Long since
A stranger reach'd my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv'd,
Nor ever sojourn'd foreigner with me
Whom I lov'd more.
A stranger reach'd my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv'd,
Nor ever sojourn'd foreigner with me
Whom I lov'd more.
Odyssey - Cowper
He sat opposite, illumed
By the hearth's sprightly blaze, and close before
A pillar of the dome, waiting with eyes
Downcast, till viewing him, his noble spouse
Should speak to him; but she sat silent long,
Her faculties in mute amazement held.
By turns she riveted her eyes on his,
And, seeing him so foul attired, by turns
She recognized him not; then spake her son
Telemachus, and her silence thus reprov'd. 110
My mother! ah my hapless and my most
Obdurate mother! wherefore thus aloof
Shunn'st thou my father, neither at his side
Sitting affectionate, nor utt'ring word?
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return'd
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After much hardship; but thy heart is still
As ever, less impressible than stone,
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. 120
I am all wonder, O my son; my soul
Is stunn'd within me; pow'r to speak to him
Or to interrogate him have I none,
Or ev'n to look on him; but if indeed
He be Ulysses, and have reach'd his home,
I shall believe it soon, by proof convinced
Of signs known only to himself and me.
She said; then smiled the Hero toil-inured,
And in wing'd accents thus spake to his son.
Leave thou, Telemachus, thy mother here 130
To sift and prove me; she will know me soon
More certainly; she sees me ill-attired
And squalid now; therefore she shews me scorn,
And no belief hath yet that I am he.
But we have need, thou and myself, of deep
Deliberation. If a man have slain
One only citizen, who leaves behind
Few interested to avenge his death,
Yet, flying, he forsakes both friends and home;
But we have slain the noblest Princes far 140
Of Ithaca, on whom our city most
Depended; therefore, I advise thee, think!
Him, prudent, then answer'd Telemachus.
Be that thy care, my father! for report
Proclaims _thee_ shrewdest of mankind, with whom
In ingenuity may none compare.
Lead thou; to follow thee shall be our part
With prompt alacrity; nor shall, I judge,
Courage be wanting to our utmost force.
Thus then replied Ulysses, ever-wise. 150
To me the safest counsel and the best
Seems this. First wash yourselves, and put ye on
Your tunics; bid ye, next, the maidens take
Their best attire, and let the bard divine
Harping melodious play a sportive dance,
That, whether passenger or neighbour near,
All may imagine nuptials held within.
So shall not loud report that we have slain
All those, alarm the city, till we gain
Our woods and fields, where, once arriv'd, such plans 160
We will devise, as Jove shall deign to inspire.
He spake, and all, obedient, in the bath
First laved themselves, then put their tunics on;
The damsels also dress'd, and the sweet bard,
Harping melodious, kindled strong desire
In all, of jocund song and graceful dance.
The palace under all its vaulted roof
Remurmur'd to the feet of sportive youths
And cinctured maidens, while no few abroad,
Hearing such revelry within, remark'd-- 170
The Queen with many wooers, weds at last.
Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail
Always to keep inviolate the house
Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.
So spake the people; but they little knew
What had befall'n. Eurynome, meantime,
With bath and unction serv'd the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, and he saw himself attired
Royally once again in his own house.
Then, Pallas over all his features shed 180
Superior beauty, dignified his form
With added amplitude, and pour'd his curls
Like hyacinthine flow'rs down from his brows.
As when some artist by Minerva made
And Vulcan, wise to execute all tasks
Ingenious, borders silver with a wreath
Of gold, accomplishing a graceful work,
Such grace the Goddess o'er his ample chest
Copious diffused, and o'er his manly brows.
He, godlike, stepping from the bath, resumed 190
His former seat magnificent, and sat
Opposite to the Queen, to whom he said.
Penelope! the Gods to thee have giv'n
Of all thy sex, the most obdurate heart.
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return'd
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After such hardship. But prepare me, nurse,
A bed, for solitary I must sleep,
Since she is iron, and feels not for me. 200
Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.
I neither magnify thee, sir! nor yet
Depreciate thee, nor is my wonder such
As hurries me at once into thy arms,
Though my remembrance perfectly retains,
Such as he was, Ulysses, when he sail'd
On board his bark from Ithaca--Go, nurse,
Prepare his bed, but not within the walls
Of his own chamber built with his own hands.
Spread it without, and spread it well with warm 210
Mantles, with fleeces, and with richest rugs.
So spake she, proving him,[108] and not untouch'd
With anger at that word, thus he replied.
Penelope, that order grates my ear.
Who hath displaced my bed? The task were hard
E'en to an artist; other than a God
None might with ease remove it; as for man,
It might defy the stoutest in his prime
Of youth, to heave it to a different spot.
For in that bed elaborate, a sign, 220
A special sign consists; I was myself
The artificer; I fashion'd it alone.
Within the court a leafy olive grew
Lofty, luxuriant, pillar-like in girth.
Around this tree I built, with massy stones
Cemented close, my chamber, roof'd it o'er,
And hung the glutinated portals on.
I lopp'd the ample foliage and the boughs,
And sev'ring near the root its solid bole,
Smooth'd all the rugged stump with skilful hand, 230
And wrought it to a pedestal well squared
And modell'd by the line. I wimbled, next,
The frame throughout, and from the olive-stump
Beginning, fashion'd the whole bed above
Till all was finish'd, plated o'er with gold,
With silver, and with ivory, and beneath
Close interlaced with purple cordage strong.
Such sign I give thee. But if still it stand
Unmoved, or if some other, sev'ring sheer
The olive from its bottom, have displaced 240
My bed--that matter is best known to thee.
He ceas'd; she, conscious of the sign so plain
Giv'n by Ulysses, heard with flutt'ring heart
And fault'ring knees that proof. Weeping she ran
Direct toward him, threw her arms around
The Hero, kiss'd his forehead, and replied.
Ah my Ulysses! pardon me--frown not--
Thou, who at other times hast ever shewn
Superior wisdom! all our griefs have flow'd
From the Gods' will; they envied us the bliss 250
Of undivided union sweet enjoy'd
Through life, from early youth to latest age.
No. Be not angry now; pardon the fault
That I embraced thee not as soon as seen,
For horror hath not ceased to overwhelm
My soul, lest some false alien should, perchance,
Beguile me, for our house draws num'rous such.
Jove's daughter, Argive Helen, ne'er had given
Free entertainment to a stranger's love,
Had she foreknown that the heroic sons 260
Of Greece would bring her to her home again.
But heav'n incited her to that offence,
Who never, else, had even in her thought
Harbour'd the foul enormity, from which
Originated even our distress.
But now, since evident thou hast described
Our bed, which never mortal yet beheld,
Ourselves except and Actoris my own
Attendant, giv'n me when I left my home
By good Icarius, and who kept the door, 270
Though hard to be convinced, at last I yield.
So saying, she awaken'd in his soul
Pity and grief; and folding in his arms
His blameless consort beautiful, he wept.
Welcome as land appears to those who swim,
Whose gallant bark Neptune with rolling waves
And stormy winds hath sunk in the wide sea,
A mariner or two, perchance, escape
The foamy flood, and, swimming, reach the land,
Weary indeed, and with incrusted brine 280
All rough, but oh, how glad to climb the coast!
So welcome in her eyes Ulysses seem'd,
Around whose neck winding her snowy arms,
She clung as she would loose him never more.
Thus had they wept till rosy-finger'd morn
Had found them weeping, but Minerva check'd
Night's almost finish'd course, and held, meantime,
The golden dawn close pris'ner in the Deep,
Forbidding her to lead her coursers forth,
Lampus and Phaeton that furnish light 290
To all the earth, and join them to the yoke.
Then thus, Ulysses to Penelope.
My love; we have not yet attain'd the close
Of all our sufferings, but unmeasured toil
Arduous remains, which I must still atchieve.
For so the spirit of the Theban seer
Inform'd me, on that day, when to enquire
Of mine and of my people's safe return
I journey'd down to Pluto's drear abode.
But let us hence to bed, there to enjoy 300
Tranquil repose. My love, make no delay.
Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.
Thou shalt to bed at whatsoever time
Thy soul desires, since the immortal Gods
Give thee to me and to thy home again.
But, thou hast spoken from the seer of Thebes
Of arduous toils yet unperform'd; declare
What toils? Thou wilt disclose them, as I judge,
Hereafter, and why not disclose them now?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 310
Ah conversant with woe! why would'st thou learn
That tale? but I will tell it thee at large.
Thou wilt not hear with joy, nor shall myself
With joy rehearse it; for he bade me seek
City after city, bearing, as I go,
A shapely oar, till I shall find, at length,
A people who the sea know not, nor eat
Food salted; they trim galley crimson-prow'd
Have ne'er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar
With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves. 320
He gave me also this authentic sign,
Which I will tell thee. In what place soe'er
I chance to meet a trav'ler who shall name
The oar on my broad shoulder borne, a van;[109]
He bade me, planting it on the same spot,
Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,
A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek
My home again, and sacrifice at home
An hecatomb to the immortal Gods
Inhabitants of the expanse above. 330
So shall I die, at length, the gentlest death
Remote from Ocean; it shall find me late,
In soft serenity of age, the Chief
Of a blest people. --Thus he prophesied.
Him answer'd then Penelope discrete.
If heav'n appoint thee in old age a lot
More tranquil, hope thence springs of thy escape
Some future day from all thy threaten'd woes.
Such was their mutual conf'rence sweet; meantime
Eurynome and Euryclea dress'd 340
Their bed by light of the clear torch, and when
Dispatchful they had spread it broad and deep,
The ancient nurse to her own bed retired.
Then came Eurynome, to whom in trust
The chambers appertain'd, and with a torch
Conducted them to rest; she introduced
The happy pair, and went; transported they
To rites connubial intermitted long,
And now recover'd, gave themselves again. [110]
Meantime, the Prince, the herdsman, and the good 350
Eumaeus, giving rest each to his feet,
Ceased from the dance; they made the women cease
Also, and to their sev'ral chambers all
Within the twilight edifice repair'd.
At length, with conjugal endearment both
Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse
The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed,
Noblest of women, all her num'rous woes
Beneath that roof sustain'd, while she beheld
The profligacy of the suitor-throng, 360
Who in their wooing had consumed his herds
And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry;
While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her
Related his successes and escapes,
And his afflictions also; he told her all;
She listen'd charm'd, nor slumber on his eyes
Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole.
Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first
He conquer'd in Ciconia, and thence reach'd
The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi; 370
The Cyclops' deeds he told her next, and how
He well avenged on him his slaughter'd friends
Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour'd.
How to the isle of AEolus he came,
Who welcom'd him and safe dismiss'd him thence,
Although not destin'd to regain so soon
His native land; for o'er the fishy deep
Loud tempests snatch'd him sighing back again.
How, also at Telepylus he arrived,
Town of the Laestrygonians, who destroyed 380
His ships with all their mariners, his own
Except, who in his sable bark escaped.
Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill'd
In various artifice, and how he reach'd
With sails and oars the squalid realms of death,
Desirous to consult the prophet there
Theban Tiresias, and how there he view'd
All his companions, and the mother bland
Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years.
How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain 390
All chiming sweet, and how he reach'd the rocks
Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire,
Which none secure from injury may pass.
Then, how the partners of his voyage slew
The Sun's own beeves, and how the Thund'rer Jove
Hurl'd down his smoky bolts into his bark,
Depriving him at once of all his crew,
Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped.
How to Ogygia's isle he came, where dwelt
The nymph Calypso, who, enamour'd, wish'd 400
To espouse him, and within her spacious grot
Detain'd, and fed, and promis'd him a life
Exempt for ever from the sap of age,
But him moved not. How, also, he arrived
After much toil, on the Phaeacian coast,
Where ev'ry heart revered him as a God,
And whence, enriching him with brass and gold,
And costly raiment first, they sent him home.
At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet
Fell on him, dissipating all his cares. 410
Meantime, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,
On other thoughts intent, soon as she deem'd
Ulysses with connubial joys sufficed,
And with sweet sleep, at once from Ocean rous'd
The golden-axled chariot of the morn
To illumine earth. Then from his fleecy couch
The Hero sprang, and thus his spouse enjoined.
Oh consort dear! already we have striv'n
Against our lot, till wearied with the toil,
My painful absence, thou with ceaseless tears 420
Deploring, and myself in deep distress
Withheld reluctant from my native shores
By Jove and by the other pow'rs of heav'n.
But since we have in this delightful bed
Met once again, watch thou and keep secure
All my domestic treasures, and ere long
I will replace my num'rous sheep destroy'd
By those imperious suitors, and the Greeks
Shall add yet others till my folds be fill'd.
But to the woodlands go I now--to see 430
My noble father, who for my sake mourns
Continual; as for thee, my love, although
I know thee wise, I give thee thus in charge.
The sun no sooner shall ascend, than fame
Shall wide divulge the deed that I have done,
Slaying the suitors under my own roof.
Thou, therefore, with thy maidens, sit retired
In thy own chamber at the palace-top,
Nor question ask, nor, curious, look abroad.
He said, and cov'ring with his radiant arms 440
His shoulders, called Telemachus; he roused
Eumaeus and the herdsman too, and bade
All take their martial weapons in their hand.
Not disobedient they, as he enjoin'd,
Put armour on, and issued from the gates
Ulysses at their head. The earth was now
Enlighten'd, but Minerva them in haste
Led forth into the fields, unseen by all.
FOOTNOTES:
[108] The proof consisted in this--that the bed being attached to the
stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable, and Ulysses having
made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the
impossibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses; accordingly, this
demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples.
[109] See the note on the same passage, Book XI.
[110] Aristophanes the grammarian and Aristarchus chose that the Odyssey
should end here; but the story is not properly concluded till the tumult
occasioned by the slaughter of so many Princes being composed, Ulysses
finds himself once more in peaceful possession of his country.
BOOK XXIV
ARGUMENT
Mercury conducts the souls of the suitors down to Ades. Ulysses discovers
himself to Laertes, and quells, by the aid of Minerva, an insurrection of
the people resenting the death of the suitors.
And now Cyllenian Hermes summon'd forth
The spirits of the suitors; waving wide
The golden wand of pow'r to seal all eyes
In slumber, and to ope them wide again,
He drove them gibb'ring down into the shades,[111]
As when the bats within some hallow'd cave
Flit squeaking all around, for if but one
Fall from the rock, the rest all follow him,
In such connexion mutual they adhere,
So, after bounteous Mercury, the ghosts, 10
Troop'd downward gibb'ring all the dreary way. [111]
The Ocean's flood and the Leucadian rock,
The Sun's gate also and the land of Dreams
They pass'd, whence, next, into the meads they came
Of Asphodel, by shadowy forms possess'd,
Simulars of the dead. They found the souls
Of brave Pelides there, and of his friend
Patroclus, of Antilochus renown'd,
And of the mightier Ajax, for his form
And bulk (Achilles sole except) of all 20
The sons of the Achaians most admired.
These waited on Achilles. Then, appear'd
The mournful ghost of Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus, compass'd by the ghosts of all
Who shared his fate beneath AEgisthus' roof,
And him the ghost of Peleus' son bespake.
Atrides! of all Heroes we esteem'd
Thee dearest to the Gods, for that thy sway
Extended over such a glorious host
At Ilium, scene of sorrow to the Greeks. 30
But Fate, whose ruthless force none may escape
Of all who breathe, pursued thee from the first.
Thou should'st have perish'd full of honour, full
Of royalty, at Troy; so all the Greeks
Had rais'd thy tomb, and thou hadst then bequeath'd
Great glory to thy son; but Fate ordain'd
A death, oh how deplorable! for thee.
To whom Atrides' spirit thus replied.
Blest son of Peleus, semblance of the Gods,
At Ilium, far from Argos, fall'n! for whom 40
Contending, many a Trojan, many a Chief
Of Greece died also, while in eddies whelm'd
Of dust thy vastness spread the plain,[112] nor thee
The chariot aught or steed could int'rest more!
All day we waged the battle, nor at last
Desisted, but for tempests sent from Jove.
At length we bore into the Greecian fleet
Thy body from the field; there, first, we cleansed
With tepid baths and oil'd thy shapely corse,
Then placed thee on thy bier, while many a Greek 50
Around thee wept, and shore his locks for thee.
Thy mother, also, hearing of thy death
With her immortal nymphs from the abyss
Arose and came; terrible was the sound
On the salt flood; a panic seized the Greeks,
And ev'ry warrior had return'd on board
That moment, had not Nestor, ancient Chief,
Illumed by long experience, interposed,
His counsels, ever wisest, wisest proved
Then also, and he thus address'd the host. 60
Sons of Achaia; fly not; stay, ye Greeks!
Thetis arrives with her immortal nymphs
From the abyss, to visit her dead son.
So he; and, by his admonition stay'd,
The Greeks fled not. Then, all around thee stood
The daughters of the Ancient of the Deep,
Mourning disconsolate; with heav'nly robes
They clothed thy corse, and all the Muses nine
Deplored thee in full choir with sweetest tones
Responsive, nor one Greecian hadst thou seen 70
Dry-eyed, such grief the Muses moved in all.
Full sev'nteen days we, day and night, deplored
Thy death, both Gods in heav'n and men below,
But, on the eighteenth day, we gave thy corse
Its burning, and fat sheep around thee slew
Num'rous, with many a pastur'd ox moon-horn'd.
We burn'd thee clothed in vesture of the Gods,
With honey and with oil feeding the flames
Abundant, while Achaia's Heroes arm'd,
Both horse and foot, encompassing thy pile, 80
Clash'd on their shields, and deaf'ning was the din.
But when the fires of Vulcan had at length
Consumed thee, at the dawn we stored thy bones
In unguent and in undiluted wine;
For Thetis gave to us a golden vase
Twin-ear'd, which she profess'd to have received
From Bacchus, work divine of Vulcan's hand.
Within that vase, Achilles, treasured lie
Thine and the bones of thy departed friend
Patroclus, but a sep'rate urn we gave 90
To those of brave Antilochus, who most
Of all thy friends at Ilium shared thy love
And thy respect, thy friend Patroclus slain.
Around both urns we piled a noble tomb,
(We warriors of the sacred Argive host)
On a tall promontory shooting far
Into the spacious Hellespont, that all
Who live, and who shall yet be born, may view
Thy record, even from the distant waves.
Then, by permission from the Gods obtain'd, 100
To the Achaian Chiefs in circus met
Thetis appointed games. I have beheld
The burial rites of many an Hero bold,
When, on the death of some great Chief, the youths
Girding their loins anticipate the prize,
But sight of those with wonder fill'd me most,
So glorious past all others were the games
By silver-footed Thetis giv'n for thee,
For thou wast ever favour'd of the Gods.
Thus, hast thou not, Achilles! although dead, 110
Foregone thy glory, but thy fair report
Is universal among all mankind;
But, as for me, what recompense had I,
My warfare closed? for whom, at my return,
Jove framed such dire destruction by the hands
Of fell AEgisthus and my murth'ress wife.
Thus, mutual, they conferr'd; meantime approach'd,
Swift messenger of heav'n, the Argicide,
Conducting thither all the shades of those
Slain by Ulysses. At that sight amazed 120
Both moved toward them. Agamemnon's shade
Knew well Amphimedon, for he had been
Erewhile his father's guest in Ithaca,
And thus the spirit of Atreus' son began.
Amphimedon! by what disastrous chance,
Cooevals as ye seem, and of an air
Distinguish'd all, descend ye to the Deeps?
For not the chosen youths of a whole town
Should form a nobler band. Perish'd ye sunk
Amid vast billows and rude tempests raised 130
By Neptune's pow'r? or on dry land through force
Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off
Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away?
Or fighting for your city and your wives?
Resolve me? I was once a guest of yours.
Remember'st not what time at your abode
With godlike Menelaus I arrived,
That we might win Ulysses with his fleet
To follow us to Troy? scarce we prevail'd
At last to gain the city-waster Chief, 140
And, after all, consumed a whole month more
The wide sea traversing from side to side.
To whom the spirit of Amphimedon.
Illustrious Agamemnon, King of men!
All this I bear in mind, and will rehearse
The manner of our most disastrous end.
Believing brave Ulysses lost, we woo'd
Meantime his wife; she our detested suit
Would neither ratify nor yet refuse,
But, planning for us a tremendous death, 150
This novel stratagem, at last, devised.
Beginning, in her own recess, a web
Of slend'rest thread, and of a length and breadth
Unusual, thus the suitors she address'd.
Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief
Ulysses is no more, enforce not yet
My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first
A fun'ral robe (lest all my threads decay)
Which for the ancient Hero I prepare,
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour 160
When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;
Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,
Should he so wealthy, want at last a shroud.
So spake the Queen; we, unsuspicious all,
With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day
She wove the ample web, and by the aid
Of torches ravell'd it again at night.
Three years she thus by artifice our suit
Eluded safe, but when the fourth arrived,
And the same season, after many moons 170
And fleeting days, return'd, a damsel then
Of her attendants, conscious of the fraud,
Reveal'd it, and we found her pulling loose
The splendid web. Thus, through constraint, at length,
She finish'd it, and in her own despight.
But when the Queen produced, at length, her work
Finish'd, new-blanch'd, bright as the sun or moon,
Then came Ulysses, by some adverse God
Conducted, to a cottage on the verge
Of his own fields, in which his swine-herd dwells; 180
There also the illustrious Hero's son
Arrived soon after, in his sable bark
From sandy Pylus borne; they, plotting both
A dreadful death for all the suitors, sought
Our glorious city, but Ulysses last,
And first Telemachus. The father came
Conducted by his swine-herd, and attired
In tatters foul; a mendicant he seem'd,
Time-worn, and halted on a staff. So clad,
And ent'ring on the sudden, he escaped 190
All knowledge even of our eldest there,
And we reviled and smote him; he although
Beneath his own roof smitten and reproach'd,
With patience suffer'd it awhile, but roused
By inspiration of Jove AEgis-arm'd
At length, in concert with his son convey'd
To his own chamber his resplendent arms,
There lodg'd them safe, and barr'd the massy doors
Then, in his subtlety he bade the Queen
A contest institute with bow and rings 200
Between the hapless suitors, whence ensued
Slaughter to all. No suitor there had pow'r
To overcome the stubborn bow that mock'd
All our attempts; and when the weapon huge
At length was offer'd to Ulysses' hands,
With clamour'd menaces we bade the swain
Withhold it from him, plead he as he might;
Telemachus alone with loud command,
Bade give it him, and the illustrious Chief
Receiving in his hand the bow, with ease 210
Bent it, and sped a shaft through all the rings.
Then, springing to the portal steps, he pour'd
The arrows forth, peer'd terrible around,
Pierced King Antinous, and, aiming sure
His deadly darts, pierced others after him,
Till in one common carnage heap'd we lay.
Some God, as plain appear'd, vouchsafed them aid,
Such ardour urged them, and with such dispatch
They slew us on all sides; hideous were heard
The groans of dying men fell'd to the earth 220
With head-strokes rude, and the floor swam with blood.
Such, royal Agamemnon! was the fate
By which we perish'd, all whose bodies lie
Unburied still, and in Ulysses' house,
For tidings none have yet our friends alarm'd
And kindred, who might cleanse from sable gore
Our clotted wounds, and mourn us on the bier,
Which are the rightful privilege of the dead.
Him answer'd, then, the shade of Atreus' son.
Oh happy offspring of Laertes! shrewd 230
Ulysses! matchless valour thou hast shewn
Recov'ring thus thy wife; nor less appears
The virtue of Icarius' daughter wise,
The chaste Penelope, so faithful found
To her Ulysses, husband of her youth.
His glory, by superior merit earn'd,
Shall never die, and the immortal Gods
Shall make Penelope a theme of song
Delightful in the ears of all mankind.
Not such was Clytemnestra, daughter vile 240
Of Tyndarus; she shed her husband's blood,
And shall be chronicled in song a wife
Of hateful memory, by whose offence
Even the virtuous of her sex are shamed.
Thus they, beneath the vaulted roof obscure
Of Pluto's house, conferring mutual stood.
Meantime, descending from the city-gates,
Ulysses, by his son and by his swains
Follow'd, arrived at the delightful farm
Which old Laertes had with strenuous toil 250
Himself long since acquired. There stood his house
Encompass'd by a bow'r in which the hinds
Who served and pleased him, ate, and sat, and slept.
An ancient woman, a Sicilian, dwelt
There also, who in that sequester'd spot
Attended diligent her aged Lord.
Then thus Ulysses to his followers spake.
Haste now, and, ent'ring, slay ye of the swine
The best for our regale; myself, the while,
Will prove my father, if his eye hath still 260
Discernment of me, or if absence long
Have worn the knowledge of me from his mind.
He said, and gave into his servants' care
His arms; they swift proceeded to the house,
And to the fruitful grove himself as swift
To prove his father. Down he went at once
Into the spacious garden-plot, but found
Nor Dolius there, nor any of his sons
Or servants; they were occupied elsewhere,
And, with the ancient hind himself, employ'd 270
Collecting thorns with which to fence the grove.
In that umbrageous spot he found alone
Laertes, with his hoe clearing a plant;
Sordid his tunic was, with many a patch
Mended unseemly; leathern were his greaves,
Thong-tied and also patch'd, a frail defence
Against sharp thorns, while gloves secured his hands
From briar-points, and on his head he bore
A goat-skin casque, nourishing hopeless woe.
No sooner then the Hero toil-inured 280
Saw him age-worn and wretched, than he paused
Beneath a lofty pear-tree's shade to weep.
There standing much he mused, whether, at once,
Kissing and clasping in his arms his sire,
To tell him all, by what means he had reach'd
His native country, or to prove him first.
At length, he chose as his best course, with words
Of seeming strangeness to accost his ear,
And, with that purpose, moved direct toward him.
He, stooping low, loosen'd the earth around 290
A garden-plant, when his illustrious son
Now, standing close beside him, thus began.
Old sir! thou art no novice in these toils
Of culture, but thy garden thrives; I mark
In all thy ground no plant, fig, olive, vine,
Pear-tree or flow'r-bed suff'ring through neglect.
But let it not offend thee if I say
That thou neglect'st thyself, at the same time
Oppress'd with age, sun-parch'd and ill-attired.
Not for thy inactivity, methinks, 300
Thy master slights thee thus, nor speaks thy form
Or thy surpassing stature servile aught
In thee, but thou resemblest more a King.
Yes--thou resemblest one who, bathed and fed,
Should softly sleep; such is the claim of age.
But tell me true--for whom labourest thou,
And whose this garden? answer me beside,
For I would learn; have I indeed arrived
In Ithaca, as one whom here I met
Ev'n now assured me, but who seem'd a man 310
Not overwise, refusing both to hear
My questions, and to answer when I ask'd
Concerning one in other days my guest
And friend, if he have still his being here,
Or have deceas'd and journey'd to the shades.
For I will tell thee; therefore mark.
Long since
A stranger reach'd my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv'd,
Nor ever sojourn'd foreigner with me
Whom I lov'd more. He was by birth, he said, 320
Ithacan, and Laertes claim'd his sire,
Son of Arcesias. Introducing him
Beneath my roof, I entertain'd him well,
And proved by gifts his welcome at my board.
I gave him seven talents of wrought gold,
A goblet, argent all, with flow'rs emboss'd,
Twelve single cloaks, twelve carpets, mantles twelve
Of brightest lustre, with as many vests,
And added four fair damsels, whom he chose
Himself, well born and well accomplish'd all. 330
Then thus his ancient sire weeping replied.
Stranger! thou hast in truth attain'd the isle
Of thy enquiry, but it is possess'd
By a rude race, and lawless. Vain, alas!
Were all thy num'rous gifts; yet hadst thou found
Him living here in Ithaca, with gifts
Reciprocated he had sent thee hence,
Requiting honourably in his turn
Thy hospitality. But give me quick
Answer and true. How many have been the years 340
Since thy reception of that hapless guest
My son? for mine, my own dear son was he.
But him, far distant both from friends and home,
Either the fishes of the unknown Deep
Have eaten, or wild beasts and fowls of prey,
Nor I, or she who bare him, was ordain'd
To bathe his shrouded body with our tears,
Nor his chaste wife, well-dow'r'd Penelope
To close her husband's eyes, and to deplore
His doom, which is the privilege of the dead. 350
But tell me also thou, for I would learn,
Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?
The bark in which thou and thy godlike friends
Arrived, where is she anchor'd on our coast?
Or cam'st thou only passenger on board
Another's bark, who landed thee and went?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
I will with all simplicity relate
What thou hast ask'd. Of Alybas am I,
Where in much state I dwell, son of the rich 360
Apheidas royal Polypemon's son,
And I am named Eperitus; by storms
Driven from Sicily I have arrived,
And yonder, on the margin of the field
That skirts your city, I have moor'd my bark.
Five years have pass'd since thy Ulysses left,
Unhappy Chief! my country; yet the birds
At his departure hovered on the right,
And in that sign rejoicing, I dismiss'd
Him thence rejoicing also, for we hoped 370
To mix in social intercourse again,
And to exchange once more pledges of love.
He spake; then sorrow as a sable cloud
Involved Laertes; gath'ring with both hands
The dust, he pour'd it on his rev'rend head
With many a piteous groan. Ulysses' heart
Commotion felt, and his stretch'd nostrils throbb'd
With agony close-pent, while fixt he eyed
His father; with a sudden force he sprang
Toward him, clasp'd, and kiss'd him, and exclaim'd. 380
My father! I am he. Thou seest thy son
Absent these twenty years at last return'd.
But bid thy sorrow cease; suspend henceforth
All lamentation; for I tell thee true,
(And the occasion bids me briefly tell thee)
I have slain all the suitors at my home,
And all their taunts and injuries avenged.
Then answer thus Laertes quick return'd.
If thou hast come again, and art indeed
My son Ulysses, give me then the proof 390
Indubitable, that I may believe.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
View, first, the scar which with his iv'ry tusk
A wild boar gave me, when at thy command
And at my mother's, to Autolycus
Her father, on Parnassus, I repair'd
Seeking the gifts which, while a guest of yours,
He promis'd should be mine. Accept beside
This proof. I will enum'rate all the trees
Which, walking with thee in this cultured spot 400
(Boy then) I begg'd, and thou confirm'dst my own.
We paced between them, and thou mad'st me learn
The name of each. Thou gav'st me thirteen pears,[113]
Ten apples,[113] thirty figs,[113] and fifty ranks
Didst promise me of vines, their alleys all
Corn-cropp'd between. There, oft as sent from Jove
The influences of the year descend,
Grapes of all hues and flavours clust'ring hang.
He said; Laertes, conscious of the proofs
Indubitable by Ulysses giv'n, 410
With fault'ring knees and fault'ring heart both arms
Around him threw. The Hero toil-inured
Drew to his bosom close his fainting sire,
Who, breath recov'ring, and his scatter'd pow'rs
Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.
Ye Gods! oh then your residence is still
On the Olympian heights, if punishment
At last hath seized on those flagitious men.
But terrour shakes me, lest, incensed, ere long
All Ithaca flock hither, and dispatch 420
Swift messengers with these dread tidings charged
To ev'ry Cephallenian state around.
Him answer'd then Ulysses ever-wise.
Courage! fear nought, but let us to the house
Beside the garden, whither I have sent
Telemachus, the herdsman, and the good
Eumaeus to prepare us quick repast.
So they conferr'd, and to Laertes' house
Pass'd on together; there arrived, they found
Those three preparing now their plenteous feast, 430
And mingling sable wine; then, by the hands
Of his Sicilian matron, the old King
Was bathed, anointed, and attired afresh,
And Pallas, drawing nigh, dilated more
His limbs, and gave his whole majestic form
Encrease of amplitude. He left the bath.
His son, amazed as he had seen a God
Alighted newly from the skies, exclaim'd.
My father! doubtless some immortal Pow'r
Hath clothed thy form with dignity divine. 440
Then thus replied his venerable sire.
Jove! Pallas! Phoebus! oh that I possess'd
Such vigour now, as when in arms I took
Nericus, continental city fair,
With my brave Cephallenians! oh that such
And arm'd as then, I yesterday had stood
Beside thee in thy palace, combating
Those suitors proud, then had I strew'd the floor
With num'rous slain, to thy exceeding joy.
Such was their conference; and now, the task 450
Of preparation ended, and the feast
Set forth, on couches and on thrones they sat,
And, ranged in order due, took each his share.
Then, ancient Dolius, and with him, his sons
Arrived toil-worn, by the Sicilian dame
Summon'd, their cat'ress, and their father's kind
Attendant ever in his eve of life.
They, seeing and recalling soon to mind
Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood
Wond'ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice 460
Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.
Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear
And mute amazement; for, although provoked
By appetite, we have long time abstain'd,
Expecting ev'ry moment thy return.
He said; then Dolius with expanded arms
Sprang right toward Ulysses, seized his hand,
Kiss'd it, and in wing'd accents thus replied.
Oh master ever dear! since thee the Gods
Themselves in answer to our warm desires, 470
Have, unexpectedly, at length restored,
Hail, and be happy, and heav'n make thee such!
But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen
Already thy return, or shall we send
Ourselves an herald with the joyful news?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My ancient friend, thou may'st release thy mind
From that solicitude; she knows it well.
So he; then Dolius to his glossy seat
Return'd, and all his sons gath'ring around 480
Ulysses, welcom'd him and grasp'd his hand,
Then sat beside their father; thus beneath
Laertes' roof they, joyful, took repast.
But Fame with rapid haste the city roam'd
In ev'ry part, promulging in all ears
The suitors' horrid fate. No sooner heard
The multitude that tale, than one and all
Groaning they met and murmuring before
Ulysses' gates. Bringing the bodies forth,
They buried each his friend, but gave the dead 490
Of other cities to be ferried home
By fishermen on board their rapid barks.
All hasted then to council; sorrow wrung
Their hearts, and, the assembly now convened,
Arising first Eupithes spake, for grief
Sat heavy on his soul, grief for the loss
Of his Antinous by Ulysses slain
Foremost of all, whom mourning, thus he said.
My friends! no trivial fruits the Greecians reap
Of this man's doings. _Those_ he took with him 500
On board his barks, a num'rous train and bold,
Then lost his barks, lost all his num'rous train,
And _these_, our noblest, slew at his return.
Come therefore--ere he yet escape by flight
To Pylus or to noble Elis, realm
Of the Epeans, follow him; else shame
Attends us and indelible reproach.
If we avenge not on these men the blood
Of our own sons and brothers, farewell then
All that makes life desirable; my wish 510
Henceforth shall be to mingle with the shades.
Oh then pursue and seize them ere they fly.
Thus he with tears, and pity moved in all.
Then, Medon and the sacred bard whom sleep
Had lately left, arriving from the house
Of Laertiades, approach'd; amid
The throng they stood; all wonder'd seeing them,
And Medon, prudent senior, thus began.
Hear me, my countrymen! Ulysses plann'd
With no disapprobation of the Gods 520
The deed that ye deplore. I saw, myself,
A Pow'r immortal at the Hero's side,
In semblance just of Mentor; now the God,
In front apparent, led him on, and now,
From side to side of all the palace, urged
To flight the suitors; heaps on heaps they fell.
He said; then terrour wan seiz'd ev'ry cheek,
And Halitherses, Hero old, the son
Of Mastor, who alone among them all
Knew past, and future, prudent, thus began. 530
Now, O ye men of Ithaca! my words
Attentive hear! by your own fault, my friends,
This deed hath been perform'd; for when myself
And noble Mentor counsell'd you to check
The sin and folly of your sons, ye would not.
Great was their wickedness, and flagrant wrong
They wrought, the wealth devouring and the wife
Dishonouring of an illustrious Chief
Whom they deem'd destined never to return.
But hear my counsel. Go not, lest ye draw 540
Disaster down and woe on your own heads.
He ended; then with boist'rous roar (although
Part kept their seats) upsprang the multitude,
For Halitherses pleased them not, they chose
Eupithes' counsel rather; all at once
To arms they flew, and clad in dazzling brass
Before the city form'd their dense array.
Leader infatuate at their head appear'd
Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son
Antinous, but was himself ordain'd 550
To meet his doom, and to return no more.
Then thus Minerva to Saturnian Jove.
Oh father! son of Saturn! Jove supreme!
Declare the purpose hidden in thy breast.
Wilt thou that this hostility proceed,
Or wilt thou grant them amity again?
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
Why asks my daughter? didst thou not design
Thyself, that brave Ulysses coming home
Should slay those profligates? act as thou wilt, 560
But thus I counsel, since the noble Chief
Hath slain the suitors, now let peace ensue
Oath-bound, and reign Ulysses evermore!
The slaughter of their brethren and their sons
To strike from their remembrance, shall be ours.
Let mutual amity, as at the first,
Unite them, and let wealth and peace abound.
So saying, he animated to her task
Minerva prompt before, and from the heights
Olympian down to Ithaca she flew. 570
Meantime Ulysses (for their hunger now
And thirst were sated) thus address'd his hinds.
Look ye abroad, lest haply they approach.
He said, and at his word, forth went a son
Of Dolius; at the gate he stood, and thence
Beholding all that multitude at hand,
In accents wing'd thus to Ulysses spake.
They come--they are already arrived--arm all!
Then, all arising, put their armour on,
Ulysses with his three, and the six sons 580
Of Dolius; Dolius also with the rest,
Arm'd and Laertes, although silver-hair'd,
Warriors perforce. When all were clad alike
In radiant armour, throwing wide the gates
They sallied, and Ulysses led the way.
Then Jove's own daughter Pallas, in the form
And with the voice of Mentor, came in view,
Whom seeing Laertiades rejoiced,
And thus Telemachus, his son, bespake.
Now, oh my son! thou shalt observe, untold 590
By me, where fight the bravest. Oh shame not
Thine ancestry, who have in all the earth
Proof given of valour in all ages past.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
My father! if thou wish that spectacle,
Thou shalt behold thy son, as thou hast said,
In nought dishonouring his noble race.
Then was Laertes joyful, and exclaim'd,
What sun hath ris'n to-day? [114] oh blessed Gods!
My son and grandson emulous dispute 600
The prize of glory, and my soul exults.
He ended, and Minerva drawing nigh
To the old King, thus counsell'd him. Oh friend
Whom most I love, son of Arcesias! pray'r
Preferring to the virgin azure-eyed,
And to her father Jove, delay not, shake
Thy lance in air, and give it instant flight.
So saying, the Goddess nerved his arm anew.
He sought in pray'r the daughter dread of Jove,
And, brandishing it, hurl'd his lance; it struck 610
Eupithes, pierced his helmet brazen-cheek'd
That stay'd it not, but forth it sprang beyond,
And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.
Then flew Ulysses and his noble son
With faulchion and with spear of double edge
To the assault, and of them all had left
None living, none had to his home return'd,
But that Jove's virgin daughter with a voice
Of loud authority thus quell'd them all.
Peace, O ye men of Ithaca! while yet 620
The field remains undeluged with your blood.
So she, and fear at once paled ev'ry cheek.
All trembled at the voice divine; their arms
Escaping from the grasp fell to the earth,
And, covetous of longer life, each fled
Back to the city. Then Ulysses sent
His voice abroad, and with an eagle's force
Sprang on the people; but Saturnian Jove,
Cast down, incontinent, his smouldring bolt
At Pallas' feet, and thus the Goddess spake. 630
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!
Forbear; abstain from slaughter; lest thyself
Incur the anger of high thund'ring Jove.
So Pallas, whom Ulysses, glad, obey'd.
Then faithful covenants of peace between
Both sides ensued, ratified in the sight
Of Pallas progeny of Jove, who seem'd,
In voice and form, the Mentor known to all.
FOOTNOTES:
[111]
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --the ghosts
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
SHAKSPEARE.
[112]
--Behemoth, biggest born of earth,
Upheav'd his vastness.
MILTON.
[113] The fruit is here used for the tree that bore it, as it is in the
Greek; the Latins used the same mode of expression, neither is it
uncommon in our own language.
[114] ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ;--So Cicero, who seems to translate it--Proh
dii immortales! Quis hic illuxit dies! See Clarke in loco.
END OF THE ODYSSEY
NOTES
NOTE I.
Bk. x. l. 101-106 (Hom. x. l. 81-86). --It is held now that this passage
should be explained by the supposition that the Homeric bards had heard
tales of northern latitudes, where, in summer-time, the darkness was so
short that evening was followed almost at once by morning. Thus the
herdsman coming home in the twilight at one day's close might meet and
hail the shepherd who was starting betimes for the next day's work.
Line 86 in the Greek ought probably to be translated, "For the paths of
night and day are close together," _i. e. _, the entrance of day follows
hard on the entrance of night.
NOTE II.
Bk. xi. l. 162, 163 (Hom. xi. l. 134, 135).
By the hearth's sprightly blaze, and close before
A pillar of the dome, waiting with eyes
Downcast, till viewing him, his noble spouse
Should speak to him; but she sat silent long,
Her faculties in mute amazement held.
By turns she riveted her eyes on his,
And, seeing him so foul attired, by turns
She recognized him not; then spake her son
Telemachus, and her silence thus reprov'd. 110
My mother! ah my hapless and my most
Obdurate mother! wherefore thus aloof
Shunn'st thou my father, neither at his side
Sitting affectionate, nor utt'ring word?
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return'd
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After much hardship; but thy heart is still
As ever, less impressible than stone,
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. 120
I am all wonder, O my son; my soul
Is stunn'd within me; pow'r to speak to him
Or to interrogate him have I none,
Or ev'n to look on him; but if indeed
He be Ulysses, and have reach'd his home,
I shall believe it soon, by proof convinced
Of signs known only to himself and me.
She said; then smiled the Hero toil-inured,
And in wing'd accents thus spake to his son.
Leave thou, Telemachus, thy mother here 130
To sift and prove me; she will know me soon
More certainly; she sees me ill-attired
And squalid now; therefore she shews me scorn,
And no belief hath yet that I am he.
But we have need, thou and myself, of deep
Deliberation. If a man have slain
One only citizen, who leaves behind
Few interested to avenge his death,
Yet, flying, he forsakes both friends and home;
But we have slain the noblest Princes far 140
Of Ithaca, on whom our city most
Depended; therefore, I advise thee, think!
Him, prudent, then answer'd Telemachus.
Be that thy care, my father! for report
Proclaims _thee_ shrewdest of mankind, with whom
In ingenuity may none compare.
Lead thou; to follow thee shall be our part
With prompt alacrity; nor shall, I judge,
Courage be wanting to our utmost force.
Thus then replied Ulysses, ever-wise. 150
To me the safest counsel and the best
Seems this. First wash yourselves, and put ye on
Your tunics; bid ye, next, the maidens take
Their best attire, and let the bard divine
Harping melodious play a sportive dance,
That, whether passenger or neighbour near,
All may imagine nuptials held within.
So shall not loud report that we have slain
All those, alarm the city, till we gain
Our woods and fields, where, once arriv'd, such plans 160
We will devise, as Jove shall deign to inspire.
He spake, and all, obedient, in the bath
First laved themselves, then put their tunics on;
The damsels also dress'd, and the sweet bard,
Harping melodious, kindled strong desire
In all, of jocund song and graceful dance.
The palace under all its vaulted roof
Remurmur'd to the feet of sportive youths
And cinctured maidens, while no few abroad,
Hearing such revelry within, remark'd-- 170
The Queen with many wooers, weds at last.
Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail
Always to keep inviolate the house
Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.
So spake the people; but they little knew
What had befall'n. Eurynome, meantime,
With bath and unction serv'd the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, and he saw himself attired
Royally once again in his own house.
Then, Pallas over all his features shed 180
Superior beauty, dignified his form
With added amplitude, and pour'd his curls
Like hyacinthine flow'rs down from his brows.
As when some artist by Minerva made
And Vulcan, wise to execute all tasks
Ingenious, borders silver with a wreath
Of gold, accomplishing a graceful work,
Such grace the Goddess o'er his ample chest
Copious diffused, and o'er his manly brows.
He, godlike, stepping from the bath, resumed 190
His former seat magnificent, and sat
Opposite to the Queen, to whom he said.
Penelope! the Gods to thee have giv'n
Of all thy sex, the most obdurate heart.
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return'd
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After such hardship. But prepare me, nurse,
A bed, for solitary I must sleep,
Since she is iron, and feels not for me. 200
Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.
I neither magnify thee, sir! nor yet
Depreciate thee, nor is my wonder such
As hurries me at once into thy arms,
Though my remembrance perfectly retains,
Such as he was, Ulysses, when he sail'd
On board his bark from Ithaca--Go, nurse,
Prepare his bed, but not within the walls
Of his own chamber built with his own hands.
Spread it without, and spread it well with warm 210
Mantles, with fleeces, and with richest rugs.
So spake she, proving him,[108] and not untouch'd
With anger at that word, thus he replied.
Penelope, that order grates my ear.
Who hath displaced my bed? The task were hard
E'en to an artist; other than a God
None might with ease remove it; as for man,
It might defy the stoutest in his prime
Of youth, to heave it to a different spot.
For in that bed elaborate, a sign, 220
A special sign consists; I was myself
The artificer; I fashion'd it alone.
Within the court a leafy olive grew
Lofty, luxuriant, pillar-like in girth.
Around this tree I built, with massy stones
Cemented close, my chamber, roof'd it o'er,
And hung the glutinated portals on.
I lopp'd the ample foliage and the boughs,
And sev'ring near the root its solid bole,
Smooth'd all the rugged stump with skilful hand, 230
And wrought it to a pedestal well squared
And modell'd by the line. I wimbled, next,
The frame throughout, and from the olive-stump
Beginning, fashion'd the whole bed above
Till all was finish'd, plated o'er with gold,
With silver, and with ivory, and beneath
Close interlaced with purple cordage strong.
Such sign I give thee. But if still it stand
Unmoved, or if some other, sev'ring sheer
The olive from its bottom, have displaced 240
My bed--that matter is best known to thee.
He ceas'd; she, conscious of the sign so plain
Giv'n by Ulysses, heard with flutt'ring heart
And fault'ring knees that proof. Weeping she ran
Direct toward him, threw her arms around
The Hero, kiss'd his forehead, and replied.
Ah my Ulysses! pardon me--frown not--
Thou, who at other times hast ever shewn
Superior wisdom! all our griefs have flow'd
From the Gods' will; they envied us the bliss 250
Of undivided union sweet enjoy'd
Through life, from early youth to latest age.
No. Be not angry now; pardon the fault
That I embraced thee not as soon as seen,
For horror hath not ceased to overwhelm
My soul, lest some false alien should, perchance,
Beguile me, for our house draws num'rous such.
Jove's daughter, Argive Helen, ne'er had given
Free entertainment to a stranger's love,
Had she foreknown that the heroic sons 260
Of Greece would bring her to her home again.
But heav'n incited her to that offence,
Who never, else, had even in her thought
Harbour'd the foul enormity, from which
Originated even our distress.
But now, since evident thou hast described
Our bed, which never mortal yet beheld,
Ourselves except and Actoris my own
Attendant, giv'n me when I left my home
By good Icarius, and who kept the door, 270
Though hard to be convinced, at last I yield.
So saying, she awaken'd in his soul
Pity and grief; and folding in his arms
His blameless consort beautiful, he wept.
Welcome as land appears to those who swim,
Whose gallant bark Neptune with rolling waves
And stormy winds hath sunk in the wide sea,
A mariner or two, perchance, escape
The foamy flood, and, swimming, reach the land,
Weary indeed, and with incrusted brine 280
All rough, but oh, how glad to climb the coast!
So welcome in her eyes Ulysses seem'd,
Around whose neck winding her snowy arms,
She clung as she would loose him never more.
Thus had they wept till rosy-finger'd morn
Had found them weeping, but Minerva check'd
Night's almost finish'd course, and held, meantime,
The golden dawn close pris'ner in the Deep,
Forbidding her to lead her coursers forth,
Lampus and Phaeton that furnish light 290
To all the earth, and join them to the yoke.
Then thus, Ulysses to Penelope.
My love; we have not yet attain'd the close
Of all our sufferings, but unmeasured toil
Arduous remains, which I must still atchieve.
For so the spirit of the Theban seer
Inform'd me, on that day, when to enquire
Of mine and of my people's safe return
I journey'd down to Pluto's drear abode.
But let us hence to bed, there to enjoy 300
Tranquil repose. My love, make no delay.
Him answer'd then prudent Penelope.
Thou shalt to bed at whatsoever time
Thy soul desires, since the immortal Gods
Give thee to me and to thy home again.
But, thou hast spoken from the seer of Thebes
Of arduous toils yet unperform'd; declare
What toils? Thou wilt disclose them, as I judge,
Hereafter, and why not disclose them now?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. 310
Ah conversant with woe! why would'st thou learn
That tale? but I will tell it thee at large.
Thou wilt not hear with joy, nor shall myself
With joy rehearse it; for he bade me seek
City after city, bearing, as I go,
A shapely oar, till I shall find, at length,
A people who the sea know not, nor eat
Food salted; they trim galley crimson-prow'd
Have ne'er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar
With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves. 320
He gave me also this authentic sign,
Which I will tell thee. In what place soe'er
I chance to meet a trav'ler who shall name
The oar on my broad shoulder borne, a van;[109]
He bade me, planting it on the same spot,
Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,
A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek
My home again, and sacrifice at home
An hecatomb to the immortal Gods
Inhabitants of the expanse above. 330
So shall I die, at length, the gentlest death
Remote from Ocean; it shall find me late,
In soft serenity of age, the Chief
Of a blest people. --Thus he prophesied.
Him answer'd then Penelope discrete.
If heav'n appoint thee in old age a lot
More tranquil, hope thence springs of thy escape
Some future day from all thy threaten'd woes.
Such was their mutual conf'rence sweet; meantime
Eurynome and Euryclea dress'd 340
Their bed by light of the clear torch, and when
Dispatchful they had spread it broad and deep,
The ancient nurse to her own bed retired.
Then came Eurynome, to whom in trust
The chambers appertain'd, and with a torch
Conducted them to rest; she introduced
The happy pair, and went; transported they
To rites connubial intermitted long,
And now recover'd, gave themselves again. [110]
Meantime, the Prince, the herdsman, and the good 350
Eumaeus, giving rest each to his feet,
Ceased from the dance; they made the women cease
Also, and to their sev'ral chambers all
Within the twilight edifice repair'd.
At length, with conjugal endearment both
Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse
The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed,
Noblest of women, all her num'rous woes
Beneath that roof sustain'd, while she beheld
The profligacy of the suitor-throng, 360
Who in their wooing had consumed his herds
And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry;
While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her
Related his successes and escapes,
And his afflictions also; he told her all;
She listen'd charm'd, nor slumber on his eyes
Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole.
Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first
He conquer'd in Ciconia, and thence reach'd
The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi; 370
The Cyclops' deeds he told her next, and how
He well avenged on him his slaughter'd friends
Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour'd.
How to the isle of AEolus he came,
Who welcom'd him and safe dismiss'd him thence,
Although not destin'd to regain so soon
His native land; for o'er the fishy deep
Loud tempests snatch'd him sighing back again.
How, also at Telepylus he arrived,
Town of the Laestrygonians, who destroyed 380
His ships with all their mariners, his own
Except, who in his sable bark escaped.
Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill'd
In various artifice, and how he reach'd
With sails and oars the squalid realms of death,
Desirous to consult the prophet there
Theban Tiresias, and how there he view'd
All his companions, and the mother bland
Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years.
How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain 390
All chiming sweet, and how he reach'd the rocks
Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire,
Which none secure from injury may pass.
Then, how the partners of his voyage slew
The Sun's own beeves, and how the Thund'rer Jove
Hurl'd down his smoky bolts into his bark,
Depriving him at once of all his crew,
Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped.
How to Ogygia's isle he came, where dwelt
The nymph Calypso, who, enamour'd, wish'd 400
To espouse him, and within her spacious grot
Detain'd, and fed, and promis'd him a life
Exempt for ever from the sap of age,
But him moved not. How, also, he arrived
After much toil, on the Phaeacian coast,
Where ev'ry heart revered him as a God,
And whence, enriching him with brass and gold,
And costly raiment first, they sent him home.
At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet
Fell on him, dissipating all his cares. 410
Meantime, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,
On other thoughts intent, soon as she deem'd
Ulysses with connubial joys sufficed,
And with sweet sleep, at once from Ocean rous'd
The golden-axled chariot of the morn
To illumine earth. Then from his fleecy couch
The Hero sprang, and thus his spouse enjoined.
Oh consort dear! already we have striv'n
Against our lot, till wearied with the toil,
My painful absence, thou with ceaseless tears 420
Deploring, and myself in deep distress
Withheld reluctant from my native shores
By Jove and by the other pow'rs of heav'n.
But since we have in this delightful bed
Met once again, watch thou and keep secure
All my domestic treasures, and ere long
I will replace my num'rous sheep destroy'd
By those imperious suitors, and the Greeks
Shall add yet others till my folds be fill'd.
But to the woodlands go I now--to see 430
My noble father, who for my sake mourns
Continual; as for thee, my love, although
I know thee wise, I give thee thus in charge.
The sun no sooner shall ascend, than fame
Shall wide divulge the deed that I have done,
Slaying the suitors under my own roof.
Thou, therefore, with thy maidens, sit retired
In thy own chamber at the palace-top,
Nor question ask, nor, curious, look abroad.
He said, and cov'ring with his radiant arms 440
His shoulders, called Telemachus; he roused
Eumaeus and the herdsman too, and bade
All take their martial weapons in their hand.
Not disobedient they, as he enjoin'd,
Put armour on, and issued from the gates
Ulysses at their head. The earth was now
Enlighten'd, but Minerva them in haste
Led forth into the fields, unseen by all.
FOOTNOTES:
[108] The proof consisted in this--that the bed being attached to the
stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable, and Ulysses having
made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the
impossibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses; accordingly, this
demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples.
[109] See the note on the same passage, Book XI.
[110] Aristophanes the grammarian and Aristarchus chose that the Odyssey
should end here; but the story is not properly concluded till the tumult
occasioned by the slaughter of so many Princes being composed, Ulysses
finds himself once more in peaceful possession of his country.
BOOK XXIV
ARGUMENT
Mercury conducts the souls of the suitors down to Ades. Ulysses discovers
himself to Laertes, and quells, by the aid of Minerva, an insurrection of
the people resenting the death of the suitors.
And now Cyllenian Hermes summon'd forth
The spirits of the suitors; waving wide
The golden wand of pow'r to seal all eyes
In slumber, and to ope them wide again,
He drove them gibb'ring down into the shades,[111]
As when the bats within some hallow'd cave
Flit squeaking all around, for if but one
Fall from the rock, the rest all follow him,
In such connexion mutual they adhere,
So, after bounteous Mercury, the ghosts, 10
Troop'd downward gibb'ring all the dreary way. [111]
The Ocean's flood and the Leucadian rock,
The Sun's gate also and the land of Dreams
They pass'd, whence, next, into the meads they came
Of Asphodel, by shadowy forms possess'd,
Simulars of the dead. They found the souls
Of brave Pelides there, and of his friend
Patroclus, of Antilochus renown'd,
And of the mightier Ajax, for his form
And bulk (Achilles sole except) of all 20
The sons of the Achaians most admired.
These waited on Achilles. Then, appear'd
The mournful ghost of Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus, compass'd by the ghosts of all
Who shared his fate beneath AEgisthus' roof,
And him the ghost of Peleus' son bespake.
Atrides! of all Heroes we esteem'd
Thee dearest to the Gods, for that thy sway
Extended over such a glorious host
At Ilium, scene of sorrow to the Greeks. 30
But Fate, whose ruthless force none may escape
Of all who breathe, pursued thee from the first.
Thou should'st have perish'd full of honour, full
Of royalty, at Troy; so all the Greeks
Had rais'd thy tomb, and thou hadst then bequeath'd
Great glory to thy son; but Fate ordain'd
A death, oh how deplorable! for thee.
To whom Atrides' spirit thus replied.
Blest son of Peleus, semblance of the Gods,
At Ilium, far from Argos, fall'n! for whom 40
Contending, many a Trojan, many a Chief
Of Greece died also, while in eddies whelm'd
Of dust thy vastness spread the plain,[112] nor thee
The chariot aught or steed could int'rest more!
All day we waged the battle, nor at last
Desisted, but for tempests sent from Jove.
At length we bore into the Greecian fleet
Thy body from the field; there, first, we cleansed
With tepid baths and oil'd thy shapely corse,
Then placed thee on thy bier, while many a Greek 50
Around thee wept, and shore his locks for thee.
Thy mother, also, hearing of thy death
With her immortal nymphs from the abyss
Arose and came; terrible was the sound
On the salt flood; a panic seized the Greeks,
And ev'ry warrior had return'd on board
That moment, had not Nestor, ancient Chief,
Illumed by long experience, interposed,
His counsels, ever wisest, wisest proved
Then also, and he thus address'd the host. 60
Sons of Achaia; fly not; stay, ye Greeks!
Thetis arrives with her immortal nymphs
From the abyss, to visit her dead son.
So he; and, by his admonition stay'd,
The Greeks fled not. Then, all around thee stood
The daughters of the Ancient of the Deep,
Mourning disconsolate; with heav'nly robes
They clothed thy corse, and all the Muses nine
Deplored thee in full choir with sweetest tones
Responsive, nor one Greecian hadst thou seen 70
Dry-eyed, such grief the Muses moved in all.
Full sev'nteen days we, day and night, deplored
Thy death, both Gods in heav'n and men below,
But, on the eighteenth day, we gave thy corse
Its burning, and fat sheep around thee slew
Num'rous, with many a pastur'd ox moon-horn'd.
We burn'd thee clothed in vesture of the Gods,
With honey and with oil feeding the flames
Abundant, while Achaia's Heroes arm'd,
Both horse and foot, encompassing thy pile, 80
Clash'd on their shields, and deaf'ning was the din.
But when the fires of Vulcan had at length
Consumed thee, at the dawn we stored thy bones
In unguent and in undiluted wine;
For Thetis gave to us a golden vase
Twin-ear'd, which she profess'd to have received
From Bacchus, work divine of Vulcan's hand.
Within that vase, Achilles, treasured lie
Thine and the bones of thy departed friend
Patroclus, but a sep'rate urn we gave 90
To those of brave Antilochus, who most
Of all thy friends at Ilium shared thy love
And thy respect, thy friend Patroclus slain.
Around both urns we piled a noble tomb,
(We warriors of the sacred Argive host)
On a tall promontory shooting far
Into the spacious Hellespont, that all
Who live, and who shall yet be born, may view
Thy record, even from the distant waves.
Then, by permission from the Gods obtain'd, 100
To the Achaian Chiefs in circus met
Thetis appointed games. I have beheld
The burial rites of many an Hero bold,
When, on the death of some great Chief, the youths
Girding their loins anticipate the prize,
But sight of those with wonder fill'd me most,
So glorious past all others were the games
By silver-footed Thetis giv'n for thee,
For thou wast ever favour'd of the Gods.
Thus, hast thou not, Achilles! although dead, 110
Foregone thy glory, but thy fair report
Is universal among all mankind;
But, as for me, what recompense had I,
My warfare closed? for whom, at my return,
Jove framed such dire destruction by the hands
Of fell AEgisthus and my murth'ress wife.
Thus, mutual, they conferr'd; meantime approach'd,
Swift messenger of heav'n, the Argicide,
Conducting thither all the shades of those
Slain by Ulysses. At that sight amazed 120
Both moved toward them. Agamemnon's shade
Knew well Amphimedon, for he had been
Erewhile his father's guest in Ithaca,
And thus the spirit of Atreus' son began.
Amphimedon! by what disastrous chance,
Cooevals as ye seem, and of an air
Distinguish'd all, descend ye to the Deeps?
For not the chosen youths of a whole town
Should form a nobler band. Perish'd ye sunk
Amid vast billows and rude tempests raised 130
By Neptune's pow'r? or on dry land through force
Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off
Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away?
Or fighting for your city and your wives?
Resolve me? I was once a guest of yours.
Remember'st not what time at your abode
With godlike Menelaus I arrived,
That we might win Ulysses with his fleet
To follow us to Troy? scarce we prevail'd
At last to gain the city-waster Chief, 140
And, after all, consumed a whole month more
The wide sea traversing from side to side.
To whom the spirit of Amphimedon.
Illustrious Agamemnon, King of men!
All this I bear in mind, and will rehearse
The manner of our most disastrous end.
Believing brave Ulysses lost, we woo'd
Meantime his wife; she our detested suit
Would neither ratify nor yet refuse,
But, planning for us a tremendous death, 150
This novel stratagem, at last, devised.
Beginning, in her own recess, a web
Of slend'rest thread, and of a length and breadth
Unusual, thus the suitors she address'd.
Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief
Ulysses is no more, enforce not yet
My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first
A fun'ral robe (lest all my threads decay)
Which for the ancient Hero I prepare,
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour 160
When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;
Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,
Should he so wealthy, want at last a shroud.
So spake the Queen; we, unsuspicious all,
With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day
She wove the ample web, and by the aid
Of torches ravell'd it again at night.
Three years she thus by artifice our suit
Eluded safe, but when the fourth arrived,
And the same season, after many moons 170
And fleeting days, return'd, a damsel then
Of her attendants, conscious of the fraud,
Reveal'd it, and we found her pulling loose
The splendid web. Thus, through constraint, at length,
She finish'd it, and in her own despight.
But when the Queen produced, at length, her work
Finish'd, new-blanch'd, bright as the sun or moon,
Then came Ulysses, by some adverse God
Conducted, to a cottage on the verge
Of his own fields, in which his swine-herd dwells; 180
There also the illustrious Hero's son
Arrived soon after, in his sable bark
From sandy Pylus borne; they, plotting both
A dreadful death for all the suitors, sought
Our glorious city, but Ulysses last,
And first Telemachus. The father came
Conducted by his swine-herd, and attired
In tatters foul; a mendicant he seem'd,
Time-worn, and halted on a staff. So clad,
And ent'ring on the sudden, he escaped 190
All knowledge even of our eldest there,
And we reviled and smote him; he although
Beneath his own roof smitten and reproach'd,
With patience suffer'd it awhile, but roused
By inspiration of Jove AEgis-arm'd
At length, in concert with his son convey'd
To his own chamber his resplendent arms,
There lodg'd them safe, and barr'd the massy doors
Then, in his subtlety he bade the Queen
A contest institute with bow and rings 200
Between the hapless suitors, whence ensued
Slaughter to all. No suitor there had pow'r
To overcome the stubborn bow that mock'd
All our attempts; and when the weapon huge
At length was offer'd to Ulysses' hands,
With clamour'd menaces we bade the swain
Withhold it from him, plead he as he might;
Telemachus alone with loud command,
Bade give it him, and the illustrious Chief
Receiving in his hand the bow, with ease 210
Bent it, and sped a shaft through all the rings.
Then, springing to the portal steps, he pour'd
The arrows forth, peer'd terrible around,
Pierced King Antinous, and, aiming sure
His deadly darts, pierced others after him,
Till in one common carnage heap'd we lay.
Some God, as plain appear'd, vouchsafed them aid,
Such ardour urged them, and with such dispatch
They slew us on all sides; hideous were heard
The groans of dying men fell'd to the earth 220
With head-strokes rude, and the floor swam with blood.
Such, royal Agamemnon! was the fate
By which we perish'd, all whose bodies lie
Unburied still, and in Ulysses' house,
For tidings none have yet our friends alarm'd
And kindred, who might cleanse from sable gore
Our clotted wounds, and mourn us on the bier,
Which are the rightful privilege of the dead.
Him answer'd, then, the shade of Atreus' son.
Oh happy offspring of Laertes! shrewd 230
Ulysses! matchless valour thou hast shewn
Recov'ring thus thy wife; nor less appears
The virtue of Icarius' daughter wise,
The chaste Penelope, so faithful found
To her Ulysses, husband of her youth.
His glory, by superior merit earn'd,
Shall never die, and the immortal Gods
Shall make Penelope a theme of song
Delightful in the ears of all mankind.
Not such was Clytemnestra, daughter vile 240
Of Tyndarus; she shed her husband's blood,
And shall be chronicled in song a wife
Of hateful memory, by whose offence
Even the virtuous of her sex are shamed.
Thus they, beneath the vaulted roof obscure
Of Pluto's house, conferring mutual stood.
Meantime, descending from the city-gates,
Ulysses, by his son and by his swains
Follow'd, arrived at the delightful farm
Which old Laertes had with strenuous toil 250
Himself long since acquired. There stood his house
Encompass'd by a bow'r in which the hinds
Who served and pleased him, ate, and sat, and slept.
An ancient woman, a Sicilian, dwelt
There also, who in that sequester'd spot
Attended diligent her aged Lord.
Then thus Ulysses to his followers spake.
Haste now, and, ent'ring, slay ye of the swine
The best for our regale; myself, the while,
Will prove my father, if his eye hath still 260
Discernment of me, or if absence long
Have worn the knowledge of me from his mind.
He said, and gave into his servants' care
His arms; they swift proceeded to the house,
And to the fruitful grove himself as swift
To prove his father. Down he went at once
Into the spacious garden-plot, but found
Nor Dolius there, nor any of his sons
Or servants; they were occupied elsewhere,
And, with the ancient hind himself, employ'd 270
Collecting thorns with which to fence the grove.
In that umbrageous spot he found alone
Laertes, with his hoe clearing a plant;
Sordid his tunic was, with many a patch
Mended unseemly; leathern were his greaves,
Thong-tied and also patch'd, a frail defence
Against sharp thorns, while gloves secured his hands
From briar-points, and on his head he bore
A goat-skin casque, nourishing hopeless woe.
No sooner then the Hero toil-inured 280
Saw him age-worn and wretched, than he paused
Beneath a lofty pear-tree's shade to weep.
There standing much he mused, whether, at once,
Kissing and clasping in his arms his sire,
To tell him all, by what means he had reach'd
His native country, or to prove him first.
At length, he chose as his best course, with words
Of seeming strangeness to accost his ear,
And, with that purpose, moved direct toward him.
He, stooping low, loosen'd the earth around 290
A garden-plant, when his illustrious son
Now, standing close beside him, thus began.
Old sir! thou art no novice in these toils
Of culture, but thy garden thrives; I mark
In all thy ground no plant, fig, olive, vine,
Pear-tree or flow'r-bed suff'ring through neglect.
But let it not offend thee if I say
That thou neglect'st thyself, at the same time
Oppress'd with age, sun-parch'd and ill-attired.
Not for thy inactivity, methinks, 300
Thy master slights thee thus, nor speaks thy form
Or thy surpassing stature servile aught
In thee, but thou resemblest more a King.
Yes--thou resemblest one who, bathed and fed,
Should softly sleep; such is the claim of age.
But tell me true--for whom labourest thou,
And whose this garden? answer me beside,
For I would learn; have I indeed arrived
In Ithaca, as one whom here I met
Ev'n now assured me, but who seem'd a man 310
Not overwise, refusing both to hear
My questions, and to answer when I ask'd
Concerning one in other days my guest
And friend, if he have still his being here,
Or have deceas'd and journey'd to the shades.
For I will tell thee; therefore mark.
Long since
A stranger reach'd my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv'd,
Nor ever sojourn'd foreigner with me
Whom I lov'd more. He was by birth, he said, 320
Ithacan, and Laertes claim'd his sire,
Son of Arcesias. Introducing him
Beneath my roof, I entertain'd him well,
And proved by gifts his welcome at my board.
I gave him seven talents of wrought gold,
A goblet, argent all, with flow'rs emboss'd,
Twelve single cloaks, twelve carpets, mantles twelve
Of brightest lustre, with as many vests,
And added four fair damsels, whom he chose
Himself, well born and well accomplish'd all. 330
Then thus his ancient sire weeping replied.
Stranger! thou hast in truth attain'd the isle
Of thy enquiry, but it is possess'd
By a rude race, and lawless. Vain, alas!
Were all thy num'rous gifts; yet hadst thou found
Him living here in Ithaca, with gifts
Reciprocated he had sent thee hence,
Requiting honourably in his turn
Thy hospitality. But give me quick
Answer and true. How many have been the years 340
Since thy reception of that hapless guest
My son? for mine, my own dear son was he.
But him, far distant both from friends and home,
Either the fishes of the unknown Deep
Have eaten, or wild beasts and fowls of prey,
Nor I, or she who bare him, was ordain'd
To bathe his shrouded body with our tears,
Nor his chaste wife, well-dow'r'd Penelope
To close her husband's eyes, and to deplore
His doom, which is the privilege of the dead. 350
But tell me also thou, for I would learn,
Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?
The bark in which thou and thy godlike friends
Arrived, where is she anchor'd on our coast?
Or cam'st thou only passenger on board
Another's bark, who landed thee and went?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
I will with all simplicity relate
What thou hast ask'd. Of Alybas am I,
Where in much state I dwell, son of the rich 360
Apheidas royal Polypemon's son,
And I am named Eperitus; by storms
Driven from Sicily I have arrived,
And yonder, on the margin of the field
That skirts your city, I have moor'd my bark.
Five years have pass'd since thy Ulysses left,
Unhappy Chief! my country; yet the birds
At his departure hovered on the right,
And in that sign rejoicing, I dismiss'd
Him thence rejoicing also, for we hoped 370
To mix in social intercourse again,
And to exchange once more pledges of love.
He spake; then sorrow as a sable cloud
Involved Laertes; gath'ring with both hands
The dust, he pour'd it on his rev'rend head
With many a piteous groan. Ulysses' heart
Commotion felt, and his stretch'd nostrils throbb'd
With agony close-pent, while fixt he eyed
His father; with a sudden force he sprang
Toward him, clasp'd, and kiss'd him, and exclaim'd. 380
My father! I am he. Thou seest thy son
Absent these twenty years at last return'd.
But bid thy sorrow cease; suspend henceforth
All lamentation; for I tell thee true,
(And the occasion bids me briefly tell thee)
I have slain all the suitors at my home,
And all their taunts and injuries avenged.
Then answer thus Laertes quick return'd.
If thou hast come again, and art indeed
My son Ulysses, give me then the proof 390
Indubitable, that I may believe.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
View, first, the scar which with his iv'ry tusk
A wild boar gave me, when at thy command
And at my mother's, to Autolycus
Her father, on Parnassus, I repair'd
Seeking the gifts which, while a guest of yours,
He promis'd should be mine. Accept beside
This proof. I will enum'rate all the trees
Which, walking with thee in this cultured spot 400
(Boy then) I begg'd, and thou confirm'dst my own.
We paced between them, and thou mad'st me learn
The name of each. Thou gav'st me thirteen pears,[113]
Ten apples,[113] thirty figs,[113] and fifty ranks
Didst promise me of vines, their alleys all
Corn-cropp'd between. There, oft as sent from Jove
The influences of the year descend,
Grapes of all hues and flavours clust'ring hang.
He said; Laertes, conscious of the proofs
Indubitable by Ulysses giv'n, 410
With fault'ring knees and fault'ring heart both arms
Around him threw. The Hero toil-inured
Drew to his bosom close his fainting sire,
Who, breath recov'ring, and his scatter'd pow'rs
Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.
Ye Gods! oh then your residence is still
On the Olympian heights, if punishment
At last hath seized on those flagitious men.
But terrour shakes me, lest, incensed, ere long
All Ithaca flock hither, and dispatch 420
Swift messengers with these dread tidings charged
To ev'ry Cephallenian state around.
Him answer'd then Ulysses ever-wise.
Courage! fear nought, but let us to the house
Beside the garden, whither I have sent
Telemachus, the herdsman, and the good
Eumaeus to prepare us quick repast.
So they conferr'd, and to Laertes' house
Pass'd on together; there arrived, they found
Those three preparing now their plenteous feast, 430
And mingling sable wine; then, by the hands
Of his Sicilian matron, the old King
Was bathed, anointed, and attired afresh,
And Pallas, drawing nigh, dilated more
His limbs, and gave his whole majestic form
Encrease of amplitude. He left the bath.
His son, amazed as he had seen a God
Alighted newly from the skies, exclaim'd.
My father! doubtless some immortal Pow'r
Hath clothed thy form with dignity divine. 440
Then thus replied his venerable sire.
Jove! Pallas! Phoebus! oh that I possess'd
Such vigour now, as when in arms I took
Nericus, continental city fair,
With my brave Cephallenians! oh that such
And arm'd as then, I yesterday had stood
Beside thee in thy palace, combating
Those suitors proud, then had I strew'd the floor
With num'rous slain, to thy exceeding joy.
Such was their conference; and now, the task 450
Of preparation ended, and the feast
Set forth, on couches and on thrones they sat,
And, ranged in order due, took each his share.
Then, ancient Dolius, and with him, his sons
Arrived toil-worn, by the Sicilian dame
Summon'd, their cat'ress, and their father's kind
Attendant ever in his eve of life.
They, seeing and recalling soon to mind
Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood
Wond'ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice 460
Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.
Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear
And mute amazement; for, although provoked
By appetite, we have long time abstain'd,
Expecting ev'ry moment thy return.
He said; then Dolius with expanded arms
Sprang right toward Ulysses, seized his hand,
Kiss'd it, and in wing'd accents thus replied.
Oh master ever dear! since thee the Gods
Themselves in answer to our warm desires, 470
Have, unexpectedly, at length restored,
Hail, and be happy, and heav'n make thee such!
But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen
Already thy return, or shall we send
Ourselves an herald with the joyful news?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My ancient friend, thou may'st release thy mind
From that solicitude; she knows it well.
So he; then Dolius to his glossy seat
Return'd, and all his sons gath'ring around 480
Ulysses, welcom'd him and grasp'd his hand,
Then sat beside their father; thus beneath
Laertes' roof they, joyful, took repast.
But Fame with rapid haste the city roam'd
In ev'ry part, promulging in all ears
The suitors' horrid fate. No sooner heard
The multitude that tale, than one and all
Groaning they met and murmuring before
Ulysses' gates. Bringing the bodies forth,
They buried each his friend, but gave the dead 490
Of other cities to be ferried home
By fishermen on board their rapid barks.
All hasted then to council; sorrow wrung
Their hearts, and, the assembly now convened,
Arising first Eupithes spake, for grief
Sat heavy on his soul, grief for the loss
Of his Antinous by Ulysses slain
Foremost of all, whom mourning, thus he said.
My friends! no trivial fruits the Greecians reap
Of this man's doings. _Those_ he took with him 500
On board his barks, a num'rous train and bold,
Then lost his barks, lost all his num'rous train,
And _these_, our noblest, slew at his return.
Come therefore--ere he yet escape by flight
To Pylus or to noble Elis, realm
Of the Epeans, follow him; else shame
Attends us and indelible reproach.
If we avenge not on these men the blood
Of our own sons and brothers, farewell then
All that makes life desirable; my wish 510
Henceforth shall be to mingle with the shades.
Oh then pursue and seize them ere they fly.
Thus he with tears, and pity moved in all.
Then, Medon and the sacred bard whom sleep
Had lately left, arriving from the house
Of Laertiades, approach'd; amid
The throng they stood; all wonder'd seeing them,
And Medon, prudent senior, thus began.
Hear me, my countrymen! Ulysses plann'd
With no disapprobation of the Gods 520
The deed that ye deplore. I saw, myself,
A Pow'r immortal at the Hero's side,
In semblance just of Mentor; now the God,
In front apparent, led him on, and now,
From side to side of all the palace, urged
To flight the suitors; heaps on heaps they fell.
He said; then terrour wan seiz'd ev'ry cheek,
And Halitherses, Hero old, the son
Of Mastor, who alone among them all
Knew past, and future, prudent, thus began. 530
Now, O ye men of Ithaca! my words
Attentive hear! by your own fault, my friends,
This deed hath been perform'd; for when myself
And noble Mentor counsell'd you to check
The sin and folly of your sons, ye would not.
Great was their wickedness, and flagrant wrong
They wrought, the wealth devouring and the wife
Dishonouring of an illustrious Chief
Whom they deem'd destined never to return.
But hear my counsel. Go not, lest ye draw 540
Disaster down and woe on your own heads.
He ended; then with boist'rous roar (although
Part kept their seats) upsprang the multitude,
For Halitherses pleased them not, they chose
Eupithes' counsel rather; all at once
To arms they flew, and clad in dazzling brass
Before the city form'd their dense array.
Leader infatuate at their head appear'd
Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son
Antinous, but was himself ordain'd 550
To meet his doom, and to return no more.
Then thus Minerva to Saturnian Jove.
Oh father! son of Saturn! Jove supreme!
Declare the purpose hidden in thy breast.
Wilt thou that this hostility proceed,
Or wilt thou grant them amity again?
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
Why asks my daughter? didst thou not design
Thyself, that brave Ulysses coming home
Should slay those profligates? act as thou wilt, 560
But thus I counsel, since the noble Chief
Hath slain the suitors, now let peace ensue
Oath-bound, and reign Ulysses evermore!
The slaughter of their brethren and their sons
To strike from their remembrance, shall be ours.
Let mutual amity, as at the first,
Unite them, and let wealth and peace abound.
So saying, he animated to her task
Minerva prompt before, and from the heights
Olympian down to Ithaca she flew. 570
Meantime Ulysses (for their hunger now
And thirst were sated) thus address'd his hinds.
Look ye abroad, lest haply they approach.
He said, and at his word, forth went a son
Of Dolius; at the gate he stood, and thence
Beholding all that multitude at hand,
In accents wing'd thus to Ulysses spake.
They come--they are already arrived--arm all!
Then, all arising, put their armour on,
Ulysses with his three, and the six sons 580
Of Dolius; Dolius also with the rest,
Arm'd and Laertes, although silver-hair'd,
Warriors perforce. When all were clad alike
In radiant armour, throwing wide the gates
They sallied, and Ulysses led the way.
Then Jove's own daughter Pallas, in the form
And with the voice of Mentor, came in view,
Whom seeing Laertiades rejoiced,
And thus Telemachus, his son, bespake.
Now, oh my son! thou shalt observe, untold 590
By me, where fight the bravest. Oh shame not
Thine ancestry, who have in all the earth
Proof given of valour in all ages past.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
My father! if thou wish that spectacle,
Thou shalt behold thy son, as thou hast said,
In nought dishonouring his noble race.
Then was Laertes joyful, and exclaim'd,
What sun hath ris'n to-day? [114] oh blessed Gods!
My son and grandson emulous dispute 600
The prize of glory, and my soul exults.
He ended, and Minerva drawing nigh
To the old King, thus counsell'd him. Oh friend
Whom most I love, son of Arcesias! pray'r
Preferring to the virgin azure-eyed,
And to her father Jove, delay not, shake
Thy lance in air, and give it instant flight.
So saying, the Goddess nerved his arm anew.
He sought in pray'r the daughter dread of Jove,
And, brandishing it, hurl'd his lance; it struck 610
Eupithes, pierced his helmet brazen-cheek'd
That stay'd it not, but forth it sprang beyond,
And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.
Then flew Ulysses and his noble son
With faulchion and with spear of double edge
To the assault, and of them all had left
None living, none had to his home return'd,
But that Jove's virgin daughter with a voice
Of loud authority thus quell'd them all.
Peace, O ye men of Ithaca! while yet 620
The field remains undeluged with your blood.
So she, and fear at once paled ev'ry cheek.
All trembled at the voice divine; their arms
Escaping from the grasp fell to the earth,
And, covetous of longer life, each fled
Back to the city. Then Ulysses sent
His voice abroad, and with an eagle's force
Sprang on the people; but Saturnian Jove,
Cast down, incontinent, his smouldring bolt
At Pallas' feet, and thus the Goddess spake. 630
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!
Forbear; abstain from slaughter; lest thyself
Incur the anger of high thund'ring Jove.
So Pallas, whom Ulysses, glad, obey'd.
Then faithful covenants of peace between
Both sides ensued, ratified in the sight
Of Pallas progeny of Jove, who seem'd,
In voice and form, the Mentor known to all.
FOOTNOTES:
[111]
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --the ghosts
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
SHAKSPEARE.
[112]
--Behemoth, biggest born of earth,
Upheav'd his vastness.
MILTON.
[113] The fruit is here used for the tree that bore it, as it is in the
Greek; the Latins used the same mode of expression, neither is it
uncommon in our own language.
[114] ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ;--So Cicero, who seems to translate it--Proh
dii immortales! Quis hic illuxit dies! See Clarke in loco.
END OF THE ODYSSEY
NOTES
NOTE I.
Bk. x. l. 101-106 (Hom. x. l. 81-86). --It is held now that this passage
should be explained by the supposition that the Homeric bards had heard
tales of northern latitudes, where, in summer-time, the darkness was so
short that evening was followed almost at once by morning. Thus the
herdsman coming home in the twilight at one day's close might meet and
hail the shepherd who was starting betimes for the next day's work.
Line 86 in the Greek ought probably to be translated, "For the paths of
night and day are close together," _i. e. _, the entrance of day follows
hard on the entrance of night.
NOTE II.
Bk. xi. l. 162, 163 (Hom. xi. l. 134, 135).
