against the briars too.
A goat-skin head-piece he had on to boot.
Ulysses, when he saw him in this plight,
Worn out with age, and so much sorrow to it,
Under a tree stood weeping out of sight.
And then bethought him whether it were best
T' embrace and kiss him, and directly say,
I am Ulysses, or first talk in jest,
And give him time his person to survey.
Resolved at last, his father he goes nigh,
Who with his head down, digg'd about a plant.
Old man, said he, your skill is good. For why,
Your garden neither art nor care does want.
Nor plant, nor fig, nor vine, nor olive-tree,
Nor so much as a leek but prospers here.
One thing there wants (I pray not angry be);
You look not to yourself. III cloathes you wear,
And also pale and yellow is your hue,
Which cannot be imputed to being aged.
'Tis not because you do no work, that you
He little sets by that has you engaged;
There's nothing in your aspect of a slave.
The look and stature you have of a king,
And the appearance of a king would have,
If you, what's due to age had ev'ry thing.
Whose servant are you, and who owns the ground ?
And say if this be Ithaca or no;
For this man whom upon the way I found,
Is not so wise as certainly to know?
I ask'd him of a friend that I had here,
Whether alive he were or dead. But he;
Whether he dead, or living still he were,
Unable was at all to answer me.
My house a stranger on a time was at,
Which of all strangers I did love the best;
That said he came from Ithaca, and that
Laertes was his father's name. This guest
I entertained as kindly as I could,
With viands good, whereof I had good store;
And gave him talents ten of well-wrought gold,
And beside that I gave him these gifts more:
A pot for tempered wine of silver bright;
Twelve carpets fair; twelve robes; twelve coats that were
All lined through ; and twelve more that were light;
And four maid-servants, both well taught and fair,
Such as he from a greater number chose.
Then said Laertes, Ithaca this is,
Now held by wicked men. But you will lose
Your presents all, and of requital miss.
But had you found my son Ulysses here,
He would have kept of amity the law,
And well requited both your gifts and cheer.
But say, how long it is since you last saw
And entertain'd my son, if yet he be;
But he at sea devoured is by fish
Far hence, or else to beasts and fowls is he
Somewhere, poor man, at land become a dish;
Neither his father nor his mother by,
To wind him and to shed tears o'er his bed;
Nor yet his wife weeping to close his eye,
Which are the honours due unto the dead.
Tell me also your dwelling and your name,
Your parents and your city what they be;
And where the good ship lies in which you came,
And what men with you came in company,
Or with some merchants in their ship, and they
Departing hence have left you here alone ?
To this Ulysses answering did say,
I'll answer to your questions each one.
My city's Alybas, and of the same
Apherdas is the king. His son am I,
And called am Eperitus by name.
Far hence at the land's end my ship doth lie.
And since Ulysses from me went away,
'Tis now five years, and with good augury
That we should meet again another day,
And joy in mutual hospitality.
This said, Laertes, overcome with woe,
Took up the scalding dust with both his hands,
And pour'd the same upon his head of snow,
And sobbing thick and weeping there he stands.
Ulysses' heart up to his nostrils swell'd
With pity to behold his father's woe,
And to him leapt; and's arms about him held,
And said, The man you weep and mourn for so
Am I, come after twenty years again.
Give over sobbing now ; for, though in haste,
I tell you must, the suitors I have slain,
And made them of their crimes the fruit to taste.
Then said Laertes, If indeed you be
My son Ulysses, let me see some sign
To know you by for certain. Then, said he,
Behold the wound received from the swine
On Mount Parnassus, when I thither went
T' Autolycus my mother's father, to
Receive the gifts he promis'd me. You sent
Me thither, and so did my mother too.
Ill tell you too what trees you gave me when
I walking once was with you there. And I
Ask'd you of all the trees the names (for then
'Twixt man and boy I was). And severally
As I the trees' names ask'd, you told the same.
Pear-trees thirteen; apple-trees half a score ;
Rankles fifty (to the vines you gave that name);
All of them in their season berries bore;
And forty fig trees. Th' old man knew it all;
Embraced his son, and with abundant joy
Fainted, and sinking ready was to fall,
But that his son's embraces were his stay.
Then coming to himself again he said:
Jove, father, and you Gods (Gods there are yet!)
The suitors for their evil deeds have paid,
But now I fear the town will on us set,
And with themselves make all the city rise
In Cephalenia. Then said his son,
Fear not. Of that we'll by and by advise.
Eumaeus and Philœtius are gone
To get a supper ready at your house.
This said, into the house they come away,
And find Eumaeus and Philœtius
At work to cut out meat, and wine allay.
Meanwhile Laertes oil'd and bathed is,
And by his maid in seemly garments clad,
And Pallas, standing by him, added this,
A larger stature than before he had.
As of a God his presence did appear.
Ulysses seeing him, admir'd, and said:
Father, you greater now are than you were,
Some God has beauty on your person laid.
Then said Laertes, O ye Gods on high,
Jove, Pallas, and Apollo, had I been
Such as I was at Neritus, when I
Stormed the town, and armed had come in
When you and the proud suitors were in fight,
I had made many of them bend the knee;
And you would have rejoic'd at the sight.
So to his son Ulysses talked he.
Supper brought in, they sit; and then came in
Old Dolius, sent for, from his husbandry,
And his sons, weary. Working they had been.
The nurse had bidden them come speedily.
They wondered to see Ulysses there;
But he to Dolius then gently said,
Pray for awhile your wond'ring to forbear;
We hungry are, and long have for you staid.
Then Dolius embraced him, and said,
Since long'd for you are come, and unexpected,
And to us by the Gods have been conveyed;
All hail, and by the Gods be still protected.
But tell me if Penelope yet have
The news received of your coming home,
Or shall we send her word? That labour save,
Replied Ulysses, for she knows I'm come.
This said, he sat him down. His sons also,
With decent words, Ulysses entertain,
And lay their hands in his. That done, they go,
And by their father sat them down again.
Now fame divulged had the suitors' fate;
And people howling, came in ev'ry way,
And gathered whereabout Ulysses' gate,
To fetch the bodies of the dead away.
And those that out of Ithaca had liv'd,
To fishermen they gave to carry home.
And staying on the place, though sorely griev'd,
Amongst themselves they into counsel come.
Eupeithes, father of Antinous,
That first of all slain by Ulysses was,
Spake first, and weeping for his son, said thus:
See how much mischief this man done us has.
He carried hence our ships, and ablest men;
And lost them all, as one that had designed
Our utter ruin. Coming back agen,
He killed bath those whom he left behind.
Come then, let's to him quickly, lest meanwhile
He should pass over the wide sea, and get
Protection at Elis, or at Pyle,
And we so sham'd as we were never yet.
'Twill be a scorn to our posterity
To let the murder of our children so
Stay unrevenged, and put up cowardly.
For my part, to my grave I'd rather go.
Come quickly then, lest we prevented be.
This said, the people for him pity had.
Then came in Medon, who had scaped free,
And Phemius that scap'd too, and was glad.
And Medon to th'assembly spake, and said,
Ulysses of himself could not have done
This mighty deed without th' Immortals' aid.
I saw, when present I was looking on,
A God stand by that him encouraged,
In Mentor's shape he plainly did appear;
And then about the room the suitors fled,
And fell before Ulysses in their fear.
Next him spake Alitherses, who alone
Saw fore and aft. Hear me, you men, said he;
Of this great slaughter I accuse can none,
But even yourselves that gave no ear to me,
Nor yet to Mentor. We you counselled
The licence of your children to take down,
That spent the substance, and dishonoured
The wife of him that was of such renown.
My counsel, therefore, to you now is this,
Not to proceed, lest on yourselves you bring
More mischief yet, and of your purpose miss.
So said he then, but little profiting;
For more than half with alalaes up start,
And cry aloud, To arms, go on, proceed!
But quietly sat still the lesser part,
That with Eupeithes'judgment disagreed..
When they had clad themselves in glist'ning brass,
Without the town they came to rendezvous
In open field. Eupeithes leader was,
Seeking revenge where he his life shall lose.
Then Pallas to her father came, and said,
O father, king of kings, what do you mean,
The war shall last between them, or be staid?
To this her father answer'd her agen:
Child, why d'ye ask me that? 'twas your request
The suitors for their insolence should pay.
Do what you please, but yet I think it best,
When you have done, that peace for ever stay;
And ever reign Ulysses and his race.
Which to confirm, oblivion I'll send
Of former acts the image to deface.
Then gladly Pallas did from heaven descend.
When now Ulysses and his company
Removed had their hunger with good cheer,
Ulysses said, Some one go forth and see
Whether the Ithacesians be near.
And then one of the young men standing there,
Went forth and saw them as he pass'd the sill:
And turning back, Arm, said he, they are here!
And then they all put on their arms of steel.
Ulysses and his son, and servants four,
Six sons of Dolius. And the old men,
Laertes, and Dolius, were two more.
Aged they were, but necessary then.
Then arm'd, Ulysses leading, out they go.
And Pallas, both in person and in voice
Resembling Mentor, in came to them too.
Ulysses seeing her did much rejoice.
And looking on Telemachus, he said,
Telemachus, this battle will declare
Who courage has, who not. Be not afraid:
That you dishonour not your stock beware.
Father, said he, you shall see by-and-bye,
You need not be ashamed of your son.
Laertes this discourse heard joyfully,
And to the Gods cried out in passion,
O ye kind Gods, and happy day is this!
O joy! My son and grandson are at strife
Which of the two the most courageous is,
And ready to buy honour with his life.
Then Pallas to Laertes said, My friend,
Son of Arcesius, whom the Gods do love,
With all your force your spear now from you send.
But pray first unto Pallas and to Jove.
He pray'd, and threw his spear, which th'helmet smote
Of old Eupeithes, and went into's head.
Down dead he fell, the helmet sav'd him not.
His armour rattled, and his spirit fled.
And then fell on Ulysses and his son,
Upon the foremost, both with sword and spear,
And surely had destroyed them ev'ry one,
Had not Jove's daughter, Pallas, then been there.
She to the people call'd aloud, and said,
Hold Ithacesians; the quarrel may
Without more blood be ended. They, afra i
Of th' heavenly voice, began to run away.
Ulysses yet not ceased to pursue
The captains of his foes, till from above,
In thunder, Jove his sooty bolt down threw.
Then Pallas said, Beware; offend not Jove;
And glad was then Ulysses to give o'er.
By Pallas were propounded terms of peace,
In Mentor's shape, and each part to them swore.
And thus it was agreed the war should cease.
FINIS.