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430
As yet the Gods on AEgypt's shore detained
Me wishing home, angry at my neglect
To heap their altars with slain hecatombs.
For they exacted from us evermore
Strict rev'rence of their laws. There is an isle
Amid the billowy flood, Pharos by name,
In front of AEgypt, distant from her shore
Far as a vessel by a sprightly gale
Impell'd, may push her voyage in a day.
The haven there is good, and many a ship 440
Finds wat'ring there from riv'lets on the coast.
There me the Gods kept twenty days, no breeze
Propitious granting, that might sweep the waves,
And usher to her home the flying bark.
And now had our provision, all consumed,
Left us exhausted, but a certain nymph
Pitying saved me. Daughter fair was she
Of mighty Proteus, Antient of the Deep,
Idothea named; her most my sorrows moved;
She found me from my followers all apart 450
Wand'ring (for they around the isle, with hooks
The fishes snaring roamed, by famine urged)
And standing at my side, me thus bespake.
Stranger! thou must be ideot born, or weak
At least in intellect, or thy delight
Is in distress and mis'ry, who delay'st
To leave this island, and no egress hence
Canst find, although thy famish'd people faint.
So spake the Goddess, and I thus replied.
I tell thee, whosoever of the Pow'rs 460
Divine thou art, that I am prison'd here
Not willingly, but must have, doubtless, sinn'd
Against the deathless tenants of the skies.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know)
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o'er the fishy Deep?
So I; to whom the Goddess all-divine.
Stranger! I will inform thee true. A seer
Oracular, the Antient of the Deep,
Immortal Proteus, the AEgyptian, haunts 470
These shores, familiar with all Ocean's gulphs,
And Neptune's subject. He is by report
My father; him if thou art able once
To seize and bind, he will prescribe the course
With all its measured distances, by which
Thou shalt regain secure thy native shores.
He will, moreover, at thy suit declare,
Thou favour'd of the skies! what good, what ill
Hath in thine house befall'n, while absent thou
Thy voyage difficult perform'st and long. 480
She spake, and I replied--Thyself reveal
By what effectual bands I may secure
The antient Deity marine, lest, warn'd
Of my approach, he shun me and escape.
Hard task for mortal hands to bind a God!
Then thus Idothea answer'd all-divine.
I will inform thee true. Soon as the sun
Hath climb'd the middle heav'ns, the prophet old,
Emerging while the breezy zephyr blows,
And cover'd with the scum of ocean, seeks 490
His spacious cove, in which outstretch'd he lies.
The phocae[15] also, rising from the waves,
Offspring of beauteous Halosydna, sleep
Around him, num'rous, and the fishy scent
Exhaling rank of the unfathom'd flood.
Thither conducting thee at peep of day
I will dispose thee in some safe recess,
But from among thy followers thou shalt chuse
The bravest three in all thy gallant fleet.
And now the artifices understand 500
Of the old prophet of the sea. The sum
Of all his phocae numb'ring duly first,
He will pass through them, and when all by fives
He counted hath, will in the midst repose
Content, as sleeps the shepherd with his flock.
When ye shall see him stretch'd, then call to mind
That moment all your prowess, and prevent,
Howe'er he strive impatient, his escape.
All changes trying, he will take the form
Of ev'ry reptile on the earth, will seem 510
A river now, and now devouring fire;
But hold him ye, and grasp him still the more.
And when himself shall question you, restored
To his own form in which ye found him first
Reposing, then from farther force abstain;
Then, Hero! loose the Antient of the Deep,
And ask him, of the Gods who checks thy course
Hence to thy country o'er the fishy flood.
So saying, she plunged into the billowy waste.
I then, in various musings lost, my ships 520
Along the sea-beach station'd sought again,
And when I reach'd my galley on the shore
We supp'd, and sacred night falling from heav'n,
Slept all extended on the ocean-side.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, pensive beside the shore
I walk'd of Ocean, frequent to the Gods
Praying devout, then chose the fittest three
For bold assault, and worthiest of my trust.
Meantime the Goddess from the bosom wide 530
Of Ocean rising, brought us thence four skins
Of phocae, and all newly stript, a snare
Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire.
Four cradles in the sand she scoop'd, then sat
Expecting us, who in due time approach'd;
She lodg'd us side by side, and over each
A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves
Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent
Of the sea-nourish'd phocae sore annoy'd;
For who would lay him down at a whale's side? 540
But she a potent remedy devised
Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth'd
Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought
Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued.
All morning, patient watchers, there we lay;
And now the num'rous phocae from the Deep
Emerging, slept along the shore, and he
At noon came also, and perceiving there
His fatted monsters, through the flock his course
Took regular, and summ'd them; with the first 550
He number'd us, suspicion none of fraud
Conceiving, then couch'd also. We, at once,
Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms
Constrain'd him fast; nor the sea-prophet old
Call'd not incontinent his shifts to mind.
First he became a long-maned lion grim,
Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar,
A limpid stream, and an o'ershadowing tree.
We persevering held him, till at length
The Antient of the Deep, skill'd as he is 560
In wiles, yet weary, question'd me, and said.
Oh Atreus' son, by what confed'rate God
Instructed liest thou in wait for me,
To seize and hold me? what is thy desire?
So He; to whom thus answer I return'd.
Old Seer! thou know'st; why, fraudful, should'st thou ask?
It is because I have been prison'd long
Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain
Deliv'rance, till my wonted courage fails.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) 570
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o'er the fishy Deep?
So I; when thus the old one of the waves.
But thy plain duty[16] was to have adored
Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods,
That then embarking, by propitious gales
Impell'd, thou might'st have reach'd thy country soon.
For thou art doom'd ne'er to behold again
Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores,
Till thou have seen once more the hallow'd flood 580
Of AEgypt, and with hecatombs adored
Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies.
Then will they speed thee whither thou desir'st.
He ended, and my heart broke at his words,
Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph
To AEgypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve!
Yet, though in sorrow whelm'd, I thus replied.
Old prophet! I will all thy will perform.
But tell me, and the truth simply reveal;
Have the Achaians with their ships arrived 590
All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy?
Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks,
Or in their followers' arms found a dire death
Unlook'd for, since that city's siege we closed?
I spake, when answer thus the God return'd.
Atrides, why these questions? Need is none
That thou should'st all my secrets learn, which once
Reveal'd, thou would'st not long dry-eyed remain.
Of those no few have died, and many live;
But leaders, two alone, in their return 600
Have died (thou also hast had war to wage)
And one, still living, roams the boundless sea.
Ajax,[17] surrounded by his galleys, died.
Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks
The Gyrae drove, but saved him from the Deep;
Nor had he perish'd, hated as he was
By Pallas, but for his own impious boast
In frenzy utter'd that he would escape
The billows, even in the Gods' despight.
Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp'd 610
His trident, and the huge Gyraean rock
Smiting indignant, dash'd it half away;
Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat
When, first, the brainsick fury seiz'd him, fell,
Bearing him with it down into the gulphs
Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died.
But thy own brother in his barks escaped
That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length,
He should have gain'd Malea's craggy shore,
Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew 620
With many a groan far o'er the fishy Deep
To the land's utmost point, where once his home
Thyestes had, but where Thyestes' son
Dwelt then, AEgisthus. Easy lay his course
And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods,
The shifted wind soon bore them to their home.
He, high in exultation, trod the shore
That gave him birth, kiss'd it, and, at the sight,
The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear.
Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, 630
One whom the shrewd AEgisthus had seduced
By promise of two golden talents, mark'd
His coming from a rock where he had watch'd
The year complete, lest, passing unperceived,
The King should reassert his right in arms.
Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord,
And He, incontinent, this project framed
Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts
Of all the people, from the rest he chose,
Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged 640
Diligent to prepare the festal board.
With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove
Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home
The unsuspicious King, amid the feast
Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.
Nor of thy brother's train, nor of his train
Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all,
Welt'ring in blood together, there expired.
He ended, and his words beat on my heart
As they would break it. On the sands I sat 650
Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more.
But when I had in dust roll'd me, and wept
To full satiety, mine ear again
The oracle of Ocean thus address'd.
Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here
Longer, for remedy can none be found;
But quick arising, trial make, how best
Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again.
For either him still living thou shalt find,
Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain 660
The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb.
He ceas'd, and I, afflicted as I was,
Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh'd,
And in wing'd accents answer thus return'd.
Of these I am inform'd; but name the third
Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep
Is still detain'd; I dread, yet wish to hear.
So I; to whom thus Proteus in return.
Laertes' son, the Lord of Ithaca--
Him in an island weeping I beheld, 670
Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint
Her guest, and from his native land withheld
By sad necessity; for ships well-oar'd,
Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid
Might speed him safely o'er the spacious flood.
But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate
Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet
In steed-fam'd Argos, but far hence the Gods
Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth's
Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells, 680
The golden-hair'd, and there the human kind
Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there,
No biting winter, and no drenching show'r,
But zephyr always gently from the sea
Breathes on them to refresh the happy race)
For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands
Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove.
So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste,
I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet
Return'd, deep-musing as I went, and sad. 690
No sooner had I reach'd my ship beside
The ocean, and we all had supp'd, than night
From heav'n fell on us, and, at ease reposed
Along the margin of the sea, we slept.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, drawing our galleys down
Into the sacred Deep, we rear'd again
The mast, unfurl'd the sail, and to our seats
On board returning, thresh'd the foamy flood.
Once more, at length, within the hallow'd stream 700
Of AEgypt mooring, on the shore I slew
Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus
Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared
To Agamemnon's never-dying fame
A tomb, and finishing it, sail'd again
With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent
My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece.
But come--eleven days wait here, or twelve
A guest with me, when I will send thee hence
Nobly, and honour'd with illustrious gifts, 710
With polish'd chariot, with three princely steeds,
And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods
Libation pouring ever while thou liv'st
From that same cup, thou may'st remember me.
Him, prudent, then answer'd Telemachus.
Atrides, seek not to detain me here
Long time; for though contented I could sit
The year beside thee, nor regret my home
Or parents, (so delightful thy discourse
Sounds in my ear) yet, even now, I know, 720
That my attendants to the Pylian shore
Wish my return, whom thou thus long detain'st.
What boon soe'er thou giv'st me, be it such
As I may treasur'd keep; but horses none
Take I to Ithaca; them rather far
Keep thou, for thy own glory. Thou art Lord
Of an extended plain, where copious springs
The lotus, herbage of all savours, wheat,
Pulse, and white barley of luxuriant growth.
But Ithaca no level champaign owns, 730
A nursery of goats, and yet a land
Fairer than even pastures to the eye.
No sea-encircled isle of ours affords
Smooth course commodious and expanse of meads,
But my own Ithaca transcends them all!
He said; the Hero Menelaus smiled,
And stroaking tenderly his cheek, replied.
Dear youth! thy speech proclaims thy noble blood.
I can with ease supply thee from within
With what shall suit thee better, and the gift 740
Of all that I possess which most excels
In beauty, and the noblest shall be thine.
I give thee, wrought elaborate, a cup
Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.
It is the work of Vulcan, which to me
The Hero Phaedimus imparted, King
Of the Sidonians, when on my return
His house received me. That shall be thy own.
Thus they conferr'd; and now the busy train
Of menials culinary,[18] at the gate 750
Enter'd of Menelaus, Chief renown'd;
They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine,
While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound,
Came charg'd with bread. Thus busy they prepared
A banquet in the mansion of the King.
Meantime, before Ulysses' palace gate
The suitors sported with the quoit and spear
On the smooth area, customary scene
Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.
There sat Antinous, and the godlike youth 760
Eurymachus, superior to the rest
And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius' son
Noemon drawing nigh, with anxious mien
Question'd Antinous, and thus began.
Know we, Antinous! or know we not,
When to expect Telemachus at home
Again from Pylus? in my ship he went,
Which now I need, that I may cross the sea
To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed
Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet 770
Unbroken, but of which I purpose one
To ferry thence, and break him into use.
He spake, whom they astonish'd heard; for him
They deem'd not to Neleian Pylus gone,
But haply into his own fields, his flocks
To visit, or the steward of his swine.
Then thus, Eupithes' son, Antinous, spake.
Say true. When sail'd he forth? of all our youth,
Whom chose he for his followers? his own train
Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow'r to effect 780
This also? Tell me too, for I would learn--
Took he perforce thy sable bark away,
Or gav'st it to him at his first demand?
To whom Noemon, Phronius' son, replied.
I gave it voluntary; what could'st thou,
Should such a prince petition for thy bark
In such distress? Hard were it to refuse.
Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves)
Attend him forth; and with them I observed
Mentor embarking, ruler o'er them all, 790
Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem'd.
But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn
I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here,
Whom shipp'd for Pylus I had seen before.
He ceas'd; and to his father's house return'd;
They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime
Finish'd, the suitors on their seats reposed,
To whom Eupithes' son, Antinous, next,
Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged
His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash'd fire. 800
Ye Gods, a proud exploit is here atchieved,
This voyage of Telemachus, by us
Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy
In downright opposition to us all,
Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band
Selected from our bravest youth, is gone.
He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow'r
Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects!
But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers,
That, watching his return within the streights 810
Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca,
I may surprise him; so shall he have sail'd
To seek his Sire, fatally for himself.
He ceased and loud applause heard in reply,
With warm encouragement. Then, rising all,
Into Ulysses' house at once they throng'd.
Nor was Penelope left uninformed
Long time of their clandestine plottings deep,
For herald Medon told her all, whose ear
Their councils caught while in the outer-court 820
He stood, and they that project framed within.
Swift to Penelope the tale he bore,
Who as he pass'd the gate, him thus address'd.
For what cause, herald! have the suitors sent
Thee foremost? Wou'd they that my maidens lay
Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them?
Here end their wooing! may they hence depart
Never, and may the banquet now prepared,
This banquet prove your last! [19] who in such throngs
Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair 830
Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure,
When children, heard how gracious and how good
Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none
Of all his people, or in word or deed
Injuring, as great princes oft are wont,
By favour influenc'd now, now by disgust.
He no man wrong'd at any time; but plain
Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears,
Who sense have none of benefits conferr'd.
Then Medon answer'd thus, prudent, return'd. 840
Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst.
But greater far and heavier ills than this
The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound!
Their base desire and purpose are to slay
Telemachus on his return; for he,
To gather tidings of his Sire is gone
To Pylus, or to Sparta's land divine.
He said; and where she stood, her trembling knees
Fail'd under her, and all her spirits went.
Speechless she long remain'd, tears filled her eyes, 850
And inarticulate in its passage died
Her utt'rance, till at last with pain she spake.
Herald! why went my son? he hath no need
On board swift ships to ride, which are to man
His steeds that bear him over seas remote.
Went he, that, with himself, his very name
Might perish from among mankind for ever?
Then answer, thus, Medon the wise return'd.
I know not whether him some God impell'd
Or his own heart to Pylus, there to hear 860
News of his Sire's return, or by what fate
At least he died, if he return no more.
He said, and traversing Ulysses' courts,
Departed; she with heart consuming woe
O'erwhelm'd, no longer could endure to take
Repose on any of her num'rous seats,
But on the threshold of her chamber-door
Lamenting sat, while all her female train
Around her moan'd, the antient and the young,
Whom, sobbing, thus Penelope bespake. 870
Hear me, ye maidens! for of women born
Coeval with me, none hath e'er received
Such plenteous sorrow from the Gods as I,
Who first my noble husband lost, endued
With courage lion-like, of all the Greeks
The Chief with ev'ry virtue most adorn'd,
A prince all-excellent, whose glorious praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused.
And now, my darling son,--him storms have snatch'd
Far hence inglorious, and I knew it not. 880
Ah treach'rous servants! conscious as ye were
Of his design, not one of you the thought
Conceived to wake me when he went on board.
For had but the report once reach'd my ear,
He either had not gone (how much soe'er
He wish'd to leave me) or had left me dead.
But haste ye,--bid my antient servant come,
Dolion, whom (when I left my father's house
He gave me, and whose office is to attend
My num'rous garden-plants) that he may seek 890
At once Laertes, and may tell him all,
Who may contrive some remedy, perchance,
Or fit expedient, and shall come abroad
To weep before the men who wish to slay
Even the prince, godlike Ulysses' son.
Then thus the gentle Euryclea spake,
Nurse of Telemachus. Alas! my Queen!
Slay me, or spare, deal with me as thou wilt,
I will confess the truth. I knew it all.
I gave him all that he required from me. 900
Both wine and bread, and, at his bidding, swore
To tell thee nought in twelve whole days to come,
Or till, enquiry made, thou should'st thyself
Learn his departure, lest thou should'st impair
Thy lovely features with excess of grief.
But lave thyself, and, fresh attired, ascend
To thy own chamber, there, with all thy train,
To worship Pallas, who shall save, thenceforth,
Thy son from death, what ills soe'er he meet.
Add not fresh sorrows to the present woes 910
Of the old King, for I believe not yet
Arcesias' race entirely by the Gods
Renounced, but trust that there shall still be found
Among them, who shall dwell in royal state,
And reap the fruits of fertile fields remote.
So saying, she hush'd her sorrow, and her eyes
No longer stream'd. Then, bathed and fresh attired,
Penelope ascended with her train
The upper palace, and a basket stored
With hallow'd cakes off'ring, to Pallas pray'd. 920
Hear matchless daughter of Jove AEgis-arm'd!
If ever wise Ulysses offer'd here
The thighs of fatted kine or sheep to thee,
Now mindful of his piety, preserve
His darling son, and frustrate with a frown
The cruelty of these imperious guests!
She said, and wept aloud, whose earnest suit
Pallas received. And now the spacious hall
And gloomy passages with tumult rang
And clamour of that throng, when thus, a youth, 930
Insolent as his fellows, dared to speak.
Much woo'd and long, the Queen at length prepares
To chuse another mate,[20] and nought suspects
The bloody death to which her son is doom'd.
So he; but they, meantime, themselves remain'd
Untaught, what course the dread concern elsewhere
Had taken, whom Antinous thus address'd.
Sirs! one and all, I counsel you, beware
Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one
O'erhearing you, report your words within. 940
No--rather thus, in silence, let us move
To an exploit so pleasant to us all.
He said, and twenty chose, the bravest there,
With whom he sought the galley on the shore,
Which drawing down into the deep, they placed
The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next,
Each oar in order to its proper groove,
Unfurl'd and spread their canvas to the gale.
Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms,
And soon as in deep water they had moor'd 950
The ship, themselves embarking, supp'd on board,
And watch'd impatient for the dusk of eve.
But when Penelope, the palace stairs
Remounting, had her upper chamber reach'd,
There, unrefresh'd with either food or wine,
She lay'd her down, her noble son the theme
Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape
His haughty foes, or perish by their hands.
Num'rous as are the lion's thoughts, who sees,
Not without fear, a multitude with toils 960
Encircling him around, such num'rous thoughts
Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length
Invading her, she sank in soft repose.
Then Pallas, teeming with a new design,
Set forth an airy phantom in the form
Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave
Icarius, and Eumelus' wedded wife
In Pherae. Shaped like her the dream she sent
Into the mansion of the godlike Chief
Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate 970
The sighs and tears of sad Penelope.
Ent'ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt
Secured it, at her head the image stood,
And thus, in terms compassionate, began.
Sleep'st thou, distress'd Penelope? The Gods,
Happy in everlasting rest themselves,
Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold
Thy son again, who hath by no offence
Incurr'd at any time the wrath of heav'n.
To whom, sweet-slumb'ring in the shadowy gate 980
By which dreams pass, Penelope replied.
What cause, my sister, brings thee, who art seen
Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell'st remote?
And thou enjoin'st me a cessation too
From sorrows num'rous, and which, fretting, wear
My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost
With courage lion-like endow'd, a prince
All-excellent, whose never-dying praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused;
And now my only son, new to the toils 990
And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught
The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone
Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more
Than for his Sire himself, and even shake
With terror, lest he perish by their hands
To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep;
For num'rous are his foes, and all intent
To slay him, ere he reach his home again.
Then answer thus the shadowy form return'd.
Take courage; suffer not excessive dread 1000
To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath
And guardian, one whom many wish their friend,
And ever at their side, knowing her pow'r,
Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs,
And I am here her harbinger, who speak
As thou hast heard by her own kind command.
Then thus Penelope the wise replied.
Oh!
if thou art a goddess, and hast heard
A Goddess' voice, rehearse to me the lot
Of that unhappy one, if yet he live 1010
Spectator of the cheerful beams of day,
Or if, already dead, he dwell below.
Whom answer'd thus the fleeting shadow vain.
I will not now inform thee if thy Lord
Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken.
So saying, her egress swift beside the bolt
She made, and melted into air. Upsprang
From sleep Icarius' daughter, and her heart
Felt heal'd within her, by that dream distinct
Visited in the noiseless night serene. 1020
Meantime the suitors urged their wat'ry way,
To instant death devoting in their hearts
Telemachus. There is a rocky isle
In the mid sea, Samos the rude between
And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris.
It hath commodious havens, into which
A passage clear opens on either side,
And there the ambush'd Greeks his coming watch'd.


FOOTNOTES:

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

[10] ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? .

[11] Antilochus was his brother.

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

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

[14] Proteus

[15] Seals, or sea-calves.

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

Nam quis te, juvenum confidentissime, nostras.
Egit adire domos.

[17] Son of Oileus.

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

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

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




BOOK V

ARGUMENT

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


Aurora from beside her glorious mate
Tithonus now arose, light to dispense
Through earth and heav'n, when the assembled Gods
In council sat, o'er whom high-thund'ring Jove
Presided, mightiest of the Pow'rs above.
Amid them, Pallas on the num'rous woes
Descanted of Ulysses, whom she saw
With grief, still prison'd in Calypso's isle.
Jove, Father, hear me, and ye other Pow'rs
Who live for ever, hear! Be never King 10
Henceforth to gracious acts inclined, humane,
Or righteous, but let ev'ry sceptred hand
Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,
Since none of all his people whom he sway'd
With such paternal gentleness and love
Remembers, now, divine Ulysses more.
He, in yon distant isle a suff'rer lies
Of hopeless sorrow, through constraint the guest
Still of the nymph Calypso, without means
Or pow'r to reach his native shores again, 20
Alike of gallant barks and friends depriv'd,
Who might conduct him o'er the spacious Deep.
Nor is this all, but enemies combine
To slay his son ere yet he can return
From Pylus, whither he hath gone to learn
There, or in Sparta, tidings of his Sire.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
What word hath pass'd thy lips, daughter belov'd?
Hast thou not purpos'd that arriving soon
At home, Ulysses shall destroy his foes? 30
Guide thou, Telemachus, (for well thou canst)
That he may reach secure his native coast,
And that the suitors baffled may return.
He ceas'd, and thus to Hermes spake, his son.
Hermes! (for thou art herald of our will
At all times) to yon bright-hair'd nymph convey
Our fix'd resolve, that brave Ulysses thence
Depart, uncompanied by God or man.
Borne on a corded raft, and suff'ring woe
Extreme, he on the twentieth day shall reach, 40
Not sooner, Scherie the deep-soil'd, possess'd
By the Phaeacians, kinsmen of the Gods.
They, as a God shall reverence the Chief,
And in a bark of theirs shall send him thence
To his own home, much treasure, brass and gold
And raiment giving him, to an amount
Surpassing all that, had he safe return'd,
He should by lot have shared of Ilium's spoil.
Thus Fate appoints Ulysses to regain
His country, his own palace, and his friends. 50
He ended, nor the Argicide refused,
Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair,
Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound,
Which o'er the moist wave, rapid as the wind,
Bear him, and o'er th' illimitable earth,
Then took his rod with which, at will, all eyes
He closes soft, or opes them wide again.
So arm'd, forth flew the valiant Argicide.
Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop'd
To Ocean, and the billows lightly skimm'd 60
In form a sew-mew, such as in the bays
Tremendous of the barren Deep her food
Seeking, dips oft in brine her ample wing.
In such disguise o'er many a wave he rode,
But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook
The azure Deep, and at the spacious grot,
Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived,
Found her within. A fire on all the hearth
Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent
Of smooth-split cedar and of cypress-wood 70
Odorous, burning, cheer'd the happy isle.
She, busied at the loom, and plying fast
Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice
Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side,
Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch
Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave.
There many a bird of broadest pinion built
Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw
Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores.
A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides 80
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Stray'd all around, and ev'ry where appear'd
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A God from heav'n with wonder and delight.
Hermes, Heav'n's messenger, admiring stood
That sight, and having all survey'd, at length
Enter'd the grotto; nor the lovely nymph 90
Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown
Each to the other the Immortals are,
How far soever sep'rate their abodes.
Yet found he not within the mighty Chief
Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore,
Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans
Of sad regret t' afflict his breaking heart.
Looking continual o'er the barren Deep.
Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God
Question'd, from her resplendent throne august. 100
Hermes! possessor of the potent rod!
Who, though by me much reverenc'd and belov'd,
So seldom com'st, say, wherefore comest now?
Speak thy desire; I grant it, if thou ask
Things possible, and possible to me.
Stay not, but ent'ring farther, at my board
Due rites of hospitality receive.
So saying, the Goddess with ambrosial food
Her table cover'd, and with rosy juice
Nectareous charged the cup. Then ate and drank 110
The argicide and herald of the skies,
And in his soul with that repast divine
Refresh'd, his message to the nymph declared.
Questionest thou, O Goddess, me a God?
I tell thee truth, since such is thy demand.
Not willing, but by Jove constrain'd, I come.
For who would, voluntary, such a breadth
Enormous measure of the salt expanse,
Where city none is seen in which the Gods
Are served with chosen hecatombs and pray'r? 120
But no divinity may the designs
Elude, or controvert, of Jove supreme.
He saith, that here thou hold'st the most distrest
Of all those warriors who nine years assail'd
The city of Priam, and, (that city sack'd)
Departed in the tenth; but, going thence,
Offended Pallas, who with adverse winds
Opposed their voyage, and with boist'rous waves.
Then perish'd all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither; Jove commands 130
That thou dismiss him hence without delay,
For fate ordains him not to perish here
From all his friends remote, but he is doom'd
To see them yet again, and to arrive
At his own palace in his native land.
He said; divine Calypso at the sound
Shudder'd, and in wing'd accents thus replied.
Ye are unjust, ye Gods, and envious past
All others, grudging if a Goddess take
A mortal man openly to her arms! 140
So, when the rosy-finger'd Morning chose
Orion, though ye live yourselves at ease,
Yet ye all envied her, until the chaste
Diana from her golden throne dispatch'd
A silent shaft, which slew him in Ortygia.
So, when the golden-tressed Ceres, urged
By passion, took Iasion to her arms
In a thrice-labour'd fallow, not untaught
Was Jove that secret long, and, hearing it,
Indignant, slew him with his candent bolt. 150
So also, O ye Gods, ye envy me
The mortal man, my comfort. Him I saved
Myself, while solitary on his keel
He rode, for with his sulph'rous arrow Jove
Had cleft his bark amid the sable Deep.
Then perish'd all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither, whom I lov'd
Sincere, and fondly destin'd to a life
Immortal, unobnoxious to decay.
But since no Deity may the designs 160
Elude or controvert of Jove supreme,
Hence with him o'er the barren Deep, if such
The Sov'reign's will, and such his stern command.
But undismiss'd he goes by me, who ships
Myself well-oar'd and mariners have none
To send with him athwart the spacious flood;
Yet freely, readily, my best advice
I will afford him, that, escaping all
Danger, he may regain his native shore.
Then Hermes thus, the messenger of heav'n. 170
Act as thou say'st, fearing the frown of Jove,
Lest, if provoked, he spare not even thee.
So saying, the dauntless Argicide withdrew,
And she (Jove's mandate heard) all-graceful went,
Seeking the brave Ulysses; on the shore
She found him seated; tears succeeding tears
Delug'd his eyes, while, hopeless of return,
Life's precious hours to eating cares he gave
Continual, with the nymph now charm'd no more.
Yet, cold as she was am'rous, still he pass'd 180
His nights beside her in the hollow grot,
Constrain'd, and day by day the rocks among
Which lined the shore heart-broken sat, and oft
While wistfully he eyed the barren Deep,
Wept, groaned, desponded, sigh'd, and wept again.
Then, drawing near, thus spake the nymph divine.
Unhappy! weep not here, nor life consume
In anguish; go; thou hast my glad consent.
Arise to labour; hewing down the trunks
Of lofty trees, fashion them with the ax 190
To a broad raft, which closely floor'd above,
Shall hence convey thee o'er the gloomy Deep.
Bread, water, and the red grape's cheering juice
Myself will put on board, which shall preserve
Thy life from famine; I will also give
New raiment for thy limbs, and will dispatch
Winds after thee to waft thee home unharm'd,
If such the pleasure of the Gods who dwell
In yonder boundless heav'n, superior far
To me, in knowledge and in skill to judge. 200
She ceas'd; but horror at that sound the heart
Chill'd of Ulysses, and in accents wing'd
With wonder, thus the noble Chief replied.
Ah! other thoughts than of my safe return
Employ thee, Goddess, now, who bid'st me pass
The perilous gulph of Ocean on a raft,
That wild expanse terrible, which even ships
Pass not, though form'd to cleave their way with ease,
And joyful in propitious winds from Jove.
No--let me never, in despight of thee, 210
Embark on board a raft, nor till thou swear,
O Goddess! the inviolable oath,
That future mischief thou intend'st me none.
He said; Calypso, beauteous Goddess, smiled,
And, while she spake, stroaking his cheek, replied.
Thou dost asperse me rudely, and excuse
Of ignorance hast none, far better taught;
What words were these? How could'st thou thus reply?
Now hear me Earth, and the wide Heav'n above!
Hear, too, ye waters of the Stygian stream 220
Under the earth (by which the blessed Gods
Swear trembling, and revere the awful oath! )
That future mischief I intend thee none.
No, my designs concerning thee are such
As, in an exigence resembling thine,
Myself, most sure, should for myself conceive.
I have a mind more equal, not of steel
My heart is form'd, but much to pity inclined.
So saying, the lovely Goddess with swift pace
Led on, whose footsteps he as swift pursued. 230
Within the vaulted cavern they arrived,
The Goddess and the man; on the same throne
Ulysses sat, whence Hermes had aris'n,
And viands of all kinds, such as sustain
The life of mortal man, Calypso placed
Before him, both for bev'rage and for food.
She opposite to the illustrious Chief
Reposed, by her attendant maidens served
With nectar and ambrosia. They their hands
Stretch'd forth together to the ready feast, 240
And when nor hunger more nor thirst remain'd
Unsated, thus the beauteous nymph began.
Laertes' noble son, for wisdom famed
And artifice! oh canst thou thus resolve
To seek, incontinent, thy native shores?
I pardon thee. Farewell! but could'st thou guess
The woes which fate ordains thee to endure
Ere yet thou reach thy country, well-content
Here to inhabit, thou would'st keep my grot
And be immortal, howsoe'er thy wife 250
Engage thy ev'ry wish day after day.
Yet can I not in stature or in form
Myself suspect inferior aught to her,
Since competition cannot be between
Mere mortal beauties, and a form divine.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Awful Divinity! be not incensed.
I know that my Penelope in form
And stature altogether yields to thee,
For she is mortal, and immortal thou, 260
From age exempt; yet not the less I wish
My home, and languish daily to return.
But should some God amid the sable Deep
Dash me again into a wreck, my soul
Shall bear _that_ also; for, by practice taught,
I have learned patience, having much endured
By tempest and in battle both. Come then
This evil also! I am well prepared.
He ended, and the sun sinking, resign'd
The earth to darkness. Then in a recess 270
Interior of the cavern, side by side
Reposed, they took their amorous delight.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, Ulysses then in haste
Put on his vest and mantle, and, the nymph
Her snowy vesture of transparent woof,
Graceful, redundant; to her waist she bound
Her golden zone, and veil'd her beauteous head,
Then, musing, plann'd the noble Chief's return.
She gave him, fitted to the grasp, an ax 280
Of iron, pond'rous, double-edg'd, with haft
Of olive-wood, inserted firm, and wrought
With curious art. Then, placing in his hand
A polish'd adze, she led, herself, the way
To her isles' utmost verge, where tallest trees
But dry long since and sapless stood, which best
Might serve his purposes, as buoyant most,
The alder, poplar, and cloud-piercing fir.
To that tall grove she led and left him there,
Seeking her grot again. Then slept not He, 290
But, swinging with both hands the ax, his task
Soon finish'd; trees full twenty to the ground
He cast, which, dext'rous, with his adze he smooth'd,
The knotted surface chipping by a line.
Meantime the lovely Goddess to his aid
Sharp augres brought, with which he bored the beams,
Then, side by side placing them, fitted each
To other, and with long cramps join'd them all.
Broad as an artist, skill'd in naval works,
The bottom of a ship of burthen spreads, 300
Such breadth Ulysses to his raft assign'd.
He deck'd her over with long planks, upborne
On massy beams; He made the mast, to which
He added suitable the yard;--he framed
Rudder and helm to regulate her course,
With wicker-work he border'd all her length
For safety, and much ballast stow'd within.
Meantime, Calypso brought him for a sail
Fittest materials, which he also shaped,
And to his sail due furniture annex'd 310
Of cordage strong, foot-ropes, and ropes aloft,
Then heav'd her down with levers to the Deep.
He finish'd all his work on the fourth day,
And on the fifth, Calypso, nymph divine,
Dismiss'd him from her isle, but laved him first,
And cloath'd him in sweet-scented garments new.
Two skins the Goddess also placed on board,
One charg'd with crimson wine, and ampler one
With water, nor a bag with food replete
Forgot, nutritious, grateful to the taste, 320
Nor yet, her latest gift, a gentle gale
And manageable, which Ulysses spread,
Exulting, all his canvas to receive.
Beside the helm he sat, steering expert,
Nor sleep fell ever on his eyes that watch'd
Intent the Pleiads, tardy in decline
Bootes, and the Bear, call'd else the Wain,
Which, in his polar prison circling, looks
Direct toward Orion, and alone
Of these sinks never to the briny Deep. 330
That star the lovely Goddess bade him hold
Continual on his left through all his course.
Ten days and sev'n, he, navigating, cleav'd
The brine, and on the eighteenth day, at length,
The shadowy mountains of Phaeacia's land
Descried, where nearest to his course it lay
Like a broad buckler on the waves afloat.
But Neptune, now returning from the land
Of Ethiopia, mark'd him on his raft
Skimming the billows, from the mountain-tops 340
Of distant Solyma. [21] With tenfold wrath
Inflamed that sight he view'd, his brows he shook,
And thus within himself, indignant, spake.
So then--new counsels in the skies, it seems,
Propitious to Ulysses, have prevail'd
Since AEthiopia hath been my abode.
He sees Phaeacia nigh, where he must leap
The bound'ry of his woes; but ere that hour
Arrive, I will ensure him many a groan.
So saying, he grasp'd his trident, gather'd dense 350
The clouds and troubled ocean; ev'ry storm
From ev'ry point he summon'd, earth and sea
Darkening, and the night fell black from heav'n.
The East, the South, the heavy-blowing West,
And the cold North-wind clear, assail'd at once
His raft, and heaved on high the billowy flood.
All hope, all courage, in that moment, lost,
The Hero thus within himself complain'd.
Wretch that I am, what destiny at last
Attends me! much I fear the Goddess' words 360
All true, which threaten'd me with num'rous ills
On the wide sea, ere I should reach my home.
Behold them all fulfill'd! with what a storm
Jove hangs the heav'ns, and agitates the Deep!
The winds combined beat on me. Now I sink!
Thrice blest, and more than thrice, Achaia's sons
At Ilium slain for the Atridae' sake!
Ah, would to heav'n that, dying, I had felt
That day the stroke of fate, when me the dead
Achilles guarding, with a thousand spears 370
Troy's furious host assail'd! Funereal rites
I then had shared, and praise from ev'ry Greek,
Whom now the most inglorious death awaits.
While thus he spake, a billow on his head
Bursting impetuous, whirl'd the raft around,
And, dashing from his grasp the helm, himself
Plunged far remote. Then came a sudden gust
Of mingling winds, that in the middle snapp'd
His mast, and, hurried o'er the waves afar,
Both sail and sail-yard fell into the flood. 380
Long time submerged he lay, nor could with ease
The violence of that dread shock surmount,
Or rise to air again, so burthensome
His drench'd apparel proved; but, at the last,
He rose, and, rising, sputter'd from his lips
The brine that trickled copious from his brows.
Nor, harass'd as he was, resign'd he yet
His raft, but buffetting the waves aside
With desp'rate efforts, seized it, and again
Fast seated on the middle deck, escaped. 390
Then roll'd the raft at random in the flood,
Wallowing unwieldy, toss'd from wave to wave.
As when in autumn, Boreas o'er the plain
Conglomerated thorns before him drives,
They, tangled, to each other close adhere,
So her the winds drove wild about the Deep.
By turns the South consign'd her to be sport
For the rude North-wind, and, by turns, the East
Yielded her to the worrying West a prey.
But Cadmus' beauteous daughter (Ino once, 400
Now named Leucothea) saw him; mortal erst
Was she, and trod the earth,[22] but nymph become
Of Ocean since, in honours shares divine.
She mark'd his anguish, and, while toss'd he roam'd,
Pitied Ulysses; from the flood, in form
A cormorant, she flew, and on the raft
Close-corded perching, thus the Chief address'd.
Alas! unhappy! how hast thou incensed
So terribly the Shaker of the shores,
That he pursues thee with such num'rous ills? 410
Sink thee he cannot, wish it as he may.
Thus do (for I account thee not unwise)
Thy garments putting off, let drive thy raft
As the winds will, then, swimming, strive to reach
Phaeacia, where thy doom is to escape.
Take this. This ribbon bind beneath thy breast,
Celestial texture. Thenceforth ev'ry fear
Of death dismiss, and, laying once thy hands
On the firm continent, unbind the zone,
Which thou shalt cast far distant from the shore 420
Into the Deep, turning thy face away.
So saying, the Goddess gave into his hand
The wond'rous zone, and, cormorant in form,
Plunging herself into the waves again
Headlong, was hidden by the closing flood.
But still Ulysses sat perplex'd, and thus
The toil-enduring Hero reason'd sad.
Alas! I tremble lest some God design
T' ensnare me yet, bidding me quit the raft.
But let me well beware how I obey 430
Too soon that precept, for I saw the land
Of my foretold deliv'rance far remote.
Thus, therefore, will I do, for such appears
My wiser course. So long as yet the planks
Mutual adhere, continuing on board
My raft, I will endure whatever woes,
But when the waves shall shatter it, I will swim,
My sole resource then left. While thus he mused,
Neptune a billow of enormous bulk
Hollow'd into an overwhelming arch 440
On high up-heaving, smote him. As the wind
Tempestuous, falling on some stubble-heap,
The arid straws dissipates ev'ry way,
So flew the timbers. He, a single beam
Bestriding, oar'd it onward with his feet,
As he had urged an horse. His raiment, then,
Gift of Calypso, putting off, he bound
His girdle on, and prone into the sea
With wide-spread palms prepar'd for swimming, fell.
Shore-shaker Neptune noted him; he shook 450
His awful brows, and in his heart he said,
Thus, suff'ring many mis'ries roam the flood,
Till thou shalt mingle with a race of men
Heav'n's special favourites; yet even there
Fear not that thou shalt feel thy sorrows light.
He said, and scourging his bright steeds, arrived
At AEgae, where his glorious palace stands.