THE 
 
 COMPLETE POETICAL ¥0EKS 
 
 OF 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. 
 
 INCLUDING HIS TRANSLATIONS OF 
 
 THE ILIAD AND THE ODYSSEY OF HOMEE. 
 
 AVITH 
 
 AN ORIGINAL MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES, 
 
 AND SEVERAL VALUABLE PAPERS, NOT CONTAINED IN ANY OTHER EDITION, 
 
 EDITED BY W. C. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 ' VOL. IV. 
 
 ^ > “L ^ . "I I ‘ , 
 
 HARTFORD: 
 
 SILAS ANDRUS AND SON. 
 
 18 49 . . 
 
 BOSTO 
 
 CHLSTNUT HILU 
 
ENTERED, ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR L818, BS? 
 
 SILAS ANDRUS AND SON, 
 
 IN THE CLERK'S OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT COURT OF CONNECTICUT. 
 
 
 : .T'*' 
 
 FOUNDRY OF 
 
 S. ANDRUS AND SON, 
 
 PRESS OP 
 
 WALTER S. WILLIAMS, 
 
 t' 
 
 HARTFORD 
 
 HARTFORD 
 
TRANSLATION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ODYSSEY OE HOMEE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. 
 
 WITH 
 
 POPE’S POSTSCRIPT TO THE ODYSSEY, 
 
 AND 
 
 “CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES,” BY BROOME, &c. 
 
 CAREFULLY REVISED, EXPRESSLY FOR THIS EDITION, 
 BY W. C. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 HARTFORD: 
 
 SILAS ANDRUS AND SON. 
 
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INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 It has often been regretted that" a critical treatise on the nature and conduct 
 of the Odyssey^' has not as yet been iurnished for any of the numerous editions 
 which have heretofore been issued. Aware of his inability to handle a subject 
 of such utility and importance, the editor is compelled to content himself with 
 condensing a few brief extracts from Bosstj; and, "meagre and defective” 
 though they be, it is hoped that, in the absence of more lucid commentaries, 
 they will not be altogether unacceptable. 
 
 Fruitless efforts have been made to procure a copy of the third volume of 
 the Adventurer, printed many years since, which contained three essays on the 
 excellence of the Odyssey. It is said "they were designed to show this 
 excellence in the mEsiner of conducting the fable, which is of the complex 
 kind; in the extensive utility of its moral; in the vast and entertaining variety 
 of scenes, objects, and events, which it contains; in the strokes of nature, and 
 pathos; in the tme and accurate delineation of ancient manners, customs, and 
 habits; and the hvely pictures of civil and domestic life, more calculated to 
 keep our attention alive and active, than the martial uniformity of the Iliad; 
 and in its exhibiting the most perfect pattern of a legitimate epopee'' 
 
 Many of the remarks of Bossu, which follow, may be considered by some 
 readers as irrelevant in an American copy of Pope; yet they are so thoroughly 
 blended with what is really important, as not to admit of being detached, 
 without materially marring the purpose of the writer. 
 
 The design of the Odyssey was not, like that of the Iliad, for the instruc¬ 
 tion of " aU the states of Greece join’d in one body, but for each state in 
 particular. As a state is composed of two parts: the head which commands, 
 and the members which obey; there are instructions requisite to both, to teach 
 one to govern, and the others to submit to government. 
 
 " There are two virtues necessary to one in authority; prudence to order, and 
 care to see his orders put in execution. The prudence of a politician is not 
 acquired but by a long experience in all sorts of business, and by an acquaint¬ 
 ance with all the different forms of governments and states. The care of the 
 administration suffers not him that has the government to rely upon others, 
 but reqixires his own presence: and kings, who are absent from their states, 
 are in danger of losing them, and give occasion to great disorders and confusion. 
 
 “These two points may be easily united in one and the same man. ‘A 
 king forsakes his kingdom to visit the courts of several princes, where he learns 
 the manners and customs o£ di^p^t^^ons. From hence there naturally 
 
Vi 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 arises a vast number of incidents, of dangers, and of adventures very useful 
 for a political institution. On the other side, this absence gives way to the 
 disorders which happen in his own kingdom, and which end not till his return, 
 whose presence only can reestablish all things.’ Thus the absence of a king 
 has the same effect in this fable, as the division of the princes in the former. 
 
 “ The subjects have scarce any need but of one general maxim, which is, to 
 suffer themselves to be governed, and to obey faithfully; whatever teason they 
 may imagine against the orders they receive. It is easy to join this instruction 
 with the other, by bestowing on this wise and industrious prince such subjects, 
 as in his absence would rather follow their own judgment than his commands; 
 and by demonstrating the misfortunes which this disobedience draws upon 
 them, the evil consequences will almost infallibly attend these particular notions, 
 which are entirely different from the general idea of him who ought to govern. 
 
 “ But as it was necessary that the princes in the Iliad should be choleric and 
 quarrelsome, so it is necessary in the fable of the Odyssey that the chief person 
 should be sage and prudent. This raises a difficulty in the fiction; because this 
 person ought to be absent for the two reasons above mentioned, which are 
 essential to the fable, and which constitute the principal aim of it: but he 
 cannot absent himself, without offending another maxim of equal importance, 
 viz: That a prince should upon no account leave his country. 
 
 “ It is true, there are sometimes such necessities as sufficiently excuse the pru¬ 
 dence of a pohtician in this point. But such a necessity is a thing important 
 enough of itself to supply matter for another poem, and this multiplication of 
 the action would be vicious. To prevent which, in the first place, this 
 necessity, and the departure of the hero, must be disjoined from the poem; 
 and in the second place, the hero having been obliged to absent hunself, for a 
 reason antecedent to the action, and placed distinct from the fable, he ought 
 not so far to embrace this opportunity of instructing himself, as to absent him¬ 
 self voluntarily from his own government. For at this rate, his absence 
 would be merely voluntary, and one might with reason lay to his charge all 
 the disorders which might arise. 
 
 “ Thus in the constitution of the fable he ought not to take for his action, and 
 for the foundation of his poem, the departure of a prince from his own country 
 nor his voluntary stay in any other place; but his return, and this return retarded 
 against his will. This is the first idea Homer gives us of it. His hero appears 
 at first in a desolate island, sitting upon the side of the sea, which, with tears 
 in his eyes, he looks upon as the obstacle wliich had so long opposed his return, 
 and detained him from revisiting his own dear country. 
 
 “ And lastly, since this forced delay might more naturally and usually happen 
 to such as make voyages by sea; Homer has judiciously made choice of 
 a prince whose kingdom was in an island. 
 
 “ Let us see then how he has feigned all this action, making his hero a person 
 in years, because years are requisite to instruct a man in prudence and policy: 
 
 “ ‘ A prince had been obliged to forsake his native country, and to head an 
 army of his subjects in a foreign expedition. Having gloriously performed 
 this enterprise, he v/as marching home again, and conducting his subjects to 
 his own state. But, spite of all the attempts with which the eagerness to 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 Vli 
 
 return had inspired him, he was stopped by the way by tempests for several 
 years, and cast upon several countries, differing from each other in manners 
 and government. In these dangers, his companions, not always following his 
 orders, perished through their own fault.—The grandees of his country 
 strangely abuse his absence, and raise no small disorders at home. They 
 consume his estate, conspire to destroy his son, would constrain his queen to 
 accept of one of them for her husband; and indulge themselves in all violence, 
 so much the more, because they were persuaded he would never return. But 
 at last he returns, and, discovering himself only to his son and some others, 
 who had continued firm to him, he is an eye-witness of the insolence of his 
 enemies, punishes them according to their deserts, and restores to his island that 
 tranquillity and repose to which they had been strangers during his absence.’ 
 
 “As the truth, which serves for foundation to this fiction, is, that the absence 
 of a person from his own home, or his neglect of his own affairs, is the cause 
 of great disorders; so the principal point of the action, and the most essential 
 one, is the absence of the hero. This fills ahnost all the poem: for not only 
 this real absence lasted several years, but even when the hero returned, he does 
 not discover himself; and this prudent disguise, from whence he reaped so 
 much advantage, has the same effect upon the authors of the disorders, and all 
 others who knew him not, as his real absence had before, so that he is absent 
 as to them, till the very moment of their punishment. 
 
 “ After the poet had thus composed his fable, and joined the fiction to the 
 truth, he then makes choice of Ulysses, the king of the isle of Ithaca, to 
 maintain the character of his chief personage, and bestowed the rest upon 
 Telemachus, Penelop6, Antinoiis, and others, whom he calls by what names 
 he pleases. 
 
 “ I shall not here insist upon the many excellent advices, which are so many 
 parts and natural consequences of the fundamental truth; and which the poet 
 very dexterously lays down in those fictions which are the episodes and members 
 of the entire action. Such, for instance, are these advices: not to intrude one’s 
 self into the mysteries of government, which the prince keeps secret; this is 
 represented to us by the winds shut up in a bull-hide, which the miserable 
 companions of Ulysses would needs be so foolish as to pry into: not to suffer 
 one’s self to be led away by the seeming charms of an idle and inactive life, 
 to which the Sirens’ song invited;^ not to suffer one’s self to be sensualized by 
 pleasures, like those who were changed into brutes, by Circe; and a great 
 many other points of morality necessary for all sorts of people. 
 
 “ This poem is more useful to the people than the Iliad, where the subjects 
 suffer rather by the hl-conduct of their princes, than through their own mis¬ 
 carriages. But in the Odyssey, it is not the fault of Ulysses that is the ruin 
 of his subjects. This wise prince leaves untried no method to make them 
 partakers of the benefit of his return. Thus the poet in the Iliad says, ‘ He 
 sings the anger of Achilles, which had caused the death of so many Grecians f 
 and, on the contrary, in the Odyssey he tells his readers, ‘ That the subjects 
 perished through their own fault.’ 
 
 * “ Improba Siren desidia.”— Horace. 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 Vlll 
 
 » ^ » * « * » * 
 
 The Action of the Odyssey. —His design in the Odyssey was to describe 
 the return of Ulysses from the siege of Troy, and his arrival at Ithaca. He 
 opens this poem with the complaints of Minerva against Neptune, who opposes 
 the return of this hero, and against Calypso, who detained him in an island 
 from Ithaca. Is this a beginning] No; doubtless, the reader would know 
 why Neptune is displeased with Ulysses, and how this prince came to be with 
 Calypso] He would know how he came from Troy thither] The poet 
 answers his demands out of the mouth of Ulysses himself, who relates these 
 things, and begins the action by the recitals of his travels from the city of 
 Troy. It signifies little whether the beginning of the action be the beginning 
 of the poem. The beginning of this action is that which happens to Ulysses, 
 when, upon his leaving Troy, he bends his course for Ithaca. The middle 
 comprehends all the misfortunes he endured, and all the disorders of his own 
 government. The end is the reinstating of the hero in the peaceable posses¬ 
 sion of his kingdom, where he was acknowledged by his son, his wife, his 
 father, and several others. The poet was sensible he should have ended 
 ill, had he gone no farther than the death of these princes, who were the 
 rivals and enemies of Ulysses, because the reader might have looked for some 
 revenge, which the subjects of these princes might have taken on him who had 
 killed their sovereigns: but this danger over, and the people vanquished and 
 quieted, there was nothing more to be expected. The poem and the action 
 have all their parts, and no more. But the order of the Odyssey differs from that 
 of the Iliad, in that the poem does not begin with the beginning of the action. 
 ******** 
 
 “ Homer has ingeniously begun his Odyssey with the transactions at Ithaca, 
 during the absence of Ulysses. If he had begun with the travels of his hero, 
 he would scarce have spoken of any one else, and a man might have read a 
 great deal of the poem, without conceiving the least idea of Telemachus, 
 Penelopd, or her suitors, who had so great a share in the action; but in the 
 beginning he has pitched upon, besides these personages whom he discovers, 
 he represents Ulysses in his full length, and from the very first opening one 
 sees the interest which the gods take in the action. 
 
 **** **** 
 
 “ The first part of the Iliad is the anger of Achilles, who is for revenging 
 himself upon Agamemnon by means of Hector and the Trojans. The 
 intrigue comprehends the three days' fight, which happened in the absence of 
 Achilles: and it consists on one side in the resistance of Agamemnon and the 
 Grecians; and on the other in the revengeful and inexorable humour of 
 Achilles, which would not suffer him to be reconciled. The loss of the 
 Grecians, and the despair of Agamemnon, prepare for a solution by the 
 satisfaction which the incensed hero received from it. The death of Patroclus, 
 joined to the offers of Agamemnon, which of itself had proved ineffectual, 
 remove this difficulty, and make the unravelling of the first part. 
 
 « This death is likewise the beginning of the second part; since it puts 
 Achilles upon the design of revenging himself on Hector. But the design 
 of Hector is opposite to that of Achilles: this Trojan is valiant, and resolved 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 IX 
 
 to stand on his own defence. The valour and resolution of Hector are on his 
 part the cause of the intrigue. All the endeavours Achilles used to meet with 
 Hector, and be the death of him; and the contrary endeavours of the Trojan 
 to keep out of his reach, and defend himself, are the intrigue; which compre¬ 
 hends the battle of the last day. The unravelling begins at the death of 
 Hector; and besides that, it contains the insulting of Achilles over his body, 
 the honours paid to Patroclus, and the entreaties of King Priam. The regrets 
 of this king and the other Trojans, in the sorrowful obsequies they paid to 
 Hector’s body, end the unravelling; they justify the satisfaction of Achilles, 
 and demonstrate his tranquillity. 
 
 “ The first part of the Odyssey is the return of Ulysses into Ithaca. Neptune 
 opposes it by raising tempests, and this makes the intrigue. The unravelhng 
 is the arrival of Ulysses upon his own island, where Neptune could offer him 
 no farther injury. The second part is the reinstating this hero in his own 
 government. The princes, that are his rivals, oppose him, and this is a fresh 
 intrigue: the solution of it begins at their deaths, and is completed as soon as 
 the Ithacans were appeased. 
 
 “ These two parts in the Odyssey have not one common intrigue. The 
 anger of Achilles forms both the intrigues in the Iliad; and it is so far the 
 matter of this epopee, that the very beginning and end of this poem depends 
 on the beginning and end of this anger. But let the desire Achilles had 
 to revenge himself, and the desire Ulysses had to return to his own country, 
 be never so near allied, yet we cannot place them under one and the same 
 notion: for that desire of Ulysses is not a passion that begins and ends in the 
 poem with the action: it is a natural habit: nor does he propose it for his 
 subject, as he does the anger of Achilles. 
 
 “ What is more usual and natural to warriors than anger, heat, passion, and 
 impatience of bearing the least affront or disrespect? This is what forms the 
 intrigue of the Iliad; and every thing we read there is nothing else but the 
 effect of this humour and these passions. 
 
 “ What more natural and usual obstacle to those who take voyages, than the 
 sea, the winds, and the storms? Homer makes this the intrigue of the first 
 part of the Odyssey: and for the second, he makes use of almost the infallible 
 effect of the long absence of a master, whose return is quite despaired of, viz: 
 the insolence of his servants and neighbours, the danger of his son and wife, 
 and the sequestration of his estate. Besides, an absence of almost twenty 
 years, and the insupportable fatigues, joined to the age of which Ulysses then 
 was, might induce him to believe that he should not be owned by those who 
 thought him dead, and whose interest it was to have him really so. Therefore, 
 if he had presently declared who he was, and had called himself Ulysses, they 
 would have easily destroyed him as an impostor, before he had an opportunity 
 to make himself known. 
 
 “ There could be nothing more natural nor more necessary than this ingenious 
 disguise, to which the advantages Iris enemies had taken of his absence had 
 reduced him, and to which his long misfortunes had inured him. This allowed 
 him an opportunity, without hazarding any thing, of taking the best measures 
 he could, against those persons who could not so much as mistrust any harm 
 1 * 
 
X 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 from him. This way was afforded him, by the very nature of his action, to 
 execute his designs, and overcome the obstacles it cast before him. And it is 
 this contest between the prudence and the dissimulation of a single man on one 
 hand, and the ungovernable insolence of so many rivals on the other, which 
 constitutes the intrigue of the second part of the Odyssey. 
 
 “Of the end or unravelling of the Action. —If the plot or intrigue 
 must be natural, and such as springs from the very subject, then the winding- 
 up of the plot, by a more sure claim, must have this qualification, and be a 
 probable consequence of all that went before. As this is what the readeis 
 regard more than the rest, so should the person be more exact in it. This is 
 the end of the poem, and the last impression that is to be stamped upon them. 
 
 “ We shall find this in the Odyssey. Ulysses by a tempest is cast upon the 
 island of the Phasacians, to whom he discovers himself, and desires they 
 would favour his return to his own country, which was not very far distant. 
 One cannot see why the king of this island should refuse such a reasonable 
 request, to a hero whom he seemed to have in great esteem. The Phoeacians 
 indeed had heard him tell the story of his adventures; and in this fabulous 
 recital consisted all the advantage that he could derive from his presence; for 
 the art of war which they admired in him, his undauntedness under dangers, 
 his indefetigable patience, and other virtues, were such as these islanders were 
 not used to. All their talent lay in singing and dancing, and whatsoever was 
 charming in a quiet life. And here we see how dexterously Homer prepares 
 the incidents he makes use of. These people could do no less, for the account 
 with which Ulysses had so much entertained them, than afford him a ship and 
 a safe convoy, which was of little expense or trouble to them. 
 
 “ When he arrived, his long absence, and the travels which had disfigured 
 him, made him altogether unknown; and the dangers he would have incurred, 
 had he discovered himself too soon, forced him to a disguise: lastly, This 
 disguise gave him an opportunity of surprising those young suitors who, for 
 several years together, had been accustomed to do nothing but sleep well 
 and fare daintily. 
 
 “ It was from these examples that Aristotle drew this rule, that ‘ Whatever 
 concludes the poem, should so spring from the very constitution of the fable, 
 as if it were a necessary, or at least a probable, consequence.’” 
 
THE 
 
 ODYSSEY OF HOMER. 
 
 (i 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Minerva’s Descent to Ithaca; Interview with Telemachus. 
 
 Argument. —The poem opens within forty-eig’ht days of the arrival of 
 Ulysses in his dominions. He had now remained seven years in the 
 island of Calypso, when the g’ods, assembled in council, proposed the 
 method of his departure from thence, and his return to his native country. 
 For this purpose, it is concluded to send Mercury to Calypso, and Pallas 
 immediately descends to Ithaca. She holds a conference with Telemachus, 
 in the shape of Mentes, king' of the Taphians; in which she advises him 
 to take a journey in quest of his father Ulysses, to Pylos and Sparta, where 
 Nestor and Menelaiis yet reig-ned; then, after having" visibly displayed her 
 divinity, disappears. The suitors of Penelop6 make g-reat entertainments, 
 and riot in her palace till night, Phemius sings to them the return of the 
 Grecians, till Penelop€ puts a stop to the song. Some words arise between 
 the suitors and Telemachus, who summons the council to meet the day 
 following. 
 
 The man, for wisdom’s various arts renown’d, 
 
 Long exercised in woes, oh Muse! resound. 
 
 Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall 
 Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall. 
 Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray’d. 
 
 Their manners noted, and their states survey’d. 
 
 On stormy seas unnumber’d toils he bore. 
 
 Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore. 
 
 Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey 
 On herds devoted to the god of day; 10 
 
 The god, vindictive, doom’d them never more 
 (Ah, men unbless’d!) to touch that natal shore. 
 
 Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate. 
 
 Celestial Muse I and to our world relate. 
 
12 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Now at their native realms the Greeks arrived: 
 
 All who the wars of ten long years survived, 
 
 And ’scaped the perils of the gulfy main. 
 
 Ulysses, sole of all the victor train. 
 
 An exile from his dear paternal coast. 
 
 Deplored his absent queen and empire lost. 20 
 
 Calypso in her caves constrain’d his stay. 
 
 With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay: 
 
 In vain; for now the circling years disclose 
 The day predestined to reward his woes. 
 
 At length his Ithaca is given by fate. 
 
 Where yet new labours his arrival wait; 
 
 At length their rage the hostile powers restrain. 
 
 All but the ruthless monarch of the main. 
 
 But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest, 
 
 In Ethiopia graced the genial feast, 30 
 
 (A race divided, whom with sloping rays 
 The rising and descending sun surveys;) 
 
 There on the world’s extremest verge, revered 
 With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr’d. 
 
 Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes 
 Of high Olympus, Jove convened the gods: 
 
 Th’ assembly thus the sire supreme address’d, 
 jEgysthus’ fate revolving in his breast. 
 
 Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast 
 Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted ghost. 40 
 
 “Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free. 
 
 Charge all their woes on absolute decree; 
 
 All to the dooming gods their guilt translate. 
 
 And follies are miscall’d the crimes of fate. 
 
 When to his lust ^gysthus gave the rein, 
 
 Did fate, or we, th’ adulterous act constrain ? 
 
 Did fate, or we, when great Atrides died. 
 
 Urge the bold traitor to the regicide? 
 
 Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain’d 
 Sincere from royal blood, and faith profaned, 50 
 
 To warn the wretch, that young Orestes, grown 
 To manly years, should reassert the throne. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 13 
 
 Yet, impotent of mind, and uncontrol’d. 
 
 He plunged into the gulf which Heaven foretold.” 
 
 Here paused the god; and pensive thus replies 
 Minerva, graceful with her azure eyes: 
 
 “O thou! from whom the whole creation springs. 
 
 The source of power on earth derived to kings! 
 
 His death was equal to the direful deed; 
 
 So may the man of blood be doom’d to bleed: 60 
 
 But grief and rage alternate wound my breast 
 For brave Ulysses, still by fate oppress’d. 
 
 Amidst an isle, around whose rocky shore 
 The forests murmur, and the surges roar. 
 
 The blameless hero from his wished-for home 
 A goddess guards in her enchanted dome: 
 
 (Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye 
 The wonders of the deep expanded lie; 
 
 Th’ eternal columns which on earth he rears 
 
 End in the starry vault, and prop the spheres.) 70 
 
 By his fair daughter is the chief confined. 
 
 Who soothes to dear delight his anxious mind: 
 Successless all her soft caresses prove. 
 
 To banish from his breast his country’s love; 
 
 To see the smoke from his loved palace rise. 
 
 While the dear isle in distant prospect lies. 
 
 With what contentment could he close his eyes? 
 
 And will Omnipotence neglect to save 
 The suffering virtue of the wise and brave? 
 
 Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore 80 
 
 With frequent rites, and pure, avow’d thy power. 
 
 Be doom’d the worst of human ills to prove, 
 
 Unbless’d, abandon’d to the wrath of Jove?” 
 
 '^‘Daughter! what words have pass’d thy lips unweigh’d ?” 
 Replied the Thunderer, to the martial maid: 
 
 “Deem not unjustly by my doom oppress’d 
 Of human race the wisest and the best. 
 
 Neptune, by prayer repentant rarely won. 
 
 Afflicts the chief, t’ avenge his giant son. 
 
 Whose visual orb Ulysses robb’d of light; 90 
 
 Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might! 
 
14 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Him young Thoosa bore (the bright increase 
 Of Phorcys, dreaded in the sounds and seas): 
 
 Whom Neptune eyed with bloom of beauty bless’d, 
 
 And in his cave the yielding nymph compress’d. 
 
 For this, the god constrains the Greek to roam, 
 
 A hopeless exile from his native home. 
 
 From death alone exempt. But cease to mourn; 
 
 Let all combine t’ achieve his wish’d return: 
 
 Neptune atoned, his wrath shall now refrain, 100 
 
 Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain.” 
 
 “Father and king adored!” Minerva cried, 
 
 “Since all who in th^ Olympian bower reside. 
 
 Now make the wandering Greek their public care. 
 
 Let Hermes to th’ Atlantic isle* repair; 
 
 Bid him, arrived in bright Calypso’s court. 
 
 The sanction of th’ assembled powers report: 
 
 That wise Ulysses to his native land 
 Must speed, obedient to their high command. 
 
 Meantime, Telemachus, the blooming heir 110 
 
 Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care: 
 
 ’Tis mine, to form his green, unpractised years. 
 
 In sage debates; surrounded with his peers. 
 
 To save the state, and timely to restrain 
 The bold intrusion of the suitor-train, 
 
 Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power 
 His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour. 
 
 To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste 
 Of sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste. 
 
 There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire, 120 
 
 That from his realm retards his godlike sire: 
 
 Delivering early to the voice of fame 
 The promise of a great, immortal name.” 
 
 She said: the sandals of celestial mould. 
 
 Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold. 
 Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails 
 Th’ a^Hal space, and mounts the winged gales: 
 
 * Ogygia. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 15 
 
 O’er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar, 
 
 Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore, 
 
 Ponderous and vast; which, when her fury burns, 130 
 Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns. 
 
 From high Olympus prone her flight she bends. 
 
 And in the realm of Ithaca descends. 
 
 Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise 
 Of Mentes’ form conceabd from human eyes 
 (Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land): 
 
 A glittering spear waved awful in her hand. 
 
 There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid 
 Enormous riot and misrule survey’d. 
 
 On hides of beeves, before the palace-gate, 140 
 
 (Sad spoils of luxury,) the suitors sate. 
 
 With rival art, and ardour in their mien. 
 
 At chess they vie, to captivate the queen; 
 
 Divining of their loves. Attending nigh, 
 
 A menial train the flowing bowl supply: 
 
 Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare. 
 
 And form the costly feast with busy care. 
 
 There young Telemachus, his bloomy face 
 
 Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace 
 
 Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear— 150 
 
 Painful vicissitude!—his bosom tear. 
 
 Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored 
 In peace and joy the people’s rightful lord; 
 
 The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword. 
 
 While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell’d, 
 
 The stranger-guest the royal youth beheld: 
 
 Grieved that a visitant so long should wait 
 Unmark’d, unhonour’d, at a monarch’s gate. 
 
 Instant he flew with hospitable haste. 
 
 And the new friend with courteous air embraced. 160 
 “ Stranger! whoe’er thou art, securely rest. 
 
 Affianced in my faith, a ready guest: 
 
 Approach the dome, the social banquet share, 
 
 And then the purpose of thy soul declare.” 
 
 Thus affable and mild, the prince precedes. 
 
 And to the dome th’ unknown celestial leads. 
 
16 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 The spear, receiving from her hand, he placed 
 Against a column, fair with sculpture graced; 
 
 Where seemly ranged in peaceful order stood 
 Ulysses’ arms, now long disused to blood. 170 
 
 He led the goddess to the sovereign seat. 
 
 Her feet supported with a stool of state 
 (A purple carpet spread the pavement wide); 
 
 Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side; 
 
 Far from the suitor-train, a brutal crowd, 
 
 With insolence, and wine, elate and loud: 
 
 Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate. 
 
 If, haply, conscious of his father’s fate. 
 
 The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings, 
 
 Replenish’d from the cool, translucent springs; 180 
 
 With copious water the bright vase supplies 
 A silver laver, of capacious size: 
 
 They wash. The tables in fair order spread. 
 
 They heap the glittering canisters with bread: 
 
 Viands of various kinds allure the taste, 
 
 Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! 
 
 Delicious wines th’ attending herald brought; 
 
 The gold gave lustre to the purple draught. 
 
 Lured with the vapour of the fragrant feast. 
 
 In rush’d the suitors with voracious haste: 190 
 
 Marshal’d in order due, to each a sewer 
 Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ewer. 
 
 Luxurious then they feast. Observant round 
 Gay stripling youths the brimming goblets crown’d. 
 
 The rage of hunger quell’d, they all advance, 
 
 And form to measured airs the mazy dance: 
 
 To Phemius was consign’d the chorded lyre. 
 
 Whose hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire: 
 Phemius, whose voice divine could sweetest sing 
 High strains, responsive to the vocal string. 200 
 
 Meanwhile, in whispers to his heavenly guest, 
 
 His indignation thus the prince express’d: 
 
 “Indulge my rising grief, while these, my friend. 
 
 With song and dance the pompous revel end. 
 
I 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 17 
 
 Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays, 
 
 When for the dear delight another pays. 
 
 His treasured stores these cormorants consume. 
 
 Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb 
 And common turf, lie naked on the plain. 
 
 Or doom’d to welter in the whelming main 210 
 
 l^hould he return, that troop, so blithe and bold. 
 
 With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold. 
 Precipitant in fear would wing their flight. 
 
 And curse their cumbrous pride’s unwieldy weight. 
 
 But, ah! I dream: th’ appointed hour is fled; 
 
 And hope, too long with vain delusion fed. 
 
 Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame. 
 
 Gives to the roll of death his glorious name 1 
 
 With venial freedom let me now demand 
 
 Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land; 220 
 
 Sincere, from whence began thy course, recite. 
 
 And to what ship I owe the friendly freight? 
 
 Now first to me this visit dost thou deign. 
 
 Or number’d in my father’s social train? 
 
 All who deserved his choice he made his own. 
 
 And, curious much to know, he far was known.” 
 
 “My birth I boast,” the blue-eyed virgin cries, 
 
 “From great Anchialus, renown’d and wise: 
 
 Mentes my name; I rule the Taphian race. 
 
 Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace: 230 
 A duteous people, and industrious isle. 
 
 To naval arts inured, and stormy toil. 
 
 Freighted with iron from my native land, 
 
 I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand; 
 
 To gain by commerce, for the labour’d mass, 
 
 A just proportion of refulgent brass. 
 
 Far from your capital my ship resides 
 At Reithrus, and secure at anchor rides; 
 
 Where waving groves on airy Neion grow. 
 
 Supremely tall, and shade the deeps below. 240 
 
 TJience to revisit your imperial dome. 
 
 An old hereditary guest I come: 
 
 B 
 
18 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Your father’s friend. Laertes can relate 
 Our faith unspotted, and its early date; 
 
 Who, press’d with heart-corroding grief and years, 
 
 To the gay court a rural shade prefers. 
 
 Where, sole of all his train, a matron sage 
 Supports with homely food his drooping age. 
 
 With feeble steps from marshalling his vines. 
 
 Returning sad, when toilsome day declines. 250 
 
 With friendly speed, induced by erring fame, 
 
 To hail Ulysses’ safe return I came; 
 
 But still the frown of some celestial power 
 With envious joy retards the blissful hour. 
 
 Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair: ' 
 
 He lives, he breathes this heavenly vital air, 
 
 Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds 
 With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds. 
 
 The thoughts which roll within my ravish’d breast. 
 
 To me, no seer, th’ inspiring gods suggest; 260 
 
 Nor skill’d, nor studious, with prophetic eye 
 To judge the winged omens of the sky. 
 
 Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain: 
 
 Though adamantine bonds the chief restrain 
 The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat. 
 
 And soon restore him to his regal seat. 
 
 But, generous youth! sincere and free declare, 
 
 Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir? 
 
 For sure Ulysses in your look appears. 
 
 The same his features, if the same his years. 270 
 
 Such was the face on which I dwelt with joy. 
 
 Ere Greece assembled stemm’d the tides to Troy; 
 
 But, parting then for that detested shore. 
 
 Our eyes, unhappy! never greeted more.” 
 
 “To prove a genuine birth,” the prince replies, 
 
 “On female truth assenting faith relies; 
 
 Thus manifest of right, I build my claim 
 Sure founded on a fair maternal fame, 
 
 Ulysses’ son:' but happier he, whom fate 
 
 Hath placed beneath the storms which toss the great! 280 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 19 
 
 Happier the son, whose hoary sire is bless’d 
 With humble affluence, and domestic rest! 
 
 Happier than I, to future empire born. 
 
 But doom’d a father’s wretched fate to mourn!” 
 
 To whom, with aspect mild, the guest divine: 
 
 “Oh true descendant of a sceptred line! 
 
 The gods a glorious fate, from anguish free. 
 
 To chaste Penelope’s increase decree. 
 
 But say, yon joyful troop, so gaily dress’d. 
 
 Is this a bridal or a friendly feast? 290 
 
 Or from their deeds I inghtlier may divine. 
 
 Unseemly flown with insolence and wine; 
 
 Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy 
 Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye?” 
 
 “Magnificence of old,” the prince replied, 
 
 “Beneath our roof with virtue could reside; 
 
 Unblamed abundance crown’d the royal board. 
 
 What time this dome revered her prudent lord; 
 
 Who now (so Heaven decrees) is doom’d to mourn. 
 
 Bitter constraint! erroneous and forlorn. 900 
 
 Better the chief on Ilion’s hostile plain 
 
 Had fallen, surrounded with his warlike train; 
 
 Or safe return’d, the race of glory pass’d, 
 
 New to his friends’ embrace, had breathed his last! 
 
 Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes would raise 
 Historic marbles to record his praise; 
 
 His praise, eternal on the faithful stone. 
 
 Had with transmissive honour graced his son. 
 
 Now, snatched by harpies to the dreary coast. 
 
 Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost: 910 
 
 Vanish’d at once! unheard of, and unknown! 
 
 And I his heir in misery alone. 
 
 Nor for a dear, lost father only flow 
 The filial tears, but wo succeeds to wo: 
 
 To tempt the spouseless queen with amorous wiles. 
 
 Resort the nobles from the neighbouring isles; 
 
 From Samos, circled with th’ Ionian main, 
 
 Dulichium, and Zacynthus’ sylvan reign: 
 
20 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Ev’n with presumptuous hope her bed t’ ascend,. 
 
 The lords of Ithaca their right pretend. 320 
 
 She seems attentive to their pleaded vows, 
 
 Her heart detesting what her ear allows. 
 
 They, vain expectants of the bridal-hour. 
 
 My stores in riotous expense devour; 
 
 In feast and dance the mirthful months employ. 
 
 And meditate my doom, to crown their joy.’’ 
 
 With tender pity touch’d, the goddess cried: 
 
 “Soon may kind Heaven a sure relief provide. 
 
 Soon may your sire discharge the vengeance due. 
 
 And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue. 330 
 
 Oh! in that portal should the chief appear. 
 
 Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear. 
 
 In radiant panoply his limbs incased 
 (For so of old my father’s court he graced. 
 
 When social mirth unbent his serious soul. 
 
 O’er the full banquet, and the sprightly bowl): 
 
 He then from Ephyr4, the fair domain 
 Of Ilus, sprung from Jason’s royal strain, 
 
 Measured a length of seas, a toilsome length, in vain. 
 
 For, voyaging to learn the direful art 340 
 
 To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart; 
 
 Observant of the gods, and sternly just, 
 
 Ilus refused t’ impart the baneful trust: 
 
 With friendlier zeal my father’s soul was fired. 
 
 The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desired. 
 
 Appear’d he now with such heroic port. 
 
 As then conspicuous at the Taphian court; 
 
 Soon should yon boasters cease their haughty strife. 
 
 Or each atone his guilty love with life. 
 
 But of his wish’d return the care resign; 350 
 
 Be future vengeance to the powers divine. 
 
 My sentence hear: with stern distaste avow’d. 
 
 To their own districts drive the suitor-crowd: 
 
 When next the morning warms the purple east. 
 
 Convoke the peerage, and the gods attest; 
 
 The sorrows of your inmost soul relate; 
 
 And form sure plans to save the sinking state. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Should second love a pleasing flame inspire, 
 
 And the chaste queen connubial rites require; 
 
 Dismiss’d with honour, let her hence repair 
 To great Icarius, whose paternal care 
 Will guide her passion, and reward her choice 
 With wealthy dower, and bridal-gifts of price. 
 
 Then let this dictate of my love prevail: 
 
 Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail. 
 
 To learn your father’s fortunes: fame may prove. 
 
 Or omen’d voice (the messenger of Jove), 
 
 Propitious to the search. Direct you toil 
 Through the wide ocean first to sandy Pyle; 
 
 Of Nestor, hoary sage, his doom demand: 370 
 
 Then speed your voyage to the Spartan strand; 
 
 For young Atrides to th’ Achaian coast 
 Arrived the last of all the victor host. 
 
 If yet Ulysses views the light, forbear, 
 
 Till the fleet hours restore the circling year. 
 
 But if his soul hath wing’d the destined flight. 
 
 Inhabitant of deep, disastrous night; 
 
 Homeward with pious speed repass the main. 
 
 To the pale shade funereal rites ordain. 
 
 Plant the fair column o’er the vacant grave, 380 
 
 A hero’s honours let the hero have. 
 
 With decent grief the royal dead deplored. 
 
 For the chaste queen select an equal lord. 
 
 Then let revenge your daring mind employ. 
 
 By fraud or force the suitor-train destroy. 
 
 And, starting into manhood, scorn the boy. 
 
 Hast thou not heard how young Orestes, fired 
 With great revenge, immortal praise acquired? 
 
 His virgin-sword iEgysthus’ veins imbrued; 
 
 The murderer fell, and blood atoned for blood. 390 
 
 Oh, greatly bless’d with every blooming grace! 
 
 With equal steps the paths of glory trace: 
 
 Join to that royal youth’s your rival name, 
 
 And shine eternal in the sphere of fame.— 
 
 But my associates now my stay deplore. 
 
 Impatient on the hoarse-resounding shore 
 
 21 
 
 360 
 
22 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Thou, heedful of advice, secure proceed; 
 
 My praise the precept is, be thine the deed.” 
 
 “The counsel of my friend,” the youth rejoined, 
 “Imprints conviction on my grateful mind. 400 
 
 So fathers speak (persuasive speech and mild) 
 
 Their sage experience to the favourite child. 
 
 But, since to part, for s’weet refection due. 
 
 The genial viands let my train renew; 
 
 And the rich pledge of plighted faith receive. 
 
 Worthy the heir of Ithaca to give.” 
 
 “Defer the promised boon,” the goddess cries, 
 
 Celestial azure brightening in her eyes, 
 
 “And let me now regain the Reithrian port: 
 
 From Temes4 return’d, your royal court 410 
 
 I shall revisit; and that pledge receive; 
 
 And gifts, memorial of our friendship, leave.” 
 
 Abrupt, with eagle-speed she cut the sky; 
 
 Instant invisible to mortal eye. 
 
 Then first he recognised th’ ethereal guest; 
 
 Wonder and joy alternate fire his breast: 
 
 Heroic thoughts, infused, his heart dilate; 
 
 Revolving much his father’s doubtful fate. 
 
 At length, composed, he joined the suitor-throng; 
 
 Hush’d in attention to the warbled song. 420 
 
 His tender theme the charming lyrist chose, 
 
 Minerva’s anger, and the direful woes 
 Which, voyaging from Troy, the victors bore. 
 
 While storms vindictive intercept the shore. 
 
 The shrilling airs the vaulted roof rebounds. 
 
 Reflecting to the queen the silver sounds. 
 
 With grief renew’d the weeping fair descends; 
 
 Their sovereign’s step a virgin train attends; 
 
 A veil, of richest texture wrought, she wears. 
 
 And silent to the joyous hall repairs. 430 
 
 There from the portal, with her mild command, 
 
 Thus gently checks the minstrel’s tuneful hand: 
 
 “Phemius! let acts of gods, and heroes old, 
 
 What ancient bards in hall and bower have told. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 23 
 
 Attemper’d to the lyre, your voice employ: 
 
 Such the pleased ear will drink with silent joy. 
 
 But, oh! forbear that dear, disastrous name. 
 
 To sorrow sacred, and secure of fame: 
 
 My bleeding bosom sickens at the sound. 
 
 And every piercing note inflicts a wound.” 440 
 
 “Why, dearest object of my duteous love,” 
 
 Replied the prince, “will you the bard reprove? 
 
 Oft, Jove’s ethereal rays (resistless fire) 
 
 The chanter’s soul and raptured song inspire; 
 
 Instinct divine I nor blame severe his choice. 
 
 Warbling the Grecian woes with harp and voice: 
 
 For novel lays attract our ravish’d ears; 
 
 But old, the mind with inattention hears; 
 
 Patient permit the sadly-pleasing strain; 
 
 Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain, 450 
 
 And in the public wo forget your own; 
 
 You weep not for a perish’d lord alone. 
 
 What Greeks now wandering in the Stygian gloom, 
 
 With your Ulysses shared an equal doom I 
 Your widow’d hours, apart, with female toil 
 And various labours of the loom, beguile: 
 
 There rule, from palace-cares remote and free; 
 
 That care to man belongs, and'most to me.” 
 
 Mature beyond his years, the queen admires 
 His sage reply, and with her train retires. 460 
 
 Then swelling sorrows burst their former bounds. 
 
 With echoing grief afresh the dome resounds; 
 
 Till Pallas, piteous of her plaintive cries. 
 
 In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes. 
 
 Meantime, rekindled at the royal charms. 
 
 Tumultuous love each beating bosom warms; 
 
 Intemperate rage a wordy war began; 
 
 But bold Telemachus assumed the man. 
 
 “Instant,” he cried, “your female discord end. 
 
 Ye deedless boasters! and the song attend: 470 
 
 Obey that sweet compulsion, nor profane 
 With dissonance the smooth melodious strain. 
 
24 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Pacific now prolong the jovial feast; 
 
 But when the dawn reveals the rosy east, 
 
 I, to the peers assembled, shall propose 
 The firm resolve, I here in few disclose; 
 
 No longer live the cankers of my court; 
 
 All to your several states with speed resort; 
 
 Waste in wild riot what your land allows, 
 
 There ply the early feast, and late carouse. 480 
 
 But if, to honour lost, ’tis still decreed 
 
 For you my bowl shall flow, my flock shall bleed. 
 
 Judge and revenge my right, impartial Jove!— 
 
 By him, and all th’ immortal thrones above, 
 
 (A sacred oath,) each proud oppressor, slain. 
 
 Shall with inglorious gore this marble stain.” 
 
 Awed by the prince, thus haughty, bold, and young. 
 Rage gnaw’d the lip, and wonder chain’d the tongue. 
 Silence at length the gay Antinoiis broke. 
 
 Constrain’d a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke: 490 
 
 “What god to your untutor’d youth affords 
 This headlong torrent of amazing words? 
 
 May Jove delay thy reign, and cumber late 
 So bright a genius with the toils of state.” 
 
 “Those toils” (Telemachus serene replies) 
 
 “Have charms, with all their weight, t’ allure the wise. 
 Fast by the throne obsequious fame resides. 
 
 And wealth incessant rolls her golden tides. 
 
 Nor let Antinoiis rage, if strong desire 
 
 Of wealth and fame a youthful bosom fire; 500 
 
 Elect by Jove his delegate of sway. 
 
 With joyous pride the summons I’d obey. 
 
 Whene’er Ulysses roams the realm of night. 
 
 Should factious power dispute my lineal right. 
 
 Some other Greeks a fairer claim may plead; 
 
 To your pretence their title would precede. 
 
 At least, the sceptre lost, I still should reign 
 Sole o’er my vassals, and domestic train.” 
 
 To this Eurymachus: “To heaven alone 
 Refer the choice to fill the vacant throne. 510 
 
25 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 Your patrimonial stores in peace possess; 
 
 Undoubted, all your filial claim confess: 
 
 Youi piivate right should impious power invade, 
 
 The peers of Ithaca would arm in aid. 
 
 But say, that stranger-guest, who late withdrew, 
 What and from whence? his name and lineage show. 
 His grave demeanour and majestic grace 
 Speak him descended of no vulgar race : 
 
 Did he some loan of ancient right require. 
 
 Or came fore-runner of your sceptred sire?’' 
 
 “Oh, son of Polybus!” the prince replies, 
 
 “No more my sire will glad these longing eyes: 
 
 The queen’s fond hope inventive rumour cheers, 
 
 Or vain diviners’ dreams divert her fears. 
 
 That stranger-guest the Taphian realm obeys, 
 
 A realm defended with encircling seas. 
 
 Mentes, an ever-honour’d name, of old 
 High in Ulysses’ social list enrol’d.” 
 
 Thus he, though conscious of th’ ethereal guest. 
 Answer’d evasive of the sly request. 
 
 Meantime, the lyre rejoin’d its sprightly lay; 
 Love-dittied airs, and dance, conclude the day. 
 
 But when the star of eve with golden light 
 Adorn’d the matron-brow of sable night. 
 
 The mirthful train, dispersing, quit the court. 
 
 And to their several domes to rest resort. 
 
 A towering structure to the palace join’d: 
 
 To this his steps the thoughtful prince inclined: 
 
 In his pavilion there, to sleep repairs; 
 
 The lighted torch, the sage Euryclea bears; 
 
 (Daughter of Ops, the just Pisenor’s son. 
 
 For twenty beeves by great Laertes won; 
 
 In rosy prime with charms attractive graced. 
 
 Honour’d by him, a gentle lord and chaste. 
 
 With dear esteem: too wise, with jealous strife 
 To taint the joys of sweet, connubial life. 
 
 Sole with Telemachus her service ends, 
 
 A child she nursed him, and a man attends.) 
 
 2 
 
 530 
 
 540 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK I. 
 
 26 
 
 While to his couch himself the ,prificg^address’d, 
 
 The duteous dame received the purple vest; 550 
 
 The purple vest with decent care disposed, 
 
 The silver ring she pull’d, the door reclosed; 
 
 The bolt, obedient to the silken cord. 
 
 To the strong staple’s inmost depth restored. 
 
 Secured the valves. There, wrapt in silent shade. 
 Pensive, the rules the goddess gave, he weigh’d; 
 Stretch’d on the downy fleece, no rest he knows. 
 
 And in his raptured soul the vision glows. 
 
BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 OHeSTNOT HILL. MASS. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 The Council of Ithaca; Departure of Telemachus. 
 
 AncuMENT. —Telemachus, in the assembly of the lords of Ithaca, complains 
 of the injustice done him by the suitors, and insists upon their departure 
 from his palace; appealing" to the princes, and exciting- the people to declare 
 against them. The suitors endeavour to justify their stay, at least till he 
 shall send the queen to the court of Icarius, her father; which he refuses. 
 There appears a prodigy of two eagles in the sky, which an augur expounds 
 to the ruin of the suitors. Telemachus then demands a vessel to carry him 
 to Pylos and Sparta, there to inquire of his father’s fortunes. Pallas, in 
 the shape of Mentor, (an ancient friend of Ulysses,) helps him to a ship, 
 assists him in preparing necessaries for the voyage, and embarks with him 
 that night; which concludes the second day from the opening of the poem. 
 The scene continues in the palace of Ulysses, in Ithaca. 
 
 Now reddening from the dawn, the morning-ray 
 Glow’d in the front of heaven, and gave the day. 
 
 The youthful hero, with returning light. 
 
 Rose anxious from th’ inquietudes of night. 
 
 A royal robe he wore with graceful pride, 
 
 A two-edged faulchion threaten’d by his side, 
 
 Embroider’d sandals glitter’d as he trod, 
 
 And forth he moved, majestic as a god. 
 
 Then by his heralds, restless of delay, 
 
 To council calls the peers: the peers obey. 10 
 
 Soon as in solemn form th’ assembly sate, 
 
 From his high dome himself descends in state. 
 
 Bright in his hand a ponderous javelin shined; 
 
 Two dogs, a faithful guard, attend behind; 
 
 Pallas with grace divine his form improves, 
 
 . And gazing crowds admire him as he moves. 
 
 His father’s throne he fill’d: while distant stood 
 The hoary peers, and aged wisdom bow’d. 
 
 ’Twas silence all. At last ^Egyptius spoke; 
 iEgyptius, by his age and sorrows broke: 
 
 20 
 
28 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 A length of days his soul with prudence crown^'d, 
 
 A length of days that bent him to the ground. 
 
 His eldest hope* in arms to Ilion came, 
 
 By great Ulysses taught the path to fame; 
 
 But—hapless youth!—the hideous Cyclops tore 
 His quivering limbs, and quaff’d his spouting gore. 
 Three sons remain’d: to climb with haughty fires 
 The royal bed, Eurynomus aspires; 
 
 The rest with duteous love his griefs assuage. 
 
 And ease the sire of half the cares of age. 
 
 Yet still his Antiphus he loves, he mourns. 
 
 And, as he stood, he spoke and wept by turns: 
 
 “Since great Ulysses sought the Phrygian plains 
 Within these walls, inglorious silence reigns. 
 
 Say then, ye peers I by whose commands we meet 
 Why here once more in solemn council sit? 
 
 Ye young, ye old, the weighty cause disclose: 
 Arrives some message of invading foes? 
 
 Or say, does high necessity of state 
 Inspire some patriot, and demand debate? 
 
 The present synod speaks its author wise: 
 
 Assist him, Jove, thou regent of the skies!” 
 
 He spoke. Telemachus with transport glows. 
 Embraced the omen, and majestic rose; 
 
 (His royal hand th’ imperial sceptre sway’d;) 
 
 Then thus, addressing to ^Egyptius, said: 
 
 “Reverend old man! lo, here confess’d he stands 
 By whom ye meet; my grief your care demands. 
 No story I unfold of public woes, 
 
 Nor bear advices of impending foes: 
 
 Peace the bless’d land, and joys incessant crown: 
 Of all this happy realm, I grieve alone. 
 
 For my lost sire continual sorrows spring. 
 
 The great, the good; your father, and your king. 
 Yet more, our house from its foundation bows, 
 
 Our foes are powerful, and your sons the foes: 
 
 * Antiphus. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 29 
 
 Hither, unwelcome to the queen, they come: 
 
 Why seek they not the rich Icarian dome? 
 
 If she must wed, from other hands require 
 
 The dowry: is Telemachus her sire? 60 
 
 Yet through my court the noise of revel rings. 
 
 And wastes the wise frugality of kings. 
 
 Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice; 
 
 Scarce all my wine their midnight hours supplies. 
 
 Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow. 
 
 Nor in*the helpless orphan dread a foe. 
 
 But come it will, the time when manhood grants 
 More powerful advocates than vain complaints. 
 
 Approach that hour! insufferable wrong 
 
 Cries to the gods, and vengeance sleeps too long. 70 
 
 Rise then, ye peers! with virtuous anger rise; 
 
 Your fame revere, but most th’ avenging skies. 
 
 By all the deathless powers that reign above. 
 
 By righteous Themis and by thundering Jove, 
 
 (Themis, who gives to councils, or denies. 
 
 Success; and humbles, or confirms the wise,) 
 
 Rise in my aid! suffice the tears that flow 
 For my lost sire, nor add new wo to wo. 
 
 If e’er he bore the sword to strengthen ill, 
 
 Or, having power to wrong, betray’d the will, 80 
 
 On me, on me your kindled wrath assuage. 
 
 And bid the voice of lawless riot rage. 
 
 If ruin to our royal race ye doom. 
 
 Be you the spoilers, and our wealth consume. 
 
 Then might we hope redress from juster laws. 
 
 And raise all Ithaca to aid our cause: 
 
 But while your sons commit th’ unpunish’d wrong. 
 
 You make the arm of violence too strong.” 
 
 While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown’d. 
 And dash’d th’ imperial sceptre to the ground. 90 
 
 The big round tear hung trembling in his eye: 
 
 The synod grieved, and gave a pitying sigh, 
 
 Then silent sate. At length, Antinoiis burns 
 With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns: 
 
30 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 ‘‘Oh, insolence of youth! whose tongue affords 
 Such railing eloquence, and war of words. 
 
 Studious thy country’s worthies to defame. 
 
 Thy erring voice displays thy mother’s shame. 
 
 Elusive of the bridal-day, she gives 
 
 Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives. 
 
 Did not the sun, through heaven’s wide azure roll d. 
 For three long years the royal fraud behold ? 
 
 While she, laborious in delusion spread 
 
 The spacious loom, and mix’d the various thread: 
 
 Where as to life the wondrous figures rise. 
 
 Thus spoke th’ inventive queen, with artful sighs: 
 
 “‘Though, cold in death, Ulysses breathes no more. 
 Cease yet awhile to urge the bridal-hour: 
 
 Cease, till to great Laertes I bequeath 
 A task of grief, his ornaments of death. 
 
 Lest when the Fates his royal ashes claim. 
 
 The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame; 
 
 When he whom, living, mighty realms obey’d. 
 
 Shall want, in death, a shroud to grace his shade.’ 
 
 “Thus she: at once the generous train complies. 
 Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue’s fair disguise. 
 
 The work she plied; but, studious of delay. 
 
 By night reversed the labours of the day. 
 
 While thrice the sun his annual journey made, 
 
 The conscious lamp the midnight fraud survey’d; 
 Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail; 
 
 The fourth, her maid unfolds th’ amazing tale. 
 
 We saw, as unperceived we took our stand. 
 
 The backward labours of her faithless hand. 
 Then urged, she perfects her illustrious toils; 
 
 A wondrous monument of female wiles 1— 
 
 But you, oh peers! and thou, oh prince 1 give ear 
 (I speak aloud, that every Greek may hear): 
 Dismiss the queen: and, if her sire approves. 
 
 Let him espouse her to the peer she loves: 
 
 Bid instant to prepare the bridal-train. 
 
 Nor let a race of princes wait in vain. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 31 
 
 Though with a grace divine her soul is bless’d, 
 
 And all Minerva breathes within her breast, 
 
 In wondrous arts than woman more renown’d, 
 
 And more than woman with deep wisdom crown’d; 
 Though Tyro nor Mycene match her name, 
 
 Nor great Alcmena (the proud boasts of fame); 
 
 Yet, thus by Heaven adorn’d, by Heaven’s decree. 
 
 She shines with fatal excellence to thee: 140 
 
 With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast. 
 
 Till righteous Heaven reclaim her stubborn breast. 
 
 What though from pole to pole resounds her name! 
 
 The son’s destruction waits the mother’s fame: 
 
 For, till she leaves thy court, it is decreed. 
 
 Thy bowl to empty, and thy flock to bleed.” 
 
 While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies: 
 
 “Even nature starts, and what ye ask denies. 
 
 Thus, shall I thus repay a mother’s cares, 
 
 Who gave me life, and nursed my infant years? 150 
 While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads. 
 
 Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades; 
 
 How to Icarius in the bridal-hour 
 
 Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dower? 
 
 How from my father should I vengeance dread! 
 
 How would my mother curse my hated head! 
 
 And while in wrath to vengeful fiends she cries, 
 
 How from their hell would vengeful fiends arise! 
 Abhorr’d by all, accursed my name would grow. 
 
 The earth’s disgrace, and human-kind my foe. 160 
 
 If this displease, why urge ye here your stay? 
 
 Haste from the court, ye spoilers, haste away: 
 
 Waste in wild riot what your land allows. 
 
 There ply the early feast, and late carouse. 
 
 But if, to honour lost, ’tis still decreed. 
 
 For you my bowl shall flow, my flock shall bleed; 
 
 Judge and assert my right, impartial Jove! 
 
 By him, and all th’ immortal hosts above, 
 
 (A sacred oath,) if heaven the power supply, 
 
 Vengeance I vow, and for your wrongs ye die.” 
 
 170 
 
32 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 With that, two eagles from a mountain’s height, 
 
 By Jove’s command, direct their rapid flight; 
 
 Swift they descend, with wing to wing conjoin’d. 
 
 Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind; 
 Above th’ assembled peers they wheel on high. 
 
 And clang their wings, and hovering beat the sky; 
 
 With ardent eyes the rival train they threat. 
 
 And, shrieking loud, denounce approaching fate. 
 
 They cuff, they tear; their cheeks and necks they rend, 
 And from their plumes huge drops of blood descend; 180 
 Then, sailing o’er the domes and towers, they fly 
 Full tow’rd the east, and mount into the sky. 
 
 The wondering rivals gaze with cares oppress’d. 
 
 And chilling horrors freeze in every breast. 
 
 Till big with knowledge of approaching woes 
 The prince of augurs, Halitherses, rose: 
 
 Prescient he view’d the aerial tracks, and drew 
 A sure presage from every wing that flew. 
 
 “Ye sons,” he cried, “of Ithaca, give ear. 
 
 Hear all! but chiefly you, oh rivals 1 hear. 190 
 
 Destruction sure o’er all your heads impends; 
 
 Ulysses comes, and death his steps attends. 
 
 Nor to the great alone is death decreed; 
 
 We and our guilty Ithaca must bleed! 
 
 Why cease we then the wrath of heaven to stay? 
 
 Be humbled all, and lead, ye great 1 the way. 
 
 For, lo! my words no fancied woes relate: 
 
 I speak from science, and the voice is fate. 
 
 When great Ulysses sought the Phrygian shores. 
 
 To shake with war proud Ilion’s lofty towers, 200 
 
 Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold: 
 
 Heaven seal’d my words, and you these deeds behold. 
 
 H see,’ I cried, ‘his woes, a countless train; 
 
 I see his friends o’erw^helmed beneath the main; 
 
 How twice ten years from shore to shore he roams;’ 
 
 Now twice ten years are past, and now he comes.” 
 
 To whom Eurymachus: “Fly, dotard, fly! 
 
 With thy wise dreams, and fables of the sky. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 33 
 
 Go prophesy at home, thy sons advise: 
 
 Here thou art sage in vain^—-I better read the skies. 210 
 Unnumber’d birds glide through the aerial way, 
 
 Vagrants of air, and unforeboding stray. 
 
 Cold in the tomb, or in the deeps below, 
 
 Ulysses lies!—Oh, wert thou laid as low! 
 
 Then would that busy head no broils suggest, 
 
 Nor fire to rage Telemachus’s breast. 
 
 From him some bribe thy .venal tongue requires. 
 
 And interest, not the god, thy voice inspires. 
 
 His guideless youth, if thy experienced age 
 
 Mislead fallacious into idle rage, 220 
 
 Vengeance deserved thy malice shall repress, 
 
 And but augment the wrongs thou wouldst redress: 
 Telemachus may bid the queen repair 
 To great Icarius, whose paternal care 
 Will guide her passion, and reward her choice, 
 
 With wealthy dower, and bridal-gifts of price. 
 
 Till she retires, determined we remain. 
 
 And both the prince and augur threat in vain: 
 
 His pride of words, and thy wild dream of fate. 
 
 Move not the brave, or only move their hate. 230 
 
 Threat on, O prince! elude the bridal-day. 
 
 Threat on, till all thy stores in waste decay. 
 
 True, Greece affords a train of lovely dames, 
 
 In wealth and beauty worthy of our flames: 
 
 But never from this nobler suit we cease; 
 
 For wealth and beauty less than virtue please.” 
 
 To whom the youth: “Since then in vain I tell 
 My numerous woes, in silence let them dwell. 
 
 But Heaven, and all the Greeks, have heard my wrongs; 
 To Heaven, and all the Greeks, redress belongs. 240 
 Yet this I ask, (nor be it asked in vain,) 
 
 A bark to waft me o’er the rolling main. 
 
 The realms of Pyle and Sparta to explore, 
 
 And seek my royal sire from shore to shore: 
 
 If, or to fame his doubtful fate be known, 
 
 Or to be learn’d from oracles alone. 
 
 2 * C 
 
34 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 If yet he lives, with patience I forbear, 
 
 Till the fleet hours restore the circling year: 
 
 But if already wandering in the train 
 
 Of empty shades, I measure back the main, 2o0 
 
 Plant the fair column o’er the mighty dead. 
 
 And yield his consort to the nuptial bed.” 
 
 He ceased; and while abash’d the peers attend. 
 
 Mentor arose, Ulysses’ faithful friend: 
 
 [When fierce in arms he sought the scenes of war, 
 
 “My friend,” he cried, “my palace be thy care; 
 
 Years roll’d on years my godlike sire decay. 
 
 Guard thou his age, and his behests obey.”] 
 
 Stern as he rose he cast his eyes around. 
 
 That flash’d with rage; and, as he spoke, he frown’d: 200 
 “Oh, never, never more, let king be just, 
 
 Be mild in power, or faithful to his trust! 
 
 Let tyrants govern with an iron rod. 
 
 Oppress, destroy, and be the scourge of God: 
 
 Since he who like a father held his reign. 
 
 So soon forgot, was just and mild in vain! 
 
 True, while my friend is grieved, his griefs I share; 
 
 Yet now the rivals are my smallest care: 
 
 They, for the mighty mischiefs they devise. 
 
 Ere long shall pay—their forfeit lives the price, 270 
 
 But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train! 
 
 Gods! how my soul is moved with just disdain! 
 
 Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords 
 His injured prince the little aid of words.” 
 
 While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoin’d: 
 
 “ Oh, pride of words, and arrogance of mind! 
 
 Would’st thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise? 
 
 Join all your powers! in arms, ye Greeks, arise! 
 
 Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose: 
 
 The valiant few o’ermatch a host of foes. 280 
 
 Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms. 
 
 While the bowl circles, and the banquet warms; 
 
 Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies, 
 
 Torn from her breast, that hour, Ulysses dies. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 35 
 
 But hence retreating, to your domes repair; 
 
 To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care. 
 
 And, Halitherses! thine: be each his friend; 
 
 Ye loved the father: go, the son attend. 
 
 But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay 
 Safe in the court, nor tempt the watery way.” 290 
 
 Then, with a rushing sound, th’ assembly bend 
 Diverse their steps: the rival rout ascend 
 The royal dome: while sad the prince explores 
 The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores. 
 There, as the waters o’er his hands he shed, 
 
 The royal suppliant to Minerva pray’d: 
 
 “Oh, goddess! who, descending from the skies. 
 Vouchsafed thy presence to my wandering eyes, 
 
 By whose commands the raging deeps I trace. 
 
 And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas! 300 
 
 Hear from thy heavens above, oh, warrior maid! 
 
 Descend once more, propitious to my aid! 
 
 Without thy presence, vain is thy command: 
 
 Greece and the rival train thy voice withstand.” 
 
 Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took 
 Sage Mentor’s form, and thus like Mentor spoke: 
 
 “Oh, prince! in early youth divinely wise. 
 
 Born, th’ Ulysses of thy age to rise! 
 
 If to the son the father’s worth descends, 
 
 O’er the wide waves success thy ways attends: 310 
 
 To tread the walks of death he stood prepared; 
 
 And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared. 
 
 Were not wise sons descendent of the wise. 
 
 And did not heroes from brave heroes rise. 
 
 Vain were my hopes; few sons attain the praise 
 Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace. 
 
 But since thy veins paternal virtue fires. 
 
 And all Penelop6 thy soul inspires. 
 
 Go, and succeed! the rivals’ aims despise; 
 
 For never, never, wicked man was wise. 320 
 
 Blind they rejoice, though now, ev’n now they fall; 
 
 Death nastes amain: one hour o’erwhelms them all! 
 
36 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 And lo, with speed we plough the watery way; 
 
 My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey: 
 
 The winged vessel studious I prepare, 
 
 Through seas and realms companion of thy care. 
 
 Thou to the court ascend: and to the shores 
 (When night advances) bear the naval stores; 
 
 Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies. 
 
 And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies. 330 
 Meanwhile, the mariners, by my command. 
 
 Shall speed aboard, a valiant, chosen band. 
 
 Wide o’er the bay, by vessel vessel rides: 
 
 The best I choose to waft thee o’er the tides.” 
 
 She spoke: to his high dome the prince returns. 
 
 And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns. 
 
 ’Twas riot all, among the lawless train; 
 
 Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain. 
 
 Arrived, his hand the gay Antinoiis press’d, 
 
 And thus, deriding, with a smile address’d: 340 
 
 “Grieve not, oh daring prince! that noble heart: 
 
 Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part. 
 
 Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul. 
 
 Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl. 
 Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides 
 The bark, to waft thee o’er the swelling tides.” 
 
 “Is this,” returns the prince, “for mirth a time? 
 
 When lawless gluttons.riot, mirth’s a crime; 
 
 The luscious wines, dishonour’d, lose their taste; 
 
 The song is noise, and impious is the feast. 350 
 
 Suffice it to have spent with swift decay 
 The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey. 
 
 But now the wise instructions of the sage. 
 
 And manly thoughts inspired by manly age. 
 
 Teach me to seek redress for all my wo. 
 
 Here, or in Pyle—in Pyle, or here, your foe. 
 
 Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain: 
 
 A private voyager I pass the main. 
 
 Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow, 
 
 And where on earth I live, I live your foe ” 
 
 360 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 37 
 
 He spoke, and frown’d; nor longer deign’d to stay, 
 Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away. 
 
 Meantime, o’er all the dome, they quaff, they feast. 
 Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest. 
 
 And each in jovial mood his mate address’d: 
 
 “Tremble ye not, oh friends! and coward fly. 
 
 Doom’d by the stern Telemachus to die? 
 
 To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies. 
 
 Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies: 
 
 Or comes from Ephyr6 with poisons fraught! 370 
 
 And kills us all in one tremendous draught!” 
 
 “Or who can say,” his gamesome mate replies, 
 
 “But, while the dangers of the deeps he tries. 
 
 He, like his sire, may sink deprived of breath. 
 
 And punish us unkindly by his death? 
 
 What mighty labours would he then create. 
 
 To seize his treasures, and divide his state. 
 
 The royal palace to the queen convey. 
 
 Or him she blesses in the bridal-day!” 
 
 Meantime, the Jofty room the prince surveys, 380 
 Where lay the treasures of th’ Ithacian race: 
 
 Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blazed; 
 
 There polish’d chests embroider’d vestures graced: 
 
 Here jars of oil breathed forth a rich perfume; 
 
 There casks of wine in rows adorn’d the dome: 
 
 (Pure, flavorous wine, by gods in bounty given. 
 
 And worthy to exalt the feasts of heaven.) 
 
 Untouch’d they stood, till, his long labours o’er. 
 
 The great Ulysses reach’d his native shore. 
 
 A double strength of bars secured the gates: 390 
 
 Fast by the door the wise Euryclea waits: 
 
 Euryclea, who, great'Ops! thy lineage shared. 
 
 And watch’d all night, ail day a faithful guard. 
 
 To whom the prince: “Oh thou, whose guardian care 
 Nursed the most wretched king that’breathes the air! 
 Untouch’d and sacred may these vessels stand. 
 
 Till great Ulysses views his native land. 
 
 But by thy care twelve urns of wine be fill’d; 
 
 Next these in worth, and firm those urns be scal’d; 
 
38 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 And twice ten measures of the choicest flour 400 
 
 Prepared, ere yet descends the evening hour; 
 
 For when the favouring shades of night arise, 
 
 And peaceful slumbers close my mother’s eyes, 
 
 Me from our coast shall spreading sails convey. 
 
 To seek Ulysses through the watery way.” 
 
 While yet he spoke, she fill’d the walls with cries. 
 
 And tears ran trickling from her aged eyes. 
 
 “Oh, whither, whither flies my son?” she cried; 
 
 “To realms, that rocks and roaring seas divide? 
 
 In foreign lands thy father’s days decay’d, 410 
 
 And foreign lands contain the mighty dead. 
 
 The watery way ill-fated if thou try. 
 
 All, all must perish, and by fraud you die! 
 
 Then stay, my child! storms beat, and roll the main, 
 
 Oh, beat those storms, and roll the seas in vain!” 
 
 “Far hence,” replied the prince, “thy fears be driven: 
 Heaven calls me forth; these counsels are of Heaven. 
 But, by the powers that hate the perjured, swear. 
 
 To keep my voyage from the royal ear. 
 
 Nor uncompel’d the dangerous truth betray, 420 
 
 Till twice six times descends the lamp of day: 
 
 Lest the sad tale a mother’s life impair. 
 
 And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.” 
 
 Thus he. The matron, with uplifted eyes. 
 
 Attests th’ all-seeing sovereign of the skies. 
 
 Then studious she prepares the choicest flour. 
 
 The strength of wheat, and wines an ample store; 
 
 While to the rival train the prince returns. 
 
 The martial goddess with impatience burns; 
 
 Like thee, Telemachus, in voice- and size, 430 
 
 With speed divine from street to street she flies; 
 
 She bids the mariners, prepared, to stand. 
 
 When night descends,, embodied on the strand. 
 
 Then to Noemon swift she runs, she flies. 
 
 And asks a bark: the chief a bark supplies. 
 
 And now, declining, with his sloping wheels, 
 
 Down sunk the sun behind the western hills. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK II. 
 
 The goddess shoved the vessel from the shores, 
 
 And stow’d within its womb the naval stores. 
 
 Fnil in the openings of the spacious main 
 It rides; and now descends the sailor-train. 
 
 Next, to the court, impatient of delay. 
 
 With rapid steps the goddess urged her way; 
 
 There every eye with slumbrous chains she bound. 
 
 And dash’d the flowing goblet to the ground. 
 
 Drowsy they rose, with heavy fumes oppress’d, 
 
 Reel’d from the palace, and retired to rest. 
 
 Then thus, in Mentor’s reverend form array’d, 
 
 Spoke to Telemachus the martial maid: 
 
 ‘‘Lo! on the seas, prepared the vessel stands, 450 
 
 Th’ impatient mariner thy speed demands.” 
 
 Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace she leads; 
 
 The footsteps of the deity he treads. 
 
 Swift to the shore they move: along the strand 
 The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand. 
 
 He bids them bring their stores; th’ attending train 
 Load the tall bark, and launch into the main. 
 
 The prince and goddess to the stern ascend; 
 
 To the strong stroke at one the rowers bend. 
 
 Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow; 460 
 The sable billows foam and roar below. 
 
 The chief his orders gives: th’ obedient band 
 With due observance wait the chief’s command: 
 
 With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind 
 The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind. 
 
 High o’er the roaring waves the spreading sails 
 Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales; 
 
 The crooked keel the parting surge divides. 
 
 And to the stern retreating roll the tides. 
 
 And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine 470 
 The holy goblet to the powers divine: 
 
 Imploring all the gods that reign above. 
 
 But chief the blue-eyed progeny of Jove. 
 
 Thus all the night they stem the liquid way, 
 
 And end their voyage with the morning ray. 
 
 39 
 
 440 
 

 B 0 0 K 111. 
 
 The Interview of Telemachus and Nestor. 
 
 Argument. —Telemachus, g-uided by Pallas in the shape of Mentor, arrives 
 in the morning" at Pylos, where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing" on the 
 sea-shore to Neptune. Telemachus declares the occasion of his coming", 
 and Nestor relates what passed in their return from Troy, how their fleets 
 were separated, and he never since heard of Ulysses. They discourse 
 concerning" the death of Ag"araemnon, the revenge of Orestes, and the 
 injuries of the suitors. Nestor advises him to go to Sparta, and inquire 
 further of Menelatis. The sacrifice ended with the night, Minerva 
 vanishes from them in the form of an eagle. Telemachus is lodged in 
 the palace. The next morning they sacrifice a bullock to Minerva; and 
 Telemachus proceeds on his journey to Sparta, attended by Pisistratus. 
 The scene lies on the sea-shore of Pylos. 
 
 The sacred sun, above the waters raised, 
 
 Through heaven’s eternal, brazen portals blazed; 
 
 And wide o’er earth diffused his cheering ray. 
 
 To gods and men to give the golden day. 
 
 Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls 
 Before old Neleus’ venerable walls. 
 
 There, suppliant to the monarch of the flood. 
 
 At nine green theatres the Pylians stood. 
 
 Each held five hundred, (a deputed train,) 
 
 At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain. 
 
 They taste the entrails, and the altars load 
 With smoking thighs, an offering to the god. 
 
 Full for the port the Ithacensians stand. 
 
 And furl their sails, and issue on the land. 
 
 Telemachus already press’d the shore; 
 
 Not first, the power of wisdom march’d before. 
 
 And, ere the sacrificing throng he join’d. 
 
 Admonish’d thus his well-attending mind: 
 
 “Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel: 
 
 An honest business never blush to tell. 
 
 20 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain, 
 
 We pass’d the wide, immeasurable main. 
 
 Meet then the senior, far renown’d for sense. 
 
 With reverend awe, but decent confidence: 
 
 Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies; 
 
 And sure he will: for wisdom never lies.” 
 
 “Oh, tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide,” 
 
 The youth with prudent modesty replied, 
 
 “How shall I meet, or how accost the sage, 
 
 Unskill’d in speech, nor yet mature of age? 
 
 Awful th’ approach, and hard the task appears. 
 
 To question wisely men of riper years.” 
 
 To whom the martial goddess thus rejoin’d: 
 “Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind 
 And others, dictated by heavenly power. 
 
 Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour: 
 
 For nought unprosperous shall thy ways attend. 
 
 Born with good omens, and with Heaven thy friend.” 
 
 She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed: 
 
 As swift, the youth pursued the way she led; 
 
 And join’d the band before the sacred fire. 
 
 Where sate, encompass’d with his sons, the sire. 
 
 The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood 
 Transfix’d the fragments, some prepared the food; 
 
 In friendly throngs they gather to embrace 
 Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place. 
 Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands. 
 
 And spread soft hides upon the yellow sands; 
 
 Along the shore th’ illustrious pair he led. 
 
 Where Nestor sate with youthful Thrasymed. 
 
 To each a portion of the feast he bore. 
 
 And held the golden goblet foaming o’er; 
 
 Then first approaching to the elder guest. 
 
 The latent goddess in these words address’d: 
 
 “Whoe’er thou art, whom fortune brings to keep 
 The rites of Neptune, monarch of the deep, 
 
 Thee first it fits, oh stranger! to prepare 
 The due libation and the solemn prayer; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 42 
 
 Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine: 
 
 Though much thy younger, and his years like mine, 60 
 He too, I deem, implores the powers divine: 
 
 For all mankind alike require their grace. 
 
 All born to want; a miserable race 
 
 He spake; and to her hand prefer^d the bowl: 
 
 A secret pleasure touch’d Athena’s soul. 
 
 To see the preference due to sacred age 
 Regarded ever by the just and sage. 
 
 Of Ocean’s king she then implored the grace: 
 
 “Oh, thou! whose arms this ample globe embrace. 
 Fulfil our wish, and let thy glory shine 
 On Nestor first, and Nestor’s royal line; 
 
 Next grant the Pylian states their just desires. 
 
 Pleased with their hecatomb’s ascending fires; 
 
 Last, deign Telemachus and me to bless. 
 
 And crown our voyage with desired success.” 
 
 Thus she; and, having paid the rite divine. 
 
 Gave to Ulysses’ son the rosy wine. 
 
 Suppliant he pray’d. And now, the victims dress’d. 
 They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast. 
 
 The banquet done, the narrative old man, 8i 
 
 Thus mild, the pleasing conference began: 
 
 “Now, gentle guests! the genial banquet oer. 
 
 It fits to ask ye, what your native shore, 
 
 And whence your race? on what adventure, say. 
 
 Thus far ye wander through the watery way? 
 
 Relate, if business, or the thirst of gain. 
 
 Engage your journey o’er the pathless main: 
 
 Where savage pirates seek through Seas unknown 
 The lives of others, venturous of their own.” 
 
 Urged by the precepts by the goddess given, 9 
 
 And fill’d with confidence infused from Heaven, 
 
 The youth, whom Pallas destined to be wise 
 And famed among the sons of men, replies: 
 
 “Inquir’st thou, father! from what coast we came? 
 (Oh, grace and glory of the Grecian name!) 
 
 From where high Ithaca o’erlooks the floods, 
 
 Brown with o’er-arching shades and pendant woods, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 43 
 
 Us to these shores our filial duty draws 
 A private sorrow, not a public cause. 
 
 My sire I seek, where’er the voice of fame 100 
 
 Has told the glories of his noble name. 
 
 The great Ulysses; famed from shore to shore 
 For valour much, for hardy suffering more. 
 
 Long time with thee before proud Ilion’s wall 
 In arms he fought; with thee beheld her fall. 
 
 Of all the chiefs, this hero’s fate alone 
 
 Has Jove reserved, unheard of, and unknown; 
 
 Whether in fields by hostile fury slain, 
 
 Or sunk by tempests in the gulfy main? 
 
 Of this to learn, oppress’d with tender fears, 110 
 
 Lo, at thy knee his suppliant son appears. 
 
 If or thy certain eye, or curious ear. 
 
 Have learned his fate, the whole dark story clear: 
 
 And, oh! whate’er Heaven destined to betide. 
 
 Let neither flattery smoothe, nor pity hide. 
 
 Prepared I stand: he was but born to try 
 The lot of man; to suffer, and to die. 
 
 Oh! then, if ever through the ten years’ war 
 The wise, the good Ulysses claim’d thy care; 
 
 If e’er he join’d thy council, or thy sword, 120 
 
 True in his deed, and constant to his word; 
 
 Far as thy mind through backward time can see, 
 
 Search all thy stores of faithful memory: 
 
 ’Tis sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.” 
 
 To him experienced Nestor thus rejoin’d: 
 
 “ Oh, friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind! 
 
 Shall I the long, laborious scene review. 
 
 And open all the wounds of Greece anew ? 
 
 What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey 
 Dauntless we roved; Achilles led the way: 130 
 
 What toils by land \ where mix’d in fatal fight 
 Such numbers fell, such heroes sunk to night: 
 
 There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave, 
 
 There wise Patroclus, fill an early grave: 
 
 There too my son—ah! once my best delight, 
 
 Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight; 
 
44 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 In whom stern courage with soft virtue join’d, 
 
 A faultless body, and a blameless mind; ’ 
 
 Antilochus-What more can I relate? 
 
 How trace the tedious series of our fate? 140 
 
 Not added years on years my task could close, 
 
 The long historian of my country’s woes: 
 
 Back to thy native islands might’st thou sail, 
 
 And leave half-heard the melancholy tale. 
 
 Nine painful years on that detested shore. 
 
 What stratagems we form’d, what toils we bore! 
 
 Still labouring on, till scarce at last we found 
 Great Jove propitious, and our conquest crown’d. 
 
 Far o’er the rest thy mighty father shined. 
 
 In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind. 150 
 
 Art thou the son of that illustrious sire? 
 
 With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire. 
 
 So like your voices, and your words so wise. 
 
 Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes. 
 
 Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught 
 In public sentence, or in private thought; 
 
 Alike to council, or th’ assembly came. 
 
 With equal souls, and sentiments the same. 
 
 But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn’d. 
 
 And in their ships the conquering Greeks return’d, 160 
 ’Twas God’s high will the victors to divide. 
 
 And turn th’ event, confounding human pride: 
 
 Some he destroy’d, some scatter’d as the dust, 
 
 (Not all were prudent, and not all were just.) 
 
 Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above. 
 
 Stern daughter of the great avenger, Jove, 
 
 The brother-kings inspired with fell debate; 
 
 Who call’d to council all th’ Achaian state; 
 
 But call’d untimely (not the sacred rite 
 
 Observed, nor heedful of the setting light, 170 
 
 Nor herald sworn the session to proclaim). 
 
 Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe they came. 
 
 To these the cause of meeting they explain, 
 
 And Menelaiis moves to ci'oss the main; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 45 
 
 Not so the king of men; he will’d to stay, 
 
 The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay, 
 
 And calm Minerva’s wrath. Oh, blind to fate! 
 
 The gods not lightly change their love or hate. 
 
 With ireful taunts each other they oppose. 
 
 Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose. 180 
 
 Now different counsels every breast divide. 
 
 Each burns with rancour to the adverse side: 
 
 Th’ unquiet night strange projects entertain’d 
 (So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain’d). 
 
 We, with the rising morn, our ships unmoor’d. 
 
 And brought our captives and our stores aboard; 
 
 But half the people with respect obey’d 
 The king of men, and at his bidding staid. 
 
 Now on the wings of winds our course we keep 
 
 (For God had smooth’d the waters of the deep); 190 
 
 For Tenedos we spread our eager oars. 
 
 There land, and pay due victims to the powers. 
 
 To bless our safe return, we join in prayer; 
 
 But angry Jove dispersed our vows in air. 
 
 And raised new discord. Then (so Heaven decreed) 
 Ulysses first and Nestor disagreed: 
 
 Wise as he was, by various counsels sway’d. 
 
 He there, though late, to please the monarch, staid. 
 
 But I, determined, stem the foamy floods. 
 
 Warn’d of the coming fury of the gods. 200 
 
 With us, Tydides fear’d, and urged his haste. 
 
 And Menelaus came, but came the last. 
 
 He join’d our vessels in the Lesbian bay. 
 
 While yet we doubted of our watery way; 
 
 If to the right to urge the pilot’s toil, 
 
 (The safer road,) beside the Psyrian isle: 
 
 Or the straight course to rocky Chios plough. 
 
 And anchor under Mimas’ shaggy brow? 
 
 We sought direction of the power divine: 
 
 The god propitious gave the guiding sign; 210 
 
 Through the mild seas he bid our navy steer. 
 
 And in Euboea shun the woes we fear. 
 
46 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 The whistling winds already waked the sky; 
 
 Before the whistling winds the vessels fly, 
 
 With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way, 
 
 And reach Gerestus at the point of day. 
 
 There hecatombs of bulls, to Neptune slain, 
 
 High-flaming please the monarch of the main. 
 
 The fourth day shone, when, all their labours o’er, 
 Tydides’ vessels touch’d the wish’d-for shore. 220 
 
 But I to Pylos scud before the gales. 
 
 The god still breathing on my swelling sails; 
 
 Separate from all, I safely landed here; 
 
 Their fates or fortunes never reach’d my ear. 
 
 Yet what I learn’d, attend; as here I sate. 
 
 And ask’d each voyager each hero’s fate; 
 
 Curious to know, and willing to relate: 
 
 Safe reach’d the Myrmidons their native land. 
 
 Beneath Achilles’ warlike son’s command. 
 
 Those, whom the heir of great Apollo’s art, 230 
 
 Brave Philoctetes, taught to wing the dart; 
 
 And those whom Idomen from Ilion’s plain 
 Had led, securely cross’d the dreadful main. 
 
 How Agamemnon touch’d his Argive coast. 
 
 And how his life by fraud and force he lost. 
 
 And how the murderer paid his forfeit breath. 
 
 What lands so distant from that scene of death 
 But trembling heard the fame? and, heard, admire 
 How well the son appeased his slaughter’d sire! 
 
 Ev’n to th’ unhappy, that unjustly bleed, 240 
 
 Heaven gives posterity, t’ avenge the deed. 
 
 So fell ^gysthus; and may’st thou, my friend, 
 
 (On whom the virtues of thy sire descend,) 
 
 Make future times thjr equal act adore. 
 
 And be what brave Orestes was before!” 
 
 The prudent youth replied: “Oh thou, the grace 
 And lasting glory of the Grecian race! 
 
 Just was the vengeance, and to latest days 
 Shall long posterity resound the praise. 
 
 Some god this arm with equal prowess bless! 
 
 And the proud suitors shall its force confess: 
 
 250 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 47 
 
 Injurious men! who, while my soul is sore 
 Of fresh affronts, are meditating more. 
 
 But Heaven denies this honour to my hand. 
 
 Nor shall my father repossess the land: 
 
 The father’s fortune never to return. 
 
 And the sad son’s to suffer and to mourn.” 
 
 Thus he; and Nestor took the word: “My son. 
 
 Is it then true, as distant rumours run. 
 
 That crowds of rivals, for thy mother’s charms, 2G0 
 Thy palace fill with insults and alarms? 
 
 Say, is the fault, through tame submission, thine? 
 
 Or, leagued against thee, do thy people join. 
 
 Moved by some oracle, or voice divine? 
 
 And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate 
 An hour of vengeance for th’ afflicted state; 
 
 When great Ulysses shall suppress these harms, 
 
 Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms. 
 
 But if Athena, war’s triumphant maid. 
 
 The happy son will, as the father, aid, 270 
 
 (Whose fame and safety was her constant care 
 In every danger and in every war: 
 
 Never on man did heavenly favour shine 
 With rays so strong, distinguish’d, and divine. 
 
 As those with which Minerva mark’d thy sire,) 
 
 So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire! 
 
 Soon should their hopes in humble dust be laid. 
 
 And long oblivion of the bridal-bed.” 
 
 “Ah! no such hope,” the prince with sighs replies, 
 
 “Can touch my breast; that blessing Heaven denies. 280 
 Ev’n by celestial favour were it given. 
 
 Fortune or fate would cross the will of Heaven.” 
 
 “What words are these, and what imprudence thine?” 
 (Thus interposed the martial maid divine.) 
 
 “Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above 
 With ease can save each object of his love: 
 
 Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace; 
 
 Nor lost in time, nor circumscribed by place. 
 
 Happier his lot, who, many sorrows past. 
 
 Long labouring, gains his natal shore at last; 
 
 290 
 
I 
 
 48 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 Than who, too speedy, hastes to end his life 
 By some stern ruffian, or adulterous wife. 
 
 Death only is the lot which none can miss, 
 
 And all is possible to Heaven, but this. 
 
 The best, the dearest favourite of the sky 
 Must taste that cup, for man is born to die.’’ 
 
 Thus check’d, replied Ulysses’ prudent heir: 
 
 ‘‘Mentor, no more: the mournful thought forbear; 
 
 For he no more must draw his country’s breath. 
 
 Already snatch’d by fate, and the black doom of death! 300 
 Pass we to other subjects; and engage 
 On themes remote the venerable sage, 
 
 (Who thrice has seen the perishable kind 
 Of men decay, and through three ages shined 
 Like gods majestic, and like gods in mind; 
 
 For much he knows, and just conclusions draws 
 From various precedents, and various laws. 
 
 Oh, son of Neleus! awful Nestor, tell 
 How he, the mighty Agamemnon, fell; 
 
 By what strange fraud jFgysthus wrought, relate, 310 
 (By force he could not,) such a hero’s fate ? 
 
 Lived Menelaiis not in Greece? or where 
 Was then the martial brother’s pious care? 
 
 Condemn’d perhaps some foreign shore to tread; 
 
 Or sure iEgysthus had not dared the deed.” 
 
 To whom the full of days: “Illustrious youth, 
 
 Attend (though partly thou hast guess’d) the truth. 
 
 For had the martial Menelaiis found 
 The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground, 
 
 Nor earth had hid his carcase from the skies, 320 
 
 Nor Grecian virgins shriek’d his obsequies; 
 
 But fowls obscene dismember’d his remains, 
 
 And dogs had torn him on the naked plains. 
 
 While us the works of bloody Mars employ’d. 
 
 The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy’d; 
 
 He, stretch’d at ease in Argos’ calm recess, 
 
 (Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures bless,) 
 
 With flattery’s insinuating art 
 
 Sooth’d the frail queen, and poison’d all her heart. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 49 
 
 At first, with worthy shame and decent pride, 330 
 
 The royal dame his lawless suit denied: 
 
 For virtue’s image yet possess’d her mind, 
 
 Taught by a master of the tuneful kind: 
 
 Atrides, parting for the Trojan war. 
 
 Consign’d the youthful consort to his care. 
 
 True to his charge, the bard preserved her long 
 In honour’s limits; such the power of song. 
 
 But when the gods these objects of their hate 
 Dragg’d to destruction by the links of fate; 
 
 The bard they banish’d from his native soil, 340 
 
 And left all helpless in a desert isle: 
 
 There he, the sweetest of the sacred train. 
 
 Sung, dying, to the rocks; but sung in vain. 
 
 ! Then virtue was no more ; her guard away, 
 
 She fell, to lust a voluntary prey. 
 
 Ev’n to the temple stalk’d th’ adulterous spouse. 
 
 With impious thanks, and mockery of vows, 
 j With images, with garments, and with gold; 
 
 And odorous fumes from loaded altars roll’d. 
 
 Meantime, from flaming Troy we cut the way, 350 
 
 With Menelaiis, through the curling sea. 
 
 But when to Sunium’s sacred point we came. 
 
 Crown’d with the temple of th’ Athenian dame; 
 
 Atrides’ pilot, Phrontes, there expired: 
 
 (Phrontes, of all the sons of men admired 
 To steer the bounding bark with steady toil. 
 
 When the storm thickens, and the billows boil;) 
 
 While yet he exercised the steersman’s art, 
 
 Apollo touch’d him with his gentle dart; 
 
 Ev’n with the rudder in his hand, he fell; 360 
 
 To pay whose honours to the shades of hell. 
 
 We check’d our haste, by pious office bound. 
 
 And laid our old companion in the ground. 
 
 And now, the rites discharged, our course we keep 
 Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep: 
 
 Soon as Malsea’s misty tops arise. 
 
 Sudden the Thunderer blackens all the skies, 
 
 3 D 
 
50 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 And. the winds whistle, and the surges roll 
 Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole. 
 
 The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet; 370 
 
 Part, the storm urges on the coast of Crete, 
 
 Where, winding round the rich Cydonian plain, 
 
 The streams of Jardan issue to the main. 
 
 There stands a rock, high, eminent, and steep, 
 
 Whose shaggy brow overhangs the shady deep, 
 
 And views Gortyna on the western side; 
 
 On this rough Auster drove th’ impetuous tide; 
 
 W^ith broken force the billows roll’d away. 
 
 And heaved the fleet into the neighbouring bay. 
 
 Thus saved from death, they gain’d the Phsestan shoies, 380 
 With shatter’d vessels and disabled oars: 
 
 But five tall barks the winds and waters tost, 
 
 Far from their fellows, on th’ ^Fgyptian coast. 
 
 There wander’d Menelaus through foreign shores. 
 Amassing gold, and gathering naval stores; 
 
 While cursed jFgysthus the detested deed 
 By fraud fulfill’d, and his great brother bled. 
 
 Seven years, the traitor rich Mycenae sway d. 
 
 And his stern rule the groaning land obey’d; 
 
 The eighth, from Athens to his realm restored, 390 
 
 Orestes brandish’d the revenging sword. 
 
 Slew the dire pair, and gave to funeral flam© 
 
 The vile assassin and adulterous dame. 
 
 That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease. 
 Return’d Atrides to the coast of Greece, 
 
 And safe to Argos’ port his navy brought. 
 
 With gifts of price and ponderous treasure fraught. 
 Hence warn’d, my son, beware! nor idly stand 
 Too long a stranger to thy native land; 
 
 Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth away. 
 While lawless feasters in thy palace sway; 
 
 Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil; 
 And thou return, w'ith disappointed toil. 
 
 From thy vain journey, to a rifled isle. 
 
 Howe’er, my friend, indulge one labour more. 
 And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore. 
 
51 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 He, wandering long, a wider circle made. 
 
 And many-languaged nations has survey’d; 
 
 And measured tracks unknown to other ships 
 Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps; 410 
 
 (A length of ocean and unbounded sky. 
 
 Which -scarce the sea-fowl in a year o’erfly:) 
 
 Go, then; to Sparta take the watery way. 
 
 Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay; 
 
 Or, if by land thou choose thy course to bend. 
 
 My steeds, my chariots, and my sons, attend: 
 
 Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey, 
 
 Guides of thy road, companions of thy way. 
 
 Urge him with truth to frame his free replies. 
 
 And sure he will: for Menelaus is wise.” 420 
 
 Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun descends. 
 
 And twilight gray her evening shade extends. 
 
 Then thus the blue-eyed maid: “Oh, full of days! 
 
 Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways. 
 
 Now immolate the tongues, and mix the wine. 
 
 Sacred to Neptune and the powers divine. 
 
 The lamp of day is quench’d beneath the deep. 
 
 And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep: 
 
 Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast. 
 
 Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.” 430 
 
 So spake Jove’s daughter, the celestial maid. 
 
 The sober train attended and obey’d. 
 
 The sacred heralds on their hands around 
 Pour’d the full urns; the youths the goblets crown’d: 
 
 From bowl to bowl the holy beverage flows; 
 
 While to the final sacrifice they rose. 
 
 The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame. 
 
 And pour, above, the consecrated stream. 
 
 And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay’d. 
 
 The youthful hero and th’ Athenian maid 440 
 
 Propose departure from the finish’d rite. 
 
 And in their hollow bark to pass the night: 
 
 But this the hospitable sage denied. 
 
 “Forbid it Jove, and all the gods!” he cried. 
 
62 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 “Thus from my walls the much-loved son to send 
 Of such a hero and of such a friend! 
 
 Me, as some needy peasant, would you leave. 
 
 Whom Heaven denies the blessing to relieve? 
 
 Me would you leave, who boast imperial sway, 
 
 When beds of royal state invite your stay? * 450 
 
 No: long as life this mortal shall inspire, 
 
 Or as my children imitate their sire. 
 
 Here shall the wandering stranger find his home. 
 
 And hospitable rites adorn the dome.” 
 
 “Well hast thou spoke,” the blue-eyed maid replies, 
 Beloved old man! benevolent as wise. 
 
 Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey’d. 
 
 And let thy words Telemachus persuade: 
 
 He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue; 
 
 I to the ships, to give the orders due, 460 
 
 Prescribe directions, and confirm the crew. 
 
 For I alone sustain their naval cares. 
 
 Who boast experience from these silver hairs; 
 
 All youths the rest, whom to this journey move 
 Like years, like tempers, and their prince’s love. 
 
 There in the vessel shall I pass the night; 
 
 And soon as morning paints the fields of light, 
 
 I go to challenge from the Caucon’s bold, 
 
 A debt, contracted in the days of old. 
 
 But this thy guest, received with friendly care, 470 
 
 Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta bear: 
 
 Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day, 
 
 And be thy son companion of his way.” 
 
 Then, turning with the word, Minerva flies. 
 
 And soars an eagle through the liquid skies. 
 
 Vision divine! the throng’d spectators gaze 
 In holy wonder fix’d, and still amaze. 
 
 But chief the reverend sage admired; he took 
 The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke: 
 
 “Oh, happy youth! and favour’d of the skies, 480 
 Distinguish’d care of guardian deities! 
 
 Whose early years for future worth engage, 
 
 No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 53 
 
 For, lo! none other of the court above 
 Than she, the daughter of almighty Jove, 
 
 Pallas herself, the war-triumphant maid. 
 
 Confess’d is thine, as once thy father’s aid. 
 
 So guide me, goddess! so propitious shine 
 On me, my consort, and my royal line! 
 
 A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke, ' 
 Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke. 
 
 With ample forehead, and yet tender horns. 
 
 Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns.” 
 
 Submissive thus the hoary sire preferr’d 
 His holy vow: the favouring goddess heard. 
 
 Then, slowly rising, o’er the sandy space 
 Precedes the father, follow’d by his race, 
 
 (A long procession,) timely marching home 
 In comely order to the regal dome. 
 
 There, when arrived, on thrones around him placed. 
 His sons and grandsons the wide circle graced. 
 
 To these the hospitable sage, in sign 
 Of social welcome, mix’d the racy wine 
 (Late from the mellowing cask restored to light. 
 
 By ten long years refined, and rosy bright). 
 
 To Pallas high the foaming bowl he crown’d, 
 
 And sprinkled large libations on the ground. 
 
 Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares. 
 
 And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs. 
 
 Deep in a rich alcove the prince was laid. 
 
 And slept beneath the pompous colonnade: 
 
 Fast by his side Pisistratus lay spread, 
 
 (In age his equal,) on a splendid bed: 
 
 But in an inner court, securely closed. 
 
 The reverend Nestor and his queen reposed. 
 
 When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn. 
 
 With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn; 
 
 The old man early rose, walk’d forth, and sate 
 On polish’d stone before his palace-gate: 
 
 With unguents smooth the lucid marble shone. 
 Where ancient Neleus sate, a rustic throne; 
 
 490 
 
 500 
 
 510 
 
 520 
 
54 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 But he descending to th’ infernal shade, 
 
 Sage Nestor fill’d it, and the sceptre sway’d. 
 
 His sons around him mild obeisance pay. 
 
 And duteous take the orders of the day. 
 
 First Echephron and Stratius quit their bed; 
 
 Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed; 
 
 The last Pisistratus arose from rest: 
 
 They came, and near him placed the stranger-guest. 
 
 To these the senior thus declared his will: ‘ 530 
 
 “ My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil. 
 
 To Pallas, first of gods, prepare the feast. 
 
 Who graced our rites, a more than mortal guest. 
 
 Let one, dispatchful, bid some swain to lead 
 A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead; 
 
 One seek the harbour, where the vessels moor. 
 
 And bring thy friends, Telemachus, ashore: 
 
 (Leave only two the galley to attend;) 
 
 Another to Laerceus must we send. 
 
 Artist divine, whose skilful hands infold 540 
 
 The victim’s horn with circumfusile gold. 
 
 The rest may here the pious duty share. 
 
 And bid the handmaids for the feast prepare. 
 
 The seats to range, the fragrant wood to bring, 
 
 And limpid waters from the living spring.” 
 
 He said; and busy each his care bestow’d: 
 
 Already at the gates the bullock low’d, 
 
 Already came the Ithacensian crew. 
 
 The dextrous smith the tools already drew: 
 
 His ponderous hammer and his anvil sound, 550 
 
 And the strong tongs to turn the metal round. 
 
 Nor was Minerva absent from the rite. 
 
 She view’d her honours, and enjoy’d the sight; 
 
 With reverend hand the king presents the gold. 
 
 Which round th’ intorted horns the gilder roll’d, 
 
 So wrought, as Pallas might with pride behold. 
 
 Young Aretus from forth his bridal-bower 
 Brought the full laver o’er their hands to pour, 
 
 And canister’s of consecrated flour. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 55 
 
 Stratius and Echephron the victim led: 560 
 
 The axe v^as held by warlike Thrasymed, 
 
 In act to strike: before him Perseus stood, 
 
 The vase extending to receive the blood. 
 
 The king himself initiates to the power; 
 
 Scatters with quivering hand the sacred flour, 
 
 And the stream sprinkles: from the curling brows 
 The hair collected in the fire he throws. 
 
 Soon as due vows on every part were paid. 
 
 And sacred wheat upon the victim laid. 
 
 Strong Thrasymed discharged the speeding blow 570 
 Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two. 
 
 Down sunk the heavy beast; the females round. 
 
 Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound. 
 
 Nor scorned the queen the holy choir to join; 
 
 (The first-born she, of old Clymenus’ line; 
 
 In youth by Nestor loved, of spotless fame. 
 
 And loved in age, Eurydic4 her name.) 
 
 From earth they rear him, struggling now with death; 
 And Nestor’s youngest stops the vents of breath. 
 
 The soul for ever flies: on all sides round 580 
 
 Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground. 
 The beast they then divide, and disunite 
 The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite: 
 
 On these, in double cawls involved with art. 
 
 The choicest morsels lay from every part. 
 
 The sacred sage before his altar stands. 
 
 Turns the burnt-offering with his holy hands. 
 
 And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire; 
 
 The youth with instruments surround the fire. 
 
 The thighs now sacrificed, and entrails dress’d, 590 
 
 Th’ assistants pa-i't, transfix, and broil the rest. 
 
 While these officious tend the rites divine. 
 
 The last fair branch of the Nestorian line. 
 
 Sweet Polycast^, took the pleasing toil 
 To bathe the prince, and pour the fragrant oil. 
 
 O’er his fair limbs a flowery vest he threw. 
 
 And issued, like a god, to mortal view. 
 
56 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK III. 
 
 His former seat beside the king he found 
 (His people’s father, with his peers around); 
 
 All placed at ease the holy banquet join, 600 
 
 And in the dazzling goblet laughs the wine. 
 
 The rage of thirst and hunger now suppress’d. 
 
 The monarch turns him to his royal guest; 
 
 And for the promised journey bids prepare 
 The smooth-hair’d horses and the rapid car. 
 
 Observant of his word, the word scarce spoke. 
 
 The sons obey, and join them to the yoke. 
 
 Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings, 
 
 And presents, such as suit the state of kings. 
 
 The glittering seat Telemachus ascends; 610 
 
 His faithful guide Pisistratus attends; 
 
 With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew: 
 
 He lash’d the coursers, and the coursers flew. 
 
 Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held 
 Their equal pace, and smoked along the field. 
 
 The towers of Pylos sink, its views decay. 
 
 Fields after fields fly back till close of day: 
 
 Then sunk the sun, and darken’d all the way. 
 
 To Pherse now, Diocleus’ stately seat, 
 
 (Of Alpheus’ race,) the weary youths retreat. 620 
 
 His house afibrds the hospitable rite. 
 
 And pleased they sleep (the blessing of the night). 
 
 But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn. 
 
 With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn. 
 
 Again they mount, their journey to renew. 
 
 And from the sounding portico they flew. 
 
 Along the waving fields their way they hold. 
 
 The fields receding as their chariot roll’d: 
 
 Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light. 
 
 And o’er the shaded landscape rush’d the night. 
 
 630 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 The Conference of Telemachus with Menelaus. 
 
 Argument. —Telemachus with Prsistratus “arriving- at Sparta, is hospitably 
 received by Menelaus^ to whom he relates the cause of his coming-, and 
 learns from him many particulars of what befel the Greeks since the 
 destruction of Troy. He dwells at larg-e upon the prophecies of Proteus 
 to him in his return; from which he acquaints Telemachus, that Ulysses 
 is detained in the island of Calypso. 
 
 In the mean time, the suitors consult to destroy Telemachus in his voyag-e 
 home. Penelop^ is apprised of this; but is comforted in a dream by 
 Pallas, in the shape of her sister Iphthimb. 
 
 And now proud Sparta with their wheels resounds, 
 Sparta, whose walls a range of hills surrounds: 
 
 At the fair dome the rapid labour ends; 
 
 Where sate Atrides ’midst his bridal friends. 
 
 With double vows invoking Hymen’s power. 
 
 To bless his son’s and daughter’s nuptial hour. 
 
 That day, to great Achilles’ son resign’d, 
 
 Hermion^, the fairest of her kind. 
 
 Was sent to crown the long-protracted joy. 
 
 Espoused before the final doom of Troy: 10 
 
 With steeds and gilded cars, a gorgeous train 
 Attend the nymph to Phthia’s distant reign. 
 
 Meanwhile, at home, to Megapenthes’ bed 
 The virgin-choir Alector’s daughter led. 
 
 Brave Megapenthes, from a stol’n amour 
 To great Atrides’ age’his handmaid bore: 
 
 To Helen’s bed the gods alone assign 
 Hermion^, t’ extend the regal line; 
 
 On whom a radiant pomp of graces wait. 
 
 Resembling Venus in attractive state. 20 
 
 While this gay friendly troop the king surround, 
 
 With festival and mirth the roofs resound: 
 
 3 * 
 
68 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 A bard amid the joyous circle sings 
 High airs, attemper’d to the vocal strings: 
 
 While, warbling to the varied strain, advance 
 Two sprightly youths to form the bounding dance. 
 
 ’Twas then that, issuing through the palace-gate. 
 
 The splendid car roll’d slow in regal state: 
 
 On the bright eminence young Nestor shone. 
 
 And fast beside him great Ulysses son: 30 
 
 Grave Eteoneus saw the pomp appear. 
 
 And, speeding, thus address’d the royal ear. 
 
 “Two youths approach, whose semblant features prove 
 Their blood devolving from the source of Jove. 
 
 Is due reception deign’d, or must they bend 
 Their doubtful course to seek a distant friend?” 
 
 “ Insensate!” with a sigh the king replies, 
 
 “Too long, misjudging, have I thought thee wise: 
 
 But sure relentless folly steels thy breast. 
 
 Obdurate to reject the stranger-guest; 40 
 
 To those dear hospitable rites a foe. 
 
 Which in my wanderings oft relieved my wo; 
 
 Fed by the bounty of another’s board. 
 
 Till pitying Jove my native realm restored. 
 
 Straight be the coursers from the car leleased. 
 
 Conduct the youth to grace the genial feast.” 
 
 The seneschal, rebuked, in haste withdrew; 
 
 With equal haste a menial train pursue: 
 
 Part led the coursers, from the car enlarged. 
 
 Each to a crib with choicest grain surcharged; 5( 
 
 Part in a portico, profusely graced 
 
 W^ith rich magnificence, the chariot placed: 
 
 Then to the dome the friendly pair invite' 
 
 Who eye the dazzling roofs with vast delight; 
 Resplendent as the blaze of summer-noon. 
 
 Or the pale radiance of the midnight-moon. 
 
 From room to room their eager view they bend; 
 
 Thence to the bath, a beauteous pile, descend; 
 
 Where a bright damsel-train attends the guests 
 
 With liquid odours, and embroider’d vests. 6i 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 59 
 
 Refresh’d, they wait them to the bower of state, 
 
 Where circled with his peers Atrides sate: 
 
 Throned next the king, a fair attendant brings 
 The purest product of the crystal springs; 
 
 High on a massy vase of silver mould. 
 
 The burnish’d laver flames with solid gold; 
 
 In solid gold the purple vintage flows. 
 
 And on the board a second banquet rose. 
 
 When thus the king with hospitable port: 
 
 “Accept this welcome to the Spartan court; 70 
 
 The waste of nature let the feast repair, 
 
 Then your high lineage and your names declare: 
 
 Say from what sceptred ancestry ye claim. 
 
 Recorded eminent in deathless fame? 
 
 For vulgar parents cannot stamp their race 
 With signatures of such majestic grace.” 
 
 Ceasing, benevolent he straight assigns 
 The royal portion of the choicest chines 
 To each accepted friend: with grateful haste 
 They share the honours of the rich repast. 80 
 
 Sufficed, soft whispering thus to Nestor’s son. 
 
 His head reclined, young Ithacus begun: 
 
 “View’st thou unmoved, oh, ever-honour’d most! 
 
 These prodigies of art, and wondrous cost 1 
 Above, beneath, around the palace shines 
 The sumless treasure of exhausted mines; 
 
 The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay. 
 
 And studded amber darts a golden ray: 
 
 Such, and not nobler, in the realms above. 
 
 My wonder dictates, is the dome of Jove.” 90 
 
 The monarch took the word, and grave replied: 
 “Presumptuous are the vaunts, and vain the pride 
 Of man, who dares in pomp with Jove contest. 
 Unchanged, immortal, and supremely bless’d! 
 
 With all my affluence, when my woes are weigh’d. 
 
 Envy will own the purchase dearly paid. 
 
 For eight slow-circling years by tempests toss’d. 
 
 From Cyprus to the far Phoenician coast 
 
60 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 (Sidon the capital), I stretch’d my toil 
 
 Through regions fatten’d with the flows of Nile* 100 
 
 Next, .Ethiopia’s utmost bounds explore. 
 
 And the parch’d borders of th’ Arabian shore: 
 
 Then warp my voyage on the southern gales. 
 
 O’er the warm Libyan wave to spread my sails: 
 
 That happy clime! where each revolving year 
 The teeming ewes a triple offspring bear; 
 
 And two fair crescents of translucent horn 
 The brows of all their young increase adorn; 
 
 The shepherd swains, with sure abundance bless’d. 
 
 On the fat flock and rural dainties feast: 110 
 
 Nor want of herbage makes the dairy fail. 
 
 But every season fills the flowing pail. 
 
 While, heaping unwish’d wealth, I distant roam, 
 
 The best of brothers at his natal home. 
 
 By the dire fury of a traitress wife. 
 
 Ends the sad evening of a stormy life: 
 
 Whence with incessant grief my soul annoy’d. 
 
 These riches are possess’d, but not enjoy’d; 
 
 My wars, the copious theme of every tongue. 
 
 To you, your fathers have recorded long; 120 
 
 How favouring Heaven repaid my glorious toils 
 With a sack’d palace, and barbaric spoils. 
 
 Oh I had the gods so large a boon denied. 
 
 And life, the just equivalent, supplied 
 To those brave warriors, who, with glory fired. 
 
 Far from their country, in my cause expired 1 
 Still in short intervals of pleasing wo. 
 
 Regardless of the friendly dues I owe, 
 
 I to the glorious dead, for ever dear 1 , 
 
 Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear. 130 
 
 But, oh! Ulysses—deeper than the rest 
 That sad idea wounds my anxious breast! 
 
 My heart bleeds fresh with agonizing pain; 
 
 The bowl and tasteful viands tempt in vain; 
 
 Nor sleep’s soft power can close my streaming eyes, 
 When imaged to my soul his sorrows rise. 
 
'THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 G1 
 
 No peril in my cause he ceased to prove, 
 
 His labours equaPd only by my love: 
 
 And both alike to bitter fortune born, 
 
 For him to suffer, and for me to mourn! ^ 140 
 
 Whether he wanders on some friendly coast, 
 
 Or glides in Stygian gloom a pensive ghost, 
 
 No fame reveals; but, doubtful of his doom. 
 
 His good old sire with sorrow to the tomb 
 Declines his trembling steps; untimely care 
 Withers the blooming vigour of his heir; 
 
 And the chaste partner of his bed and throne 
 Wastes all her widow’d hours in tender moan.” 
 
 While thus pathetic to the prince he spoke. 
 
 From the brave youth the streaming passion broke: 150 
 Studious to veil the grief, in vain repress’d. 
 
 His face he shrouded with his purple vest: 
 
 The conscious monarch pierced the coy disguise. 
 
 And view’d his filial love with vast surprise: 
 
 Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait 
 To hear the youth inquire his father’s fate. 
 
 In this suspense, bright Helen graced the room; ^ 
 
 Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume. 
 
 So moves, adorn’d with each attractive grace, 
 
 The silver-shafted goddess of the chase. ^ 100 
 
 The seat of majesty Adrast6 brings. 
 
 With art illustrious, for the pomp of kings; 
 
 To spread the pall (beneath the regal chair) 
 
 Of softest wool, is bright Alcippe’s care. 
 
 A silver canister, divinely wrought. 
 
 In her soft hands the beauteous Phylo brought; 
 
 To Sparta’s queen of old the radiant vase 
 Alcandra gave, a pledge of royal grace: 
 
 For Poly bus her lord (whose sovereign sway 
 The wealthy tribes of Pharian Thebes obey), 170 
 
 When to that court Atrides came, caress’d 
 With vast munificence th’ imperial guest; 
 
 Two lavers, from the richest ore refined. 
 
 With silver tripods, the kind host assign’d: 
 
G2 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 And bounteous from the royal treasure told 
 Ten equal talents of refulgent gold. 
 
 Alcandra, consort of his high command, 
 
 A golden distaff gave to Helen’s hand; 
 
 And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought, 
 Which heap’d with wool the beauteous Phylo brought 
 The silken fleece, impurpled for the loom, 
 
 Rivals the hyacinth in vernal bloom. 
 
 The sovereign seat then Jove-born Helen pi ess d, 
 And, pleasing, thus her sceptred lord address’d: ^ 
 “Who grace our palace now, that friendly pair. 
 Speak they their lineage, or their names declare? 
 Uncertain of the truth, yet uncontrol’d. 
 
 Hear me the bodings of my breast unfold. 
 
 With wonder wrapt, on yonder cheek I trace 
 The feature of the Ulyssean race: 
 
 Diffused o’er each resembling line appear. 
 
 In just similitude, the grace and air 
 Of young Telemachus! the lovely boy. 
 
 Who bless’d Ulysses with a father’s joy. 
 
 What time the Greeks combined their social arms, 
 T’ avenge the stain of my ill-fated charms! 
 
 “Just is thy thought,” the king assenting cries; 
 '‘Methinks Ulysses strikes my wondering eyes; 
 
 Full shines the father in the filial frame. 
 
 His port, his features, and his shape the same: 
 
 Such quick regards his sparkling eyes bestow; 
 
 Such wavy ringlets o’er his shoulders flow. 
 
 And when he heard the long, disastrous store 
 Of cares, which in my cause Ulysses bore; 
 Dismay’d, heart-wounded with paternal woes. 
 Above restraint the tide of sorrow rose: 
 
 Cautious to let the gushing grief appear. 
 
 His purple garment veil’d the falling tear.” 
 
 “See there confess’d,” Pisistratus replies, 
 
 “ The genuine worth of Ithacus the wise 1 
 Of thdt heroic sire the youth is sprung, 
 
 Bu. » 4 iodest awe hath chain’d his timorous tongue. 
 
 : 180 
 
 190 
 
 200 
 
 210 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 63 
 
 Thy voice, O king! with pleased attention heard, 
 
 Is like the dictates of a god revered. 
 
 With him at Nestor’s high command I came. 
 
 Whose age I honour with a parent’s name. 
 
 By adverse destiny constrain’d to sue 
 For counsel and redress, he sues to you. 
 
 Whatever ill the friendless orphan bears. 
 
 Bereaved of parents in his infant years, 220 
 
 Still must the wrong’d Telemachus sustain. 
 
 If, hopeful of your aid, he hopes in vain: 
 
 Affianced in your friendly power alone. 
 
 The youth would vindicate the vacant throne.” 
 
 “Is Sparta bless’d, and these desiring eyes 
 View my friend’s son?” the king exulting cries; 
 
 “Son of my friend, by glorious toils approved. 
 
 Whose sword was sacred to the man he loved: 
 
 Mirror of constant faith, revered and mourn’d!— 
 
 When Troy was ruin’d, had the chief return’d, 230 
 
 No Greek an equal space had a’er possess’d 
 Of dear affection in my grateful breast. 
 
 I, to confirm the mutual joys we shared. 
 
 For his abode a capital prepared: 
 
 Argos the seat of sovereign rule I chose; 
 
 Fair in the plan the future palace rose. 
 
 Where my Ulysses and his race might reign. 
 
 And portion to his tribes the wide domain. 
 
 To them my vassals had resign’d a soil. 
 
 With teeming plenty to reward their toil. 240 
 
 There with commutual zeal we both had strove 
 In acts of dear benevolence and love: 
 
 Brothers in peace, not rivals in command. 
 
 And death alone dissolved the friendly band! 
 
 Some envious power the blissful scene destroys: 
 
 Vanish’d are all the visionary joys; 
 
 The soul of friendship to my hope is lost. 
 
 Fated to wander from his natal coast!” 
 
 He ceased; a gust of grief began to rise: 
 
 Fast stream’d a tide from beauteous Helen’s eyes; 
 
 250 
 
64 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 Fast for the sire the filial sorrows flow; 
 
 The weeping monarch swells the mighty wo: 
 
 Thy cheeks, Pisistratus, the tears bedew, 
 
 While pictured to thy mind appear’d in view 
 Thy martial brother:* on the Phrygian plain 
 Extended pale, by swarthy Memnon slain 1 
 But silence soon the son of Nestor broke. 
 
 And, melting with fraternal pity, spoke: 
 
 “Frequent, O king, was Nestor wont to raise 
 And charm attention with thy copious praise; 260 
 
 To crown thy various gifts, the sage assign’d 
 The glory of a firm, capacious mind: 
 
 With that superior atribute, control 
 This unavailing impotence of soul. 
 
 Let not your roof with echoing grief resound. 
 
 Now for the feast the friendly bowl is crown’d; 
 
 But when from dewy shade emerging bright, 
 
 Aurora streaks the sky with orient light. 
 
 Let each deplore his dead: the rites of wo 
 
 Are all, alas! the living can bestow: 276 
 
 O’er the congenial dust enjoin’d to shear 
 
 The graceful curl, and drop the tender tear. 
 
 Then, mingling in the mournful pomp with you, 
 ril pay my brother’s ghost a warrior’s due. 
 
 And mourn the brave Antilochus, a name 
 Not unrecorded in the rolls of fame: 
 
 With strength and ^peed superior form’d, in fight 
 To face the foe, or intercept his flight: 
 
 Too early snatch’d by fate, ere known to me! 
 
 I boast a witness of his worth in thee.” 280 
 
 “Young and mature!” the monarch thus rejoins, 
 
 “In thee renew’d the soul of Nestor shines: 
 
 Form’d by the care of that consummate sage. 
 
 In early bloom an oracle of age. 
 
 Whene’er his influence Jove vouchsafes to shower. 
 
 To bless the natal and the nuptial hour; 
 
 * Antilochia. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 t 
 
 From the great sire transmissive to the race, 
 
 The boon devolving gives distinguish’d grace. 
 
 Such, happy Nestor! was thy glorious doom; 
 
 Around thee, full of years, thy offspring bloom. 
 
 Expert of arms, and prudent in debate; 
 
 The gifts of Heaven to guard thy hoary state. 
 
 But now let each becalm his troubled breast. 
 
 Wash, and partake, serene, the friendly feast. 
 
 To move thy suit, Telemachus, delay. 
 
 Till Heaven’s revolving lamp restores the day.” 
 
 He said; Asphalion swift the laver brings; 
 
 Alternate all partake the grateful springs; 
 
 Then from the rites of purity repair. 
 
 And with keen gust the savoury viands share. 
 
 Meantime, with genial joy to warm the soul. 
 
 Bright Helen mix’d a mirth-inspiring bowl: 
 
 Temper’d with drugs of sovereign use, t’ assuage 
 The boiling bosom of tumultuous rage; 
 
 To clear the cloudy front of wrinkled Care, 
 
 And dry the tearful sluices of Despair: 
 
 Charm’d with that virtuous draught, th’ exalted mind 
 All sense of wo delivers to the wind. 
 
 Though on the blazing pile his parent lay. 
 
 Or a loved brother groan’d his life away, 310 
 
 Or darling son, oppress’d by ruffian force. 
 
 Fell breathless at his feet, a mangled corse; 
 
 From morn to eve, impassive and serene. 
 
 The man entranced would view the deathful scene. 
 
 These drugs, so friendly to the joys of life. 
 
 Bright Helen learn’d from Thone’s imperial wife; 
 
 Who sway’d the sceptre where prolific Nile 
 With various simples clothes the fatten’d soil. 
 
 With wholesome herbage mix’d, the direful bane 
 Of vegetable venom taints the plain; 320 
 
 From Pseon sprung, their patron-god imparts 
 To all the Pharian race his healing arts. 
 
 The beverage now prepared t’ inspire the feast. 
 
 The circle thus the beauteous queen address’d: 
 
 E 
 
 65 
 
 290 
 
 300 
 
66 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 “Throned in omnipotence, supremest Jove 
 Tempers the fates of human race above; 
 
 By the firm sanction of his sovereign will, 
 Alternate are decreed our good and ill. 
 
 To feastful mirth be this white hour assign’d, 
 And sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind. 
 
 Myself, assisting in the social joy, 
 
 Will tell Ulysses’ bold exploit in Troy: 
 
 Sole witness of the deed I now declare; 
 
 Speak you (who saw) his wonders in the war. 
 
 Seam’d o’er with wounds, which his own sabre gave, 
 In the vile habit of a village-slave. 
 
 The foe deceived, he pass’d the tented plain, 
 
 In Troy to mingle with the hostile train. 
 
 In this attire, secure from searching eyes, 
 
 Till haply piercing through the dark disguise 
 The chief I challenged; he, whose practised wit 
 Knew all the serpent mazes of deceit. 
 
 Eludes my search: but when his form I view’d 
 Fresh from the bath with fragrant oils renew’d. 
 
 His limbs in military purple dress’d. 
 
 Each brightening grace the genuine Greek confess d. 
 A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain d, 
 
 Till he the lines and Argive fleet regain’d. 
 
 To keep his stay conceal’d; the chief declared 
 The plans of war against the town prepared. 
 Exploring then the secrets of the state, 
 
 He learn’d what best might urge the Dardan fate: 
 And, safe returning to the Grecian host, 
 
 Sent many a shade to Pluto’s dreary coast. 
 
 Loud grief resounded through the towers of Troy, 
 But my pleased bosom glow’d with secret joy: 
 
 For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame, 
 
 I view’d th’ effects of that disastrous flame. 
 
 Which, kindled by th’ imperious queen of love. 
 Constrain’d me from my native realm to rove: 
 
 And oft, in bitterness of soul, deplored 
 My absent daughter, and my dearer lord; 
 
 340 
 
 350 
 
 360 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 67 
 
 Admired among the first of human race, 
 
 For every gift of mind and manly grace.” 
 
 “Right well,” replied the king, “your speech displays 
 The matchless merit of the chief you praise: 
 
 Heroes m various climes myself have found. 
 
 For martial deeds and depth of thought renowned; 
 
 But Ithacus, unrival’d in his claim'. 
 
 May boast a title to the loudest fame: 370 
 
 In battle calm, he guides the rapid storm, 
 
 Wise to resolve, and patient to perform. 
 
 What wondrous conduct in the chief appear’d, 
 
 When the vast fabric of the steed we rear’d! 
 
 Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom. 
 
 Urged you with great Deiphobus to come, 
 
 T’ explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile. 
 Slow-pacing thrice around th’ insidious pile; 
 
 Each noted leader’s name you thrice invoke. 
 
 Your accent varying as their spouses spoke: ■ 380 
 
 The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm’d. 
 
 But most Tydides’ and my heart alarm’d: 
 
 To quit the steed we both impatient press. 
 
 Threatening to answer from the dark recess. 
 
 Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain’d; 
 
 And the vain ardour of our love restrain’d: 
 
 But Anticlus, unable to control. 
 
 Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul: 
 
 Ulysses straight, with indignation fired, 
 
 (For so the common care of Greece required,) 390 
 
 Firm to his lips his forceful hand applied. 
 
 Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died. 
 
 Meantime, Minerva, from the fraudful horse. 
 
 Back to the court of Priam bent your course.” 
 
 “Inclement fate!” Telemachus replies; 
 
 “Frail is the boasted attribute of wise: 
 
 The leader, mingling with the vulgar host. 
 
 Is in the common mass of matter lost 1 
 But now let sleep the painful waste repair 
 I' Of sad reflection, and corroding care.” 
 
 400 
 
68 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 He ceased; the menial fair that round her wait, 
 
 At Helen’s beck prepare the room of state; 
 
 Beneath an ample portico, they spread 
 
 The downy fleece, to form the slumberous bed; 
 
 And o’er soft palls of purple grain, unfold 
 Rich tapestry, stiff with inwoven gold: 
 
 Then through th’ illumined dome, to balmy rest 
 Th’ obsequious herald guides each princely guest; 
 
 While to his regal bower the king ascends. 
 
 And beauteous Helen on her lord attends. 410 
 
 Soon as the morn, in orient purple dress’d, 
 
 CJnbarr’d the portal of the roseate east. 
 
 The monarch rose; magnificent to view, 
 
 Th’ imperial mantle o’er his vest he threw: 
 
 The glittering zone, athwart his shoulder cast, 
 
 A starry faulchion low-depending graced; 
 
 Clasp’d on his feet th’ embroider’d sandals shine; 
 
 And forth he moves, majestic and divine: 
 
 Instant to young Telemachus he press’d. 
 
 And thus benevolent his speech address’d: 420 
 
 “Say, royal youth, sincere of soul, report 
 What cause hath led you to the Spartan court? 
 
 Do public or domestic cares constrain 
 This toilsome voyage o’er the surgy main?” 
 
 “Oh, highly-favour’d delegate of Jove!” 
 
 Replied the prince, “inflamed with filial love. 
 
 And anxious hope, to hear my parent’s doom, 
 
 A suppliant to your royal court I come. 
 
 Our sovereign seat a lewd usurping race 
 
 With lawless riot and misrule disgrace; 430 
 
 To pamper’d insolence devoted fall 
 
 Prime of the flock, and choicest of the stall: 
 
 For wild ambition wings their bold desire. 
 
 And all to mount th’ imperial bed aspire. 
 
 But prostrate I implore, oh king I relate 
 The mournful series of my father’s fate: 
 
 Each known disaster of the man disclose. 
 
 Born by his mother to a world of woes 1 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 69 
 
 Recite them; nor in erring pity fear 
 
 To wound with storied grief the filial ear: 440 
 
 If e’er Ulysses, to reclaim your right, 
 
 Avow’d his zeal in council or in fight, 
 
 If Phrygian camps the friendly toils attest, 
 
 To the sire’s merit give the son’s request.” 
 
 Deep from his inmost soul Atrides sigh’d, 
 
 And thus indignant to the prince replied: 
 
 “Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train 
 An absent hero’s nuptial joys profane 1 
 So with her young, amid the woodland shades, 
 
 A timorous hind the lion’s court invades, 450 
 
 Leaves in that fatal lair the tender fawns. 
 
 Climbs the green cliff, or feeds the flowery lawns: 
 Meantime, return’d, with dire remorseless sway 
 The monarch-savage rends the trembling prey. 
 
 With equal fury, and with equal fame, • 
 
 Ulysses soon shall reassert his claim. 
 
 Oh, Jove supreme, whom gods and men revere! 
 
 And thou* to whom ’tis given to gild the sphere! 
 
 With power congenial join’d, propitious aid 
 
 The chief adopted by the martial maid I 4G0 
 
 Such to our wish the warrior soon restore. 
 
 As when contending on the Lesbian shore 
 His prowess Philomelides confess’d. 
 
 And loud-acclaiming Greeks the victor bless’d: 
 
 Then soon th’ invaders of his bed and throne 
 Their love presumptuous shall with life atone. 
 
 With patient ear, O royal youth, attend 
 The storied labours of thy father’s friend: 
 
 Fruitful of deeds, the copious tale is long. 
 
 But truth severe shall dictate to my tongue: 470 
 
 Learn what I heard the sea-born seer relate, 
 
 Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate: 
 
 I “Long on th’ Egyptian coast by calms confined, 
 
 ! Heaven to my fleet refused a prosperous wind: 
 
 I 
 
 ♦ Apollo. 
 
70 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 No vows had we preferr’d, nor victim slain! 
 
 For this the gods each favouring gale restrain: 
 Jealous, to see their high behests obey d; 
 
 Severe, if men th’ eternal rights evade. 
 
 High o’er a gulfy sea, the Pharian isle 
 Fronts the deep roar of disemboguing Nile: 
 
 Her distance from the shore, the course begun 
 At dawn, and ending with the setting sun, 
 
 A galley measures; when the stiffer gales 
 Rise on the poop, and fully stretch the sails. 
 
 There, anchor’d vessels safe in harbour lie. 
 
 While limpid springs the failing cask supply. 
 
 And now the twentieth sun, descending, laves 
 His glowing axle in the western wavps; 
 
 Still with expanded sails we court in vain 
 Propitious winds to waft us o’er the main: 
 
 And the pale mariner at once deplores 
 His drooping vigour and exhausted stores. 
 
 When, lo 1 a bright coerulean form appears. 
 
 The fair Eidothea! to dispel my fears; 
 
 Proteus her sire divine. With pity press d, 
 
 Me sole the daughter of the deep address’d; 
 
 What time, with hunger pined, my absent mates 
 Roam the wild isle in search of rural cates. 
 
 Bait the barb’d steel, and from the fishy flood 
 Appease th’ afflictive, fierce desire of food. 
 
 “‘Whoe’er thou art,’ the azure goddess cries 
 ‘Thy conduct ill deserves the praise of wise; 
 
 Is death thy choice, or misery thy boast, 
 
 That here inglorious on a baren coast 
 Thy brave associates droop, a meagre train, 
 
 With famine pale, and ask thy care in vain?’ 
 
 “Struck with the kind reproach, I straight reply: 
 ‘Whate’er thy title in thy native sky, 
 
 A goddess sure 1 for more than mortal grace 
 Speaks the descendant of ethereal race: 
 
 Deem not, that here of choice my fleet remains; 
 Some heavenly power averse my stay constrains: 
 
 480 
 
 490 
 
 500 
 
 510 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 7i 
 
 Oh, piteous of my fate, vouchsafe to show 
 (For what’s sequester’d from celestial view?) 
 
 What power becalms th’ innavigable seas? 
 
 What guilt provokes him, and what vows appease?’ 
 
 “I ceased; when affable the goddess cried: 
 
 ‘Observe, and in the truths I speak confide: 
 
 Th’ oraculous seer frequents the Pharian coast, 
 
 From whose high bed my birth divine I boast; 520 
 
 Proteus, a name tremendous o’er the main. 
 
 The delegate of Neptune’s watery reign. 
 
 Watch with insidious care his known abode; 
 
 There fast in chains constrain the various god; 
 
 Who bound, obedient to superior force. 
 
 Unerring will prescribe your destined course. 
 
 If, studious of your realms, you then demand 
 Their state, since last you left your natal land; 
 
 Instant the god obsequious will disclose 
 Bright tracks of glory, or a cloud of woes.’ 530 
 
 “She ceased; and suppliant thus I made reply: 
 
 ‘Oh, goddess! on thy aid my hopes rely; 
 
 Dictate propitious to my duteous ear. 
 
 What arts can captivate the changeful seer; 
 
 For perilous the assay, unheard the toil, 
 
 T’ elude the prescience of a god by guile.’ 
 
 “Thus to the goddess mild my suit I end. 
 
 Then she: ‘Obedient to my rule, attend: 
 
 When fhrough the zone of heaven the mounted sun 
 Hath journey’d half, and half remains to run; 540 
 
 The seer, while zephyrs curl the swelling deep. 
 
 Basks on the breezy shore, in grateful sleep. 
 
 His oozy limbs. Emerging from the wave, 
 
 The Phocse swift surround his rocky cave. 
 
 Frequent and full; the consecrated train 
 Of her* whose azure trident awes the main: 
 
 There wallowing warm, th’ enormous herd exhales 
 An oily steam, and taints the noon-tide gales. 
 
 * Amphitrite. 
 
72 the odyssey, book IV. 
 
 To that recess, commodious for surprise, 
 
 When purple light shall next suffuse the skies, 
 
 With me repair; and from thy warrior-band 
 Three chosen chiefs of dauntless soul command: 
 Let their auxiliar force befriend the toil; 
 
 For strong the god, and perfected in guile. 
 
 Stretch’d on the shelly shore, he first surveys 
 The flouncing herd ascending from the seas; 
 
 Their number summ’d, reposed in sleep profound, 
 The scaly charge their guardian god surround: 
 
 So with his battening flocks the careful swain 
 Abides, pavilion’d on the grassy plain. 
 
 With powers united, obstinately bold 
 Invade him, couch’d amid the scaly fold: 
 
 Instant he wears, elusive of the rape, 
 
 The mimic force of every savage shape; 
 
 Or glides with liquid lapse a murmuring stream, 
 
 Or, wrapt in flame, he glows at every limb. 
 
 Yet still retentive, with redoubled might, 
 
 Through each vain passive form constrain his flight. 
 But when, his native shape resumed, he stands 
 Patient of conquest, and your cause demands. 
 
 The cause that urged the bold attempt declare. 
 
 And soothe the vanquish’d with a victor’s prayer. 
 The bands relax’d, implore the seer to say 
 What godhead interdicts the watery way? 
 
 Who, straight propitious, in prophetic strain * 
 Will teach you to repass th’ unmeasured main.’ 
 
 She ceased; and, bounding from the shelfy shore. 
 Round the descending nymph the waves redounding 
 “High wrapt in wonder of the future deed, 
 
 With joy impetuous, to the port I speed: . 
 
 The wants of nature with repast suffice. 
 
 Till night with grateful shade involved the skies, 
 
 And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep, 
 
 Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep, 
 
 Our cares were lost. When o’er the eastern lawn, 
 In saffron robes, the daughter of the dawn 
 
 550 
 
 560 
 
 570 
 
 roar. 
 
 580 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 73 
 
 Advanced her rosy steps; before the bay, 
 
 Due ritual honours to the gods I pay; 
 
 Then seek the place the sea-born nymph assign’d, 
 With three associates of undaunted mind. 
 Arrived, to form along th’ appointed strand 
 For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand; 
 
 Then, from her azure car the finny spoils 
 Of four vast Phocse takes to veil her wiles; 
 Beneath the finny spoils, extended prone. 
 
 Hard toil! the prophet’s piercing eye to shun; 
 New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse 
 Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze; 
 
 But the bright sea-maid’s gentle power implored. 
 With nectar’d drops the sickening sense restored. 
 
 “Thus till the sun had travel’d half the skies, 
 Ambush’d we lie, and wait the bold emprise; 
 When, thronging quick to bask in open air. 
 
 The ffocks of Ocean to the strand repair: 
 
 Couch’d on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep: 
 Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep. 
 Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit: 
 
 (In order told, we make' the sum complete:) 
 Pleased with the false review, secure he lies. 
 
 And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes. 
 Rushing impetuous forth, we straight prepare 
 A furious onset with the sound of war. 
 
 And shouting seize the god: our force t’ evade, 
 His various arts he soon resumes in aid: 
 
 A lion now, he curls a surgy mane; 
 
 Sudden, our bands a spotted pard restrain; 
 
 Then, arm’d with tusks, and lightning in his eyes, 
 A boar’s obscener shape the god belies: 
 
 On spiry volumes, there, a dragon rides: 
 
 Here, from our strict embrace a stream he glides; 
 And last, sublime his stately growth he rears, 
 
 A tree, and well-dissembfed foliage wears. 
 
 Vain efforts! with superior power compress’d. 
 
 Me with reluctance thus the seer address’d: 
 
 4 
 
 590 
 
 fiOO 
 
 010 
 
 620 
 
74 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 *Say, son of Atreus, say what god inspired 
 This daring fraud, and what the boon desired?’ 
 
 “I thus: ‘O thou, whose certain eye forsees 
 The fix’d event of Fate’s remote decrees; 
 
 After long woes, and various toils endured, 
 
 Still on this desert isle my fleet is moor’d; 
 Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing! say. 
 
 What godhead interdicts the watery way? 
 
 What vows repentant will the power appease. 
 
 To speed a prosperous voyage o’er the seas?’ 
 
 “‘To Jove,’ (with stern regard the god replies,) 
 ‘And all th’ offended synod of the skies, 
 
 Just hecatombs, with due devotion slain. 
 
 Thy guilt absolved, a prosperous voyage gain. 
 
 - To the firm sanction of thy fate attend! 
 
 An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend. 
 
 Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome. 
 
 Shall yet enjoy, but still art doom’d to roam. 
 
 Once more the Nile, who from the secret source 
 Of Jove’s high seat descends with sweepy force. 
 Must view his billows white beneath thy oar. 
 
 And altars blaze along his sanguine shore. 
 
 Then will the gods, with holy pomp adored. 
 
 To thy long vows a safe return accord.’ 
 
 “He ceased; heart-wounded with afflictive pain, 
 (Doom’d to repeat the perils of the main, 
 
 A shelfy tract and long!) ‘ Oh, seer!’ I cry, 
 
 ‘To the stern sanction of th’ offended sky 
 My prompt obedience bows. But deign to say, 
 What fate propitious, or what dire dismay. 
 
 Sustain those peers, the relics of our host. 
 
 Whom I with Nestor on the Phrygian coast 
 Embracing left? Must I the warriors weep, 
 
 ^ Whelm’d in the bottom of the monstrous deep ? 
 
 Or did the kind domestic friend deplore 
 The breathless heroes on their native shore ?’ 
 
 “‘Press not too far,’ replied the god: ‘but cease 
 To know, what known will violate thy peace: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 75 
 
 Too curious of their doom! with friendly wo 
 Thy breast will heave, and tears eternal flow. 
 
 Part live; the rest, a lamentable train. 
 
 Range the dark bounds of Pluto’s dreary reign. 
 
 Two, foremost in the roll of Mars renown’d. 
 
 Whose arms with conquest in thy cause were crown’d. 
 Fell by disastrous fate; by tempest toss’d, 
 
 A third lives wretched on a distant coast.— 670 
 
 By Neptune, rescued from Minerva’s hate. 
 
 On Gyree, safe Oi'lean Ajax sate, 
 
 His ship o’erwhelm’d: but, frowning on the floods. 
 Impious he roars defiance to the gods; 
 
 To his own prowess all the glory gave. 
 
 The power defrauding who vouchsafed to save. 
 
 This heard the raging ruler of the main; • 
 
 His spear, indignant for such high disdain. 
 
 He launch’d: dividing with his forky mace 
 
 Th’ aerial summit from the marble base: 680 
 
 The rock rush’d seaward with impetuous roar. 
 
 Ingulf’d, and to th’ abyss the boaster bore.— 
 
 By Juno’s guardian aid, the watery vast, 
 
 Secure of storms, your royal brother pass’d; 
 
 Till coasting nigh the cape, where Malaea shrouds 
 Her spiry cliffs amid surrounding clouds; 
 
 A whirling gust tumultuous from the shore 
 Across the deep his labouring vessel bore. 
 
 In an ill-fated hour the coast*he gain’d. 
 
 Where late in regal pomp Thyestes reign’d: 600 
 
 But, when his hoary honours bow’d to fate, 
 iEgysthus govern’d in paternal state. 
 
 The surges now subside, the tempest ends; 
 
 From his tall ship the king of men descends; 
 
 There fondly thinks the gods conclude his toil I 
 Far from his own domain salutes the soil: 
 
 With rapture oft the verge of Greece reviews, 
 
 And the dear turf with tears of joy bedews. 
 
 Him thus exulting on the distant strand, 
 
 A spy distinguish’d from his airy stand; 
 
 700 
 
76 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 To bribe whose vigilance, iEgysthus told 
 A mighty sum of ill-persuading gold: 
 
 There watch’d this guardian of his guilty fear, 
 
 Till the twelfth moon had wheel’d her pale career. 
 
 And now, admonish’d by his eye, to court 
 With terror wing’d conveys the dread report. 
 
 Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs 
 The ministers of blood in dark surprise; 
 
 And twenty youths in radiant mail incased. 
 
 Close ambush’d, nigh the spacious hall he placed. 710 
 Then bids prepare the hospitable treat: 
 
 Vain shows of love to veil his felon-hate! 
 
 To sfrace the victor’s welcome from the wars 
 A train of coursers and triumphal cars 
 Magnificent he leads: the royal guest, 
 
 Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast. 
 
 The troop, forth issuing from the dark recess. 
 
 With homicidal rage the king oppress. 
 
 So, while he feeds luxurious in the stall. 
 
 The sovereign of the herd is doom’d to fall. 720 
 
 The partners of his fame anddoils at Troy, 
 
 Around their lord, a mighty ruin I lie: 
 
 Mix’d with the brave, the base invaders bleed; 
 iEgysthus sole survives to boast the deed.’ 
 
 “He said; chill horrors shook my shivering soul; 
 Rack’d with convulsive pangs, in dust I roll; 
 
 And hate, in madness of extreme despair. 
 
 To view the sun, or breathe the vital air. 
 
 But when, superior to the rage of wo, 
 
 I stood restored, and tears had ceased to flow, 730 
 
 Lenient of grief, the pitying god began: 
 
 ‘Forget the brother, and resume the man: 
 
 To Fate’s supreme dispose the dead resign. 
 
 That care be Fate’s, a speedy passage thine. 
 
 Still lives the wretch who wrought the death deplored. 
 But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword; 
 
 Unless with filial rage Orestes glow. 
 
 And swift prevent the meditated blow; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 77 
 
 You timely will return a welcome guest, 
 
 With him to share the sad funereal feast.’ 740 
 
 “He said: new thoughts my beating heart employ, 
 
 My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy. 
 
 Fair hope revives; and eager I address’d 
 The prescient godhead to reveal the rest: 
 
 ‘The doom decreed of those disastrous two 
 I’ve heard with pain, but, oh! the tale pursue; 
 
 What third brave son of Mars the Fates constrain 
 To roam the howling desert of the main; 
 
 Or, in eternal shade if cold he lies, 
 
 Provoke new sorrow from these grateful eyes.’ 750 
 
 “‘That chief,’ rejoin’d the god, ‘his race derives 
 From Ithaca, and wondrous woes survives; 
 
 Laertes son: girt with circumfluous tides. 
 
 He still calamitous constraint abides. 
 
 Him in Calypso’s cave of late I view’d, 
 
 When streaming grief his faded cheek bedew’d. 
 
 But yain his prayer, his arts are vain, to move 
 Th’ enamour’d goddess, or elude her love: 
 
 His vessel sunk, and dear companions lost, 
 
 He lives reluctant on a foreign coast. 7G0 
 
 But, oh, beloved by Heaven! reserved to thee 
 A happier lot the smiling fates decree: 
 
 Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway 
 Matter is changed, and varying forms decay, 
 
 Elysium shall be thine; the blissful plains 
 Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns. 
 
 Joys ever young, unmix’d with pain or fear, 
 
 Fill the wide circle of th’ eternal year: 
 
 Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime; 
 
 The fields are florid with unfading prime; 770 
 
 From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, 
 
 Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow; 
 
 But from the breezy deep the bless’d inhale 
 The fragrant murmurs of the western gale. 
 
 This grace peculiar will the gods afford 
 
 To thee, the son of Jove, and beauteous Helen’s lord.’ 
 
78 
 
 the odyssey, book IV. 
 
 “He ceased; and, plunging in the vast profound, 
 Beneath the god the whirling billows bound. 
 
 Then speeding back, involved in various thought, 
 My friends attending at the shore I sought. 
 
 Arrived, the rage of hunger we control, 
 
 Till night with silent shade invests the pole; 
 
 Then lose the care of life in pleasing rest. 
 
 Soon as the morn reveals the roseate east, 
 
 With sails we wing the masts, our anchors weigh. 
 Unmoor the fleet, and rush into the sea. 
 
 Ranged on the banks, beneath our equal oars 
 White curl the waves, and the vex’d ocean roars. 
 Then, steering backward from the Pharian isle, 
 gain the strea.m of Jove-descended Nile; 
 
 There quit the ships, and on the destined shore 
 With ritual hecatombs the gods adore: 
 
 Their wrath atoned, to Agamemnon’s name 
 A cenotaph I raise of deathless fame. 
 
 These rites to piety and grief discharged. 
 
 The friendly gods a springing gale enlarged: 
 
 The fleet swift tilting o’er the surges flew. 
 
 Till Grecian cliffs appear’d, a blissful view! 
 
 “ Thy patient ear hath heard me long relate 
 A story, fruitful of disastrous fate; 
 
 And now, young prince, indulge my fond request; 
 Be Sparta honour’d with his royal guest. 
 
 Till, from his eastern goal, the joyous sun 
 His twelfth diurnal race begins to run. 
 
 Meantime, my train the friendly gifts prepare. 
 Three sprightly coursers, and a polish’d car: 
 
 With these a goblet of capacious mould. 
 
 Figured with art to dignify the gold, 
 
 (Form’d for libation to the gods,) shall prove 
 A pledge and monument of sacred love.” 
 
 “My quick return,” young Ithacus rejoin’d, 
 “Damps the warm wishes of my raptured mind: 
 Did not my fate my needful haste constrain. 
 Charmed by your speech, so graceful and humane. 
 
 780 
 
 790 
 
 800 
 
 810 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 Lost in delight the circling year would roll, 
 While deep attention fix’d my listening soul. 
 
 But now to Pyle permit my destined way; 
 
 My loved associates chide my long delay: 
 
 In dear remembrance of your royal grace, 
 
 I take the present of the promised vase; 
 
 The coursers, for the champaign sports retain: 
 That gift our barren rocks will render vain: 
 Horrid with cliffs, our meagre land allows 
 Thin herbage for the mountain-goat to browse. 
 But neither mead nor plain supplies, to feed 
 The sprightly courser, or indulge his speed: 
 
 To sea-surrounded realms the gods assign 
 Small tract of fertile lawn, the least to mine.” 
 
 His hand the king with tender passion press’d. 
 And, smiling, thus the royal youth address’d: 
 
 “Oh, early worth! a soul so wise, and young. 
 Proclaims you from the sage Ulysses sprung. 
 Selected from my stores, of matchless price. 
 
 An urn shall recompense your prudent choice: 
 Not mean the massy mould of silver, graced 
 By Vulcan’s art, the verge with gold enchased; 
 A pledge the sceptred power of Sidon gave. 
 When to his realm I plough’d the orient wave.” 
 
 Thus they alternate; while with artful care 
 The menial train the regal feast prepare: 
 
 The firstlings of the ffock are doom’d to die; 
 Rich fragrant wines the cheering bowl supply; 
 A female band the gifts of Ceres bring; 
 
 And the gilt roofs with genial triumph ring. 
 
 Meanwhile, in Ithaca, the suitor-powers 
 In active games divide the jovial hours: 
 
 In areas varied with mosaic art. 
 
 Some whirl the disk, and some the javelin dart. 
 Aside, sequester’d from the vast resort, 
 
 Antinoiis sate, spectator of the sport; 
 
 With great Eurymachus, of worth confess d. 
 And high descent, superior to the rest; 
 
 Whom young Noemon lowly thus address’d: 
 
 79 
 
 820 
 
 830 
 
 840 
 
 850 
 
80 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 “My ship, equipp’d within the neighbouring port, 
 
 The prince, departing for the Pylian court. 
 
 Requested for his speed; but, courteous, say 
 When steers he home, or why this long delay? 
 
 For Elis I should sail with utmost speed, 
 
 T’ import twelve mares which there luxurious feed, 
 
 And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race, 860 
 New to the plough, unpractised in the trace.” 
 
 Unknowing of the course to Pyle design’d, 
 
 A sudden horror seized on either mind; 
 
 The prince in rural bower they fondly thought. 
 Numbering his flocks and herds, not far remote. 
 
 “Relate,” Antinoiis cries, “devoid of guile, 
 
 When spread the prince his sail for distant Pyle? 
 
 Did chosen chiefs across the gulfy main 
 Attend his voyage, or domestic train? 
 
 Spontaneous did you speed his secret course, 870 
 
 Or was the vessel seized by fraud or force?” 
 
 “With willing duty, not reluctant mind,” 
 
 Noemon cried, “the vessel was resign’d. 
 
 Who, in the balance, with the great affairs 
 Of courts, presume to weigh their private cares? 
 
 With him, the peerage next in power to you; 
 
 And Mentor, captain of the lordly crew. 
 
 Or some celestial in his reverend form. 
 
 Safe from the secret rock and adverse storm, 
 
 Pilots the course: for when the glimmering ray 880 
 Of yester dawn disclosed the tender day. 
 
 Mentor himself I saw, and much admired.” 
 
 Then ceased the youth, and from the court retired. 
 Confounded and appall’d, th’ unfinish’d game 
 The suitors quit, and all to council came. 
 
 Antinoiis first th’ assembled peers address’d. 
 
 Rage sparkling in his eyes, and burning in his breast: 
 
 “Oh, shame to manhood! shall one daring boy 
 The scheme of all our happiness destroy? 
 
 Fly unperceived, seducing half the flower 890 
 
 Of nobles, and invite a foreign power? 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 81 
 
 The ponderous engine raised to crush us all, 
 
 Recoiling, on his head is sure to fall. 
 
 Instant prepare me, on the neighbouring strand. 
 
 With twenty chosen mates, a vessel mann’d; 
 
 For, ambush’d close beneath the Samian shore. 
 
 His ship returning shall my spies explore: 
 
 He soon his rashness shall with life atone. 
 
 Seek for his father’s fate, but find his own.” 
 
 With vast applause the sentence all approve; 900 
 
 Then rise, and to the feastful hall remove: 
 
 Swift to the queen the herald Medon ran. 
 
 Who heard the consult of the dire divan: 
 
 Before her dome the royal matron stands. 
 
 And thus the message of his haste demands: 
 
 “What will the suitors? Must my servant-train 
 Th’ alotted labours of the day refrain. 
 
 For them to form some exquisite repast? 
 
 Heaven grant this festival may prove their last! 
 
 Or, if they still must live, from me remove 910 
 
 The double plague of luxury and love! 
 
 Forbear, ye sons of insolence 1 forbear. 
 
 In riot to consume a wretched heir. 
 
 In the young soul illustrious thoughts to raise. 
 
 Were ye not tutor’d with Ulysses’ praise? 
 
 Have not your fathers oft my lord defined, 
 
 Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind? 
 
 Some kings with arbitrary rage devour. 
 
 Or in their tyrant-minions vest the power; 
 
 Ulysses let no partial favours fall; 920 
 
 The people’s parent, he protected all: 
 
 But absent now, perfidious and ingrate! 
 
 His stores ye ravage, and usurp his state.” 
 
 He thus: “Oh, were the words you speak the worst! 
 They form a deed more odious and accurs d; 
 
 More dreadful than your boding soul divines: 
 
 But pitying Jove avert the dire designs! 
 
 The darling object of your royal care 
 Is mark’d to perish in a deathful snare; 
 
 4* F 
 
82 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 Before he anchors in his native port, 
 
 From Pyle resailing and the Spartan court; 
 Horrid to speak! in ambush is decreed 
 The hope and heir of Ithaca to bleed!” 
 
 Sudden she sunk beneath the weighty woes, 
 The vital streams a chilling horror froze; 
 
 The big round tear stands trembling in her eye. 
 And on her tongue imperfect accents die. 
 
 At length, in tender language, interwove 
 With sighs, she thus express’d her anxious love: 
 
 “Why rashly would my son his fate explore. 
 Ride the wild waves, and quit the safer shore? 
 Did he, with all the greatly wretched, crave 
 A blank oblivion and untimely grave?” 
 
 “’Tis not,” replied the sage, “to Medon given 
 To know, if some inhabitant of heaven 
 In his young breast the daring thought inspired! 
 Or if, alone with filial duty fired. 
 
 The winds and waves he tempts in early bloom, 
 Studious to learn his absent father’s doom.” 
 
 The sage retired.—Unable to control 
 The mighty griefs that swell her labouring soul. 
 Rolling convulsive on the floor, is seen 
 The piteous object of a prostrate queen. 
 
 Words to her dumb complaint a pause supplies. 
 And breath to waste in unavailing cries. 
 
 Around their sovereign wept the menial fair. 
 
 To whom she thus address’d her deep despair: 
 
 “ Behold a wretch whom all the gods consign 
 To wo! Did ever sorrows equal mine? 
 
 Long to my joys my dearest lord is lost. 
 
 His country’s buckler, and the Grecian boast: 
 Now from my fond embrace, by tempests torn. 
 Our other column of the state is borne: 
 
 Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent!— 
 Unkind confederates in his diro intent! 
 
 Ill suits it with your shows of duteous zeal. 
 From me the purposed voyage to conceal: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 83 
 
 Though at the solemn midnight hour he rose, 
 
 Why did you fear to trouble my repose? 
 
 He either had obey’d my fond desire, 
 
 Or seen his mother, pierced with grief, expire. 
 
 Bid Dolius quick attend, the faithful slave 
 Whom to my nuptial-train Icarius gave. 
 
 To tend the fruit-groves; with incessant speed 
 He shall this violence of death decreed 
 To good Laertes tell. Experienced age 
 'May timely intercept the ruffian rage. 
 
 Convene the tribes, the murderous plot reveal, 
 
 And to their power to save his race appeal.” 
 
 Then Euryclea thus: “My dearest dread! 
 Though to the sword I bow this hoary head. 
 
 Or if a dungeon be the pain decreed, 
 
 I own me conscious of th’ unpleasing deed: 
 
 Auxiliar to his flight, my aid implored. 
 
 With wine and viands I the vessel stored: 
 
 A solemn oath, imposed, the secret seal’d. 
 
 Till the twelfth dawn the light of heaven reveal’d. 
 Dreading th’ effect of a fond mother’s fear. 
 
 He dared not violate your royal ear. 
 
 But bathe, and, in imperial robes array’d. 
 
 Pay due devotions to the martial maid,* 
 
 And rest affianced in her guardian aid. 
 
 Send not to good Laertes, nor engage 
 In toils of state the miseries of age: 
 
 ’Tis impious to surmise the powers divine 
 To ruin doom the Jove-descended line: 
 
 Long shall the race of just Arcesius reign, 
 
 And isles remote enlarge his old domain.” 
 
 The queen her speech with calm attention hears, 
 Her eyes restrain the silver-streaming tears: 
 
 She bathes, and, robed, the sacred dome ascends; 
 Her pious speed a female train attends: 
 
 970 
 
 980 
 
 990 
 
 1000 
 
 * Minerva. 
 
84 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 The salted cakes in canisters are laid, 
 
 And thus the queen invokes Minerva’s aid:^ 
 
 “Daughter divine of Jove, whose arm can wield 
 Th’ avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield! 
 
 If e’er Ulysses to thy fane preferr’d 
 
 The best and choicest of his flock and herd,. 
 
 Hear, goddess, hear, by those oblations won; 
 
 And for the pious sire preserve the son! 
 
 His wish’d return with happy power befriend, 
 
 And on the suitors let thy wrath descend.” 
 
 She ceased; shrill ecstacies of joy declare 
 The favouring goddess present to the prayer: 
 
 The suitors heard, and deem’d the mirthful voice 
 A signal of her hymeneal choice; 
 
 While one most jovial thus accosts the board: 
 
 “Too late the queen selects a second lord; 
 
 In evil hour the nuptial rite intends. 
 
 When o’er her son disastrous death impends.” 
 
 Thus he, unskill’d of what the fates provide! 
 
 But with severe rebuke Antinoiis cried: 
 
 “These empty vaunts will make the voyage vain; 
 Alarm not with discourse the menial train: 
 
 The great event with silent hope attend; 
 
 Our deeds alone our counsel must commend.” 
 
 His speech thus ended short, he frowning rose. 
 And twenty chiefs renown’d for valour chose: 
 
 Down to the strand he speeds with haughty strides. 
 Where anchor’d in the bay the vessel rides. 
 
 Replete with mail and military store. 
 
 In all her tackle trim to quit the shore. 
 
 The desperate crew ascend, unfurl the sails 
 (The seaward prow invites the tardy gales): * 
 
 Then take repast, till Hesperus display’d 
 His golden circlet in the 'western shade. 
 
 Meantime, the queen, without reflection due, 
 Heart-wounded, to the bed of state withdrew: 
 
 In her sad breast the prince’s fortunes roll. 
 
 And hope and doubt alternate seize her soul. 
 
 1010 
 
 1020 
 
 1030 
 
 1040 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 85 
 
 So when the woodman’s toil her cave surrounds, 
 
 And with the hunter’s cry the grove resounds, 
 
 With grief and rage the mother-lion stung. 
 
 Fearless herself, yet trembles for her young. 
 
 While pensive in the silent slumberous shade. 
 
 Sleep’s gentle powers her drooping eyes invade; 
 Minerva, life-like, on embodied air 
 Impress’d the form of Iphthim^ the fair; 
 
 (Icarius’ daughter she, whose blooming charms 
 Allured Eumelus to her virgin arms; 1050 
 
 A sceptred lord, who, o’er the fruitful plain 
 Of Thessaly, wide stretch’d his ample reign:) 
 
 As Pallas will’d, along the sable skies. 
 
 To calm the queen, the phantom sister flies. 
 
 Swift on the regal dome descending right. 
 
 The bolted valves are pervious to her flight. 
 
 Close to her head the pleasing vision stands. 
 
 And thus performs Minerva’s high commands; 
 
 “Oh why, Penelop6, this causeless fear. 
 
 To render sleep’s soft blessing insincere? 1060 
 
 Alike devote to sorrow’s dire extreme 
 
 The day-reflection, and the midnight dream! 
 
 Thy son the gods propitious will restore. 
 
 And bid thee cease his absence to deplore.” 
 
 To whom the queen (while yet her pensive mind 
 Was in the silent gates of sleep confined): 
 
 “Oh, sister! to my soul for ever dear. 
 
 Why this first visit to reprove my fear? 
 
 How in a realm so distant should you know 
 
 From what deep source my deathless sorrows flow! 1070 
 
 To all my hope my royal lord is lost. 
 
 His country’s buckler, and the Grecian boast: 
 
 And, with consummate wo to weigh me down. 
 
 The heir of all his honours and his crown. 
 
 My darling son is fled! an easy prey 
 
 To the fierce storms, or men more fierce than they: 
 
 Who, in a league of blood associates sworn. 
 
 Will intercept th’ unwary youth’s return.” 
 
86 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IV. 
 
 “Courage resume,” the shadowy form replied; 
 “In the protecting care of Heaven confide: 
 
 On him attends the blue-eyed martial maid. 
 
 What earthly can implore a surer aid? 
 
 Me now the guardian goddess deigns to send, 
 
 To bid thee patient his return attend.” 
 
 The queen replies: “If, in the bless'd abodes 
 A goddess, thou hast commerce with the gods; 
 Say, breathes my lord the blissful realm of light. 
 Or lies he wrapp’d in ever-during night?” 
 
 “Inquire not of his doom,” the phantom cries; 
 “I speak not all the counsel of the skies: 
 
 Nor must indulge with vain discourse, or long. 
 The windy satisfaction of the tongue.” 
 
 Swift through the valves the visionary fair 
 Repass’d, and viewless mix’d with common air. 
 The queen awakes, deliver’d of her woes; 
 
 With florid joy her heart dilating glows: 
 
 The vision, manifest of future fate. 
 
 Makes her with hope her son’s arrival wait. 
 
 Meantime, the suitors plough the watery plain; 
 Telemachus, in thought, already slain! 
 
 When sight of lessening Ithaca was lost, 
 
 Their sail directed for the Samian coast, 
 
 A small but verdant isle appeared in view. 
 
 And Asteris th’ advancing pilot knew: 
 
 An ample port the rocks projected form. 
 
 To break the rolling waves and ruffling storm: 
 That safe recess they gain with happy speed. 
 And in close ambush wait the murderous deed. 
 
 1080 
 
 1000 
 
 1100 
 
BOOK V. 
 
 The Departure of Ulysses from Calypso. 
 
 Asgument. —Pallas in a council of the gods complains of the detention of 
 Ulysses in the island of Calypso ; whereupon Mercury is sent to command 
 his removal. The seat of Calypso described. She consents with much 
 difficulty; and Ulysses builds a vessel with his own hands, on which he 
 embarks. Neptune overtakes him with a terrible tempest, in which he is 
 shipwrecked, and in the last danger of death : till Leucothea, a sea-goddess, 
 assists him, and, after innumerable perils, he gets ashore on Phseacia, 
 
 The saffron morn, with early blushes spread, 
 
 Now rose refulgent from Tithonus’ bed; 
 
 With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, 
 
 And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light. 
 
 Then met th’ eternal synod of the sky. 
 
 Before the god who thunders from on high. 
 
 Supreme in might, sublime in majesty. 
 
 Pallas to these deplores th’ unequal fates 
 Of wise Ulysses, and his toils relates: 
 
 Her hero’s danger touch’d the pitying power, 10 
 
 The nymph’s seducements, and the magic bower.' 
 
 Thus she began her plaint: “Immortal Jove! 
 
 And you who fill the blissful seats above I 
 Let kings no more with gentle mercy sway, 
 
 Or bless a people willing to obey. 
 
 But crush the nations with an iron rod. 
 
 And every monarch be the scourge of God 1 
 If from your thoughts Ulysses you remove. 
 
 Who ruled his subjects with a father’s love. 
 
 Sole in an isle, encircled by the main, 20 
 
 Abandon’d, banish’d from his native reign, 
 
 Unbless’d he sighs; detain’d by lawless charms. 
 
 And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms. 
 
88 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Nor friends are there, nor vessels to convey, 
 
 Nor oars to cut th’ immeasurable way. 
 
 And now fierce traitors, studious to destroy 
 His only son, their ambush’d fraud employ; 
 
 Who, pious, following his great father’s fame, 
 
 To sacred Pylos and to Sparta came.” 
 
 “What words are these?” (replied the power who forms 
 The clouds of night, and darkens heaven with storms;) 31 
 “Is not already in thy soul decreed, 
 
 The chief’s return shall make the guilty bleed? 
 
 What cannot Wisdom do? Thou may’st restore 
 The son in safety to his native shore: 
 
 While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay. 
 
 With fraud defeated, measure back their way.” 
 
 Then thus to Hermes the command was given: 
 “Hermes, thou chosen messenger of heaven! 
 
 Go; to the nymph be these our orders borne: 40 
 
 ’Tis Jove’s decree, Ulysses shall return. 
 
 The patient man shall view his old abodes. 
 
 Nor help’d by mortal hand, nor guiding gods; 
 
 In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find. 
 
 Alone, and floating to the wave and wind. 
 
 The bold Phmacians there, whose haughty line 
 Is mix’d with gods, half human, half divine. 
 
 The chief shall honour as some heavenly guest 
 And swift transport him to his place of rest. 
 
 His vessels loaded with a plenteous store 50 
 
 Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore, 
 
 (A richer prize than if his joyful isle 
 Received him charged with Ilion’s noble spoil,) 
 
 His friends, his country, he shall see, though late; 
 
 Such is our sovereign will, and such is fate.” 
 
 He spoke. 'The god who mounts the winged winds 
 Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds. 
 
 That high through fields of air his flight sustain 
 O’er the wide earth, and o’er the boundless main. 
 
 He graspsHhe wand that causes sleep to fly. 
 
 Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye: 
 
 60 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 8D 
 
 Then shoots from heaven to high Pieria’s steep, 
 
 And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep. 
 
 So watery fowl, that seek their fishy food. 
 
 With wings expanded, o’er the foaming flood. 
 
 Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep. 
 
 Now dip their pinions in the briny deep: 
 
 Thus o’er the world of waters Hermes flew. 
 
 Till now the distant island rose in view; 
 
 Then swift ascending from the azure wave, 70 
 
 He took the path that winded to the cave. 
 
 Large was the grot, in which the nymph he found; 
 
 (The fair-hair’d nymph, with every beauty crown’d.) 
 
 She sate, and sung; the rocks resound her lays; 
 
 The cave was brighten’d with a rising blaze; 
 
 Gedar and frankincense, an odorous pile. 
 
 Flamed on the hearth, and wide perfumed the isle; 
 
 While she with work and song the time divides. 
 
 And through the loom the golden shuttle guides. 
 
 Without the grot, a various sylvan scene 80 
 
 Appear’d around, and groves of living green; 
 
 Poplars and alders ever quivering play’d. 
 
 And nodding cypress form’d a fragrant shade; 
 
 On whose high branches, waving with the storm. 
 
 The birds of broadest wing their mansion form— 
 
 The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow— 
 
 And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below. 
 
 Depending vines the shelving cavern screen, 
 
 With purple clusters blushing through the green. 
 
 Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil, ' 00 
 
 And every fountain pours a several rill. 
 
 In mazy windings wandering down the hill; 
 
 Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown’d. 
 And glowing violets threw odours round. 
 
 A scene where, if a god should cast his sight, 
 
 A god might gaze, and wander with delight! 
 
 Joy touch’d the messenger of heaven: he stay’d 
 1 Entranced, and all the blissful haunt survey’d. 
 
 Him, entering in the cave, Calypso knew; 
 
 |! For powers celestial to each other’s view ’ 100 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
90 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Stand still confess’d, though distant far they lie 
 To habitants of earth, or sea, or sky. 
 
 But sad Ulysses, by himself apart, 
 
 Pour’d the big sorrows of his swelling heart. 
 
 All on the lonely shore he sate to weep, 
 
 And roll’d his eyes around the restless deep; 
 
 Tow’rd his loved coast he roll’d his eyes in vain. 
 
 Till, dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again. 
 
 Now graceful seated on her shining throne. 
 
 To Hermes thus the nymph divine begun: IB) 
 
 “God of the golden wand! on what behest 
 Arriv’st thou here, an unexpected guest? 
 
 Loved as thou art, thy free injunctions lay; 
 
 ’Tis mine, with joy and duty to obey. 
 
 Till now a stranger, in a happy hour 
 Approach, and taste the dainties of my bower.” 
 
 Thus having spoke, the nymph the table spread; 
 (Ambrosial cates, with nectar rosy-red;) 
 
 Hermes the hospitable rite partook. 
 
 Divine refection! then, recruited, spoke; 120 
 
 “What moved this journey from my native sky, 
 
 A goddess asks, nor can a god deny: 
 
 Hear then the truth. By mighty Jove’s command. 
 Unwilling have I trod this pleasing land; 
 
 For who, self-moved, with weary wing would sweep 
 Such length of ocean and unmeasured deep: 
 
 A world of waters! far from all the ways 
 Where men frequent, or sacred altars blaze? 
 
 But to Jove’s will submission we must pay; 
 
 What power so great, to dare to disobey? 130 
 
 A man, he says, a man resides with thee. 
 
 Of all his kind most worn with misery; 
 
 The Greeks (whose arms for nine long years employ’d 
 Their force on Ilion, in the tenth destroy’d) 
 
 At length embarking in a luckless hour. 
 
 With conquest proud, incensed Minerva’s power: 
 
 Hence on the guilty race her vengeance hurl’d. 
 
 With storms pursued them through the liquid world. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 91 
 
 There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave! 
 
 There all his dear companions found their grave! 140 
 Saved from the jaws of death by Heaven’s decree, 
 
 The tempest drove him to these shores and thee: 
 
 Him Jove now orders to his native lands 
 Straight to dismiss: so destiny commands: 
 
 Impatient Fate his near return attends, 
 
 And calls him to his country and his friends.” 
 
 Ev’n to her inmost soul the goddess shook; 
 
 Then thus her anguish and her passion broke: 
 
 “Ungracious gods! with spite and envy cursed! 
 
 Still to your own ethereal race the worst! 150 
 
 Ye envy mortal and immortal joy. 
 
 And love, the only sweet of life, destroy. 
 
 Did ever goddess by her charms engage 
 A favour’d mortal, and not feel your rage? 
 
 So when Aurora sought Orion’s love. 
 
 Her joys disturb’d your blissful hours above. 
 
 Till, in Ortygia, Dian’s winged dart 
 
 Had pierced the hapless hunter to the heart. 
 
 So when the covert of the thrice-ear’d field 
 
 Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield, 160 
 
 Scarce could lasion taste her heavenly charms. 
 
 But Jove’s swift lightning scorch’d him in her arms. 
 
 And is it now my turn, ye mighty powers! 
 
 Am I the envy of your blissful bowers? 
 
 A man, an outcast to the storm and wave. 
 
 It was my crime to pity and to save; 
 
 When he who thunders rent his bark in twain, 
 
 And sunk his brave companions in the main. 
 
 Alone, abandon’d, in mid-ocean toss’d, 
 
 The sport of winds, and driven from every coast, 170 
 Hither this man of miseries I led. 
 
 Received the friendless, and the hungry fed; 
 
 Nay, promised—vainly promised!—to bestow 
 Immortal life, exempt from age and wo. 
 
 ’Tis past: and Jove decrees he shall remove; 
 
 Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove. 
 
92 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Go then he may (he must, if he ordain, 
 
 Try all those dangers, all those deeps, again): 
 
 But never, never shall Calypso send 
 
 To toils like these her husband and her friend. 180 
 
 What ships have I, what sailors to convey. 
 
 What oars to cut the long laborious way? 
 
 Yet, ril direct the safest means to go; 
 
 That last advice is all I can bestow.” 
 
 To her the power who bears the charming rod: 
 “Dismiss the man, nor irritate the god: 
 
 Prevent the rage of him who reigns above; 
 
 For what so dreadful as the wrath of Jove?” 
 
 Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky, 
 
 And in a moment vanish’d from her eye. 190 
 
 The nymph, obedient to divine command, 
 
 To seek Ulysses, paced along the sand. 
 
 Him pensive on the lonely beach she found. 
 
 With streaming eyes in briny torrents drown’d. 
 
 And inly pining for his native shore; 
 
 For now the soft enchantress pleased no more: 
 
 For now, reluctant, and constrain’d by charms. 
 
 Absent he lay in her desiring arms; 
 
 In slumber wore the heavy night away; 
 
 On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day: 200 
 
 There sate all desolate, and sigh’d alone. 
 
 With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan. 
 
 And roll’d his eyes o’er all the restless main. 
 
 Till dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again. 
 
 Here, on his musing mood the goddess press’d. 
 Approaching soft; and thus the chief address’d: 
 
 “ Unhappy man! to wasting woes a prey. 
 
 No more in sorrows languish life away: 
 
 Free as the winds I give thee now to rove. 
 
 Go, fell the timber of yon lofty grove, 210 
 
 And form a raft, and build the rising ship. 
 
 Sublime to bear thee o’er the gloomy deep; 
 
 To store the vessel, let the cai'^ be mine, 
 
 With water from the rock, and rosy wine, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 93 
 
 And life-sustaining bread, and fair array, 
 
 And prosperous gales to waft thee on the way. 
 
 These, if the gods with my desires comply, 
 
 (The gods, alas! more mighty far than I, 
 
 And better skill’d in dark events to come,) 
 
 In peace shall land thee at thy native home.” 220 
 
 With sighs Ulysses heard the words she spoke, 
 
 Then thus his melancholy silence broke: 
 
 “Some other motive, goddess! sways thy mind, 
 
 (Some cfose design, or turn of womankind,) 
 
 Nor my return the end, nor this the way. 
 
 On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea— 
 
 Huge, horrid, vast!—where scarce in safety sails 
 The best-built ship, though Jove inspire the gales. 
 
 The bold proposal how shall I fulfil. 
 
 Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will? 230 
 
 Swear then thou mean’st not what my soul forebodes; 
 Swear by the solemn oath that binds the gods.” 
 
 Him, while he spoke, with smiles Calypso eyed. 
 
 And gently grasp’d his hand, and thus replied: 
 
 “This shows thee, friend, by old experience taught. 
 
 And 1 earn’d in all the wiles of human thought. 
 
 How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! 
 
 But hear, oh earth! and hear, ye sacred skies! 
 
 And thou, oh Styx! whose formidable floods 
 Glide through the shades, and bind th’ attesting gods! 240 
 No form’d design, no meditated end. 
 
 Lurks in the counsel of thy faithful friend; 
 
 Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim; 
 
 The same my practice, were my fate the same. 
 
 Heaven has not cursed me with a heart of steel. 
 
 But given the sense to pity and to feel.” 
 
 Thus having said, the goddess march’d before: 
 
 He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore. 
 
 At the cool cave arrived, they took their state: 
 
 He fill’d the throne where Mercury had sate. 
 
 For him the nymph a rich repast ordains, 
 
 Such as the mortal life of man sustains; 
 
 250 
 
94 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Before herself were placed the cates divine, 
 
 Ambrosial banquet, and celestial wine. 
 
 Their hunger satiate, and their thirst repress’d. 
 
 Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest: 
 
 “ Ulysses!” with a sigh she thus began; 
 
 “Oh, sprung from gods! in wisdom more than man! 
 
 Is then thy home the passion of thy heart? 
 
 Thus wilt thou leave me? are we thus to part? 260 
 
 Farewell 1 and ever joyful may’st thou be. 
 
 Nor break the transport with one thought of me. 
 
 But, ah, Ulysses 1 wert thou given to know 
 What Fate yet dooms thee, yet, to undergo; 
 
 Thy heart might settle in this scene of ease, 
 
 And ev’n these slighted charms might learn to please. 
 
 A willing goddess, and immortal life. 
 
 Might banish from thy mind an absent wife. 
 
 Am I inferior to a mortal dame? 
 
 Less soft my feature, less august my frame? 270 
 
 Or shall the daughters of mankind compare 
 Their earth-born beauties with the heavenly fair?” 
 
 “Alas! for this,” the prudent man replies, 
 
 “Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise? 
 
 Loved and adored, oh goddess I as thou art, 
 
 Forgive the weakness of a human heart! 
 
 Though well I see thy graces far above 
 The dear, though mortal, object of my love; 
 
 Of youth eternal well the difference know. 
 
 And the short date of fading charms below; 280 
 
 Yet every day, while absent thus I roam, 
 
 I languish to return, and die at home. 
 
 Whatever the gods shall destine me to bear 
 In the black ocean, or the watery war, 
 
 ’Tis mine to master with a constant mind; 
 
 Inured to perils, to the worst resign’d. 
 
 By seas, by wars, so many dangers run; 
 
 Still I can suffer: their high will be done 1” 
 
 Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun descends, 
 
 And rising night her friendly shade extends. 
 
 290 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 95 
 
 To the close grot the lonely pair remove, 
 
 And slept delighted with the gifts of love. 
 
 When rosy morning call’d them from their rest, 
 
 Ulysses robed him in a cloak and vest: 
 
 The nymph’s fair head a veil transparent graced, 
 
 Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced 
 With flowers of gold: an under-robe, unbound. 
 
 In snowy waves flow’d glittering on the ground. 
 
 Forth issuing thus, she gaye him first to wield 
 A weighty axe with truest temper steel’d, 300 
 
 A double-edged; the handle smooth and plain, 
 
 Wrought of the clouded olive’s easy grain; 
 
 And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy sway: 
 
 Then to the neighbouring forest led the way. 
 
 On the lone island’s utmost verge there stood 
 Of poplars, pines, and firs, a lofty wood. 
 
 Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire. 
 
 Scorch’d by the sun, or sear’d by heavenly fire, 
 
 (Already dried.) These pointing out to view. 
 
 The nymph just show’d him, and with tears withdrew. 
 
 Now toils the hero: trees on trees o’erthrown 310 
 Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan: 
 
 Sudden, full twenty on the plains are strow’d. 
 
 And lopp’d and lighten’d of their branchy load. 
 
 At equal angles these disposed to join. 
 
 He smooth’d, and squared them by the rule and line. 
 
 (The wimbles for the work Calypso found) 
 
 With those he pierced them, and with clinches bound. 
 
 Long and capacious, as a shipwright forms 
 
 Some bark’s broad bottom to out-ride the storms, 320 
 
 So large he built the raft: then ribb’d it strong 
 
 From space to space, and nail’d the planks along; 
 
 These form’d the sides: the deck he fashion’d last; 
 
 Then o’er the vessel raised the taper mast. 
 
 With crossing sail-yards dancing in the wind; 
 
 And to the helm the guiding rudder join’d, 
 
 (With yielding osier’s fenced to break the force 
 Of surging waves, and steer the steady course.) 
 
96 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Thy loom, Calypso! for the future sails 
 
 Supplied the cloth, capacious for the gales. 330 
 
 With stays and cordage last he rigg’d the ship. 
 
 And, roll’d on levers, launch’d her in the deep. 
 
 Four days were past, and now the work complete. 
 Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred seat 
 The nymph dismiss’d him (odorous garments given) 
 
 And bath’d in fragrant oils that breath’d of heaven; 
 
 Then fill’d two goat-skins with her hands divine, 
 
 With water one, and one with sable wine: 
 
 Of every kind, provisions heaved aboard; 
 
 And the full decks with copious viands stored. 340 
 
 The goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies, 
 
 To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies. 
 
 And now, rejoicing in the prosperous gales. 
 
 With beating heart Ulysses spreads his sails: 
 
 Placed at the helm he sate, and mark’d the skies. 
 
 Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes. 
 
 There view’d the Pleiads, and the Northern Team, 
 
 And great Orion’s more refulgent beam. 
 
 To which, around the axle of the sky. 
 
 The Bear, revolving, point^his golden eye: 350 
 
 Who shines exalted on th’ ethereal plain. 
 
 Nor bathes his blazing-forehead in the main. 
 
 Far on the left those radiant fires to keep. 
 
 The nymph directed, as he sails the deep. 
 
 Full seventeen nights he cut the foamy way: 
 
 The distant land appear’d the following day: 
 
 Then swell’d to sight PhsBacia’s dusky coast, 
 
 And woody mountains, half in vapours lost. 
 
 That lay before him, indistinct and vast. 
 
 Like a broad shield amid the watery waste.- 3(50 
 
 But him, thus voyaging the deeps below. 
 
 From far, on Solym^’s aerial brow. 
 
 The king of ocean saw, and, seeing, burn’d; 
 
 (From ^Ethiopia’s happy climes return’d:) 
 
 The raging monarch shook his azure head. 
 
 And thus in secret to his soul he said: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V, 
 
 97 
 
 “Heavens! how uncertain are the powers on high! 
 
 Is then reversed the sentence of the sky, 
 
 In one man’s favour; while a distant guest 
 I shared secure the ^Ethiopian feast? ^ 370 
 
 Behold, how near Phseacia’s land he draws I 
 The land, affix’d by Fate’s eternal laws 
 To end his toils. Is then our anger vain? 
 
 No! if this sceptre yet commands the main.” 
 
 He spoke; and high the forky trident hurl’d. 
 
 Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the watery world. 
 
 At once the face of earth and sea deforms. 
 
 Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms. 
 
 Down rush’d the night: east, west, together roar; 
 
 And south, and north, roll mountains to the shore; 380 
 Then shook the hero, to despair resign’d. 
 
 And question’d thus his yet unconquer’d mind : 
 
 “Wretch that I am! what farther fates attend 
 This life of toils? and what my destined end? 
 
 Too well, alas! the island goddess knew, 
 
 On the black sea what perils should ensue. 
 
 New horrors now this destined head enclose, 
 
 Unfill’d is yet the measure of my woes; 
 
 With what a cloud the brows of heaven are crown’d! 
 What raging winds! what roaring waters round! 390 
 
 ’Tis Jove himself the swelling tempest rears; 
 
 Death, present deaths on every side appears. 
 
 Happy! thrice happj ! who, in battle slain, 
 
 Press’d, in Atrides’ cause, the Trojan plain! 
 
 Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall! 
 
 Had some distinguish’d day renown’d my fall 
 (Such as was that when showers of javelins fled 
 From conquering Troy around Achilles dead): 
 
 All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then, 
 
 And spread my glory with the sons of men. 400 
 
 A shameful fate now hides my hapless head, 
 
 1 Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!” 
 
 A mighty wave rush’d o’er him as he spoke, 
 
 ' The raft it cover’d, and the mast it broke; 
 
 6 G 
 
98 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 Swept from the deck, and from the rudder torn, 
 
 Far on the swelling surge the chief was borne; 
 
 While by the howling tempest rent in twain 
 Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o’er the main. 
 
 Long press’d, he heaved beneath the weighty wave, 
 Clogg’d by the cumbrous vest Calypso gave; 410 
 
 At length emerging, from his nostrils wide. 
 
 And gushing mouth, effused the briny tide; 
 
 Ev’n then, not mindless of his last retreat, 
 
 He seized the raft, and leap’d into his seat. 
 
 Strong with the fear of death. The rolling flood 
 Now here, now there, impel’d the floating wood. 
 
 As when a heap of gather’d thorns is cast 
 Now to, now fro, before th’ autumnal blast; 
 
 Together clung, it rolls around the field; 
 
 So roll’d the float, and so its texture held: 420 
 
 And now the south, and'now the north, bear sway. 
 
 And now the east the foamy floods obey, 
 
 And now the west-wind whirls it o’er the sea. 
 
 The wandering chief, with toils on toils oppress’d, 
 Leucothea saw, and pity touch’d her breast: 
 
 (Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus’ strain. 
 
 But now an azure sister of the main.) 
 
 Swift as a sea-mew, springing from the flood, 
 
 All radiant on the raft the goddess stood: 430 
 
 Then thus address’d him: “Thou, whom Heaven decrees 
 To Neptune’s wrath, stern tyrant of the seas, 
 
 (Unequal contest!) not his rage and power. 
 
 Great as he is, such virtue shall devour. 
 
 What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform: 
 
 Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm; 
 
 Strip off thy garments; Neptune’s fury brave 
 With naked strength, and plunge into the wave. 
 
 To reach Phaeacia all thy nerves extend, 
 
 There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end. 
 
 This heavenly scarf beneath thy bosom bind, 
 
 And live; give all thy terrors to the wind. 
 
 440 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 99 
 
 Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain, 
 
 Return the gift, and cast it in the main; 
 
 Observe my orders, and with heed obey. 
 
 Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away.” 
 
 With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows. 
 
 Then down the deeps she dived from whence she rose: 
 
 A moment snatchM the shining form away. 
 
 And all was cover’d with the curling sea. 
 
 Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt inclined, 450 
 He stands suspended, and explores his mind. 
 
 “What shall I do? Unhappy me! Who knows 
 But other gods intend me other woes? 
 
 Whoe’er thou art, I shall not blindly join 
 Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine: 
 
 For scarce in ken appears that distant isle 
 Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my toil. 
 
 Thus then I judge; while yet the planks sustain 
 The wild waves’ fury, here I fix’d remain; 
 
 But when their texture to the tempests yields, 460 
 
 I launch adventurous on the liquid fields. 
 
 Join to the help of gods the strength of man. 
 
 And take this method, since the best I can.” 
 
 While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold. 
 
 The raging god a watery mountain roll’d; 
 
 Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread. 
 
 Burst o’er the float, and thunder’d on his head. 
 
 Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter’d wood 
 Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood. 
 
 So the rude Boreas, o’er the field new-shorn, 470 
 
 Tosses and drives the scatter’d heaps of corn. 
 
 And now a single beam the chief bestrides; 
 
 There poised awhile above the bounding tides. 
 
 His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest, 
 
 And binds the sacred cincture round his breast: 
 
 Then prone on ocean in a moment flung. 
 
 Stretch’d wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along. 
 
100 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 All naked now, on heaving billows laid, 
 
 Stem Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said: 
 
 “Go, learn’d in woes, and other foes essay! 480 
 
 Go, wander helpless on the watery way; 
 
 Thus, thus find out the destined shore, and then 
 (If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men. 
 
 Whatever thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise 
 Shall last remember’d in thy best of days.” 
 
 This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam, 
 
 And reach high iEgm and the towery dome. 
 
 Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce eai'th-shaking power, 
 Jove’s daughter Pallas watch’d the favouring hour. 
 
 Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly, 490 
 
 And hush’d the blustering brethren of the sky. 
 
 The drier blasts alone of Boreas sway, 
 
 And bear him soft on broken waves away; 
 
 With gentle force impelling to that shore. 
 
 Where Fate has destined he shall toil no more. 
 
 And now two nights, and now two days were past, 
 
 Since wide he wander’d on the watery waste; 
 
 Heaved on the surge with intermitting breath. 
 
 And hourly panting in the arms of death. 
 
 The third fair morn now blazed upon the main; 500 
 Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain; 
 
 The winds were hush’d, the billows scarcely curl’d. 
 
 And a dead silence still’d the watery world; 
 
 When, lifted on a ridgy wave, he spies 
 The land at distance, and with sharpen’d eyes. 
 
 As pious children joy with vast delight 
 When a loved sire revives before their sight, 
 
 (Who, lingering long, has call’d on death in vain. 
 
 Fix’d by some demon to his bed of pain, 
 
 Till Heaven by miracle his life restore;) 510 
 
 So joys Ulysses at th’ appearing shore; 
 
 And sees (and labours onward as he sees) 
 
 The rising forests and the tufted trees. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 101 
 
 And now, as near approaching as the sound 
 Of human voice the listening ear may wound, 
 
 Amidst the rocks he hears a hollow roar 
 Of murmuring surges breaking on the shore: 
 
 Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay, 
 
 To shield the vessel from the rolling sea. 
 
 But cliffs, and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight! 520 
 
 All rough with rocks, and foamy billows white. 
 
 Fear seized his slacken’d limbs and beating heart. 
 
 As thus communed he with his soul apart: 
 
 “Ah me! when o’er a length of waters toss’d. 
 
 These eyes at last behold th’ unhoped-for coast, 
 
 No port receives me from the angry main. 
 
 But the loud deeps demand me back again. 
 
 Above, sharp rocks forbid access; around. 
 
 Roar the wild waves; beneath, is sea profound I 
 No footing sure affords the faithless sand, 530 
 
 To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand. 
 
 If here I enter, my efforts are vain. 
 
 Dash’d on the cliffs, or heaved into the main: 
 
 Or round the island if my course I bend. 
 
 Where the ports open, or the shores descend. 
 
 Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep. 
 
 And bury all my hopes beneath the deep. 
 
 Or some enormous whale the god may send, 
 
 (For many such on Amphitrite attend,) 
 
 Too well the turns of mortal chance I know, 540 
 
 And hate relentless of my heavenly foe.” 
 
 While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore 
 The chief, and dash’d him on the craggy shore: 
 
 Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole. 
 
 But instant Pallas enter’d in his soul. 
 
 Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung. 
 
 And stuck adherent, and suspended hung. 
 
 Till the huge surge roll’d off: then, backward sweep 
 The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep. 
 
102 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 As when the polypus, from forth his cave 
 Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave; 
 
 His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands, 
 
 So the rough rock had shagg’d Ulysses hands. 
 
 And now had perish’d, whelm’d beneath the main, 
 
 Th’ unhappy man; even fate had been in vain; 
 
 But all-subduing Pallas lent her power, 
 
 And prudence saved him in the needful hour. 
 
 Beyond the beating surge his course he bore 
 (A wider circle, but in sight of shore,) 
 
 With longing eyes, observing to survey 
 Some smooth ascent, or safe sequestered bay. 
 
 Between the parting rocks at length he spied 
 A falling stream with gentler waters glide: 
 
 Where to the seas the shelving shore declined. 
 
 And form’d a bay impervious to the wind. 
 
 To this calm port the glad Ulysses press’d. 
 
 And hail’d the river, and its god address’d: 
 
 “Whoe’er thou art, before whose stream unknown 
 I bend, a suppliant at thy watery throne. 
 
 Hear, azure king! nor let me fly in vain 570 
 
 To thee from Neptune and the raging main. 
 
 Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me. 
 
 For sacred ev’n to gods is misery: 
 
 Let then thy waters give the weary rest. 
 
 And save a suppliant, and a man distress’d.” 
 
 He pray’d, and straight the gentle stream subsides. 
 Detains the rushing current of his tides, 
 
 Before the wanderer smooths the watery way. 
 
 And soft receives him from the rolling sea. 
 
 That moment, fainting as he touch’d the shore, 580 
 
 He dropp’d his sinewy arms; his knees no more 
 Perform’d their office, or his weight upheld; 
 
 His swoln heart heaved; his bloated body swell’d; 
 
 From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran; 
 
 And lost in lassitude lay all the man, 
 
 550 
 
 5G0 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V. 
 
 103 
 
 Deprived of voice, of motion, and of breath, 
 
 The soul scarce waking in the arms of death. 
 
 Soon as warm life its wonted office found. 
 
 The mindful chief Leucothea’s scarf unbound; 
 
 Observant of her word, he turn’d aside 590 
 
 His head, and cast it on the rolling tide. 
 
 Behind him far upon the purple waves 
 The waters waft it, and the nymph receives. 
 
 Now parting from the stream, Ulysses found 
 A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown’d; 
 
 The bank he press’d, and gently kiss’d the ground; 
 Where, on the flowery herb as soft he lay, 
 
 Thus to his soul the sage began to say: 
 
 “What will ye next ordain, ye powers on high! 
 
 And yet, ah! yet, what fates are we to try? 600 
 
 Here by the stream, if I the night out-wear, 
 
 Thus spent already, how shall nature bear 
 The dews descending, and nocturnal air; 
 
 Or chilly vapours, breathing from the flood 
 When morning rises? If I take the wood. 
 
 And, in thick shelter of innumerous boughs. 
 
 Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows; 
 
 Though fenced from cold, and though my toil be pass’d. 
 What savage beasts may wander in the waste! 
 
 Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey 110 
 
 To prowling bears or lions in the way.” 
 
 Thus long debating in himself he stood; 
 
 At length he took the passage to the wood. 
 
 Whose shady horrors on a rising brow 
 Waved high, and frown’d upon the stream below. 
 
 There grew two olives, closest of the grove. 
 
 With roots entwined, and branches interwove; 
 
 Alike their leaves, but not alike they smiled 
 With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was wild. 
 
 Nor here the sun’s meridian rays had power, 
 
 Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing shower.; 
 
 620 
 
104 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK vT. 
 
 The verdant arch so close its texture kept. 
 
 Beneath this covert great Ulysses crept: 
 
 Of gathered leaves an ample bed he made 
 
 (Thick strewn by tempest through the bowery shade). 
 
 Where three at least might winter’s cold defy, 
 
 Though Boreas raged along th’ inclement sky. 
 
 This store, with joy the patient hero found. 
 
 And, sunk amidst them, heaped the leaves around. 
 
 As some poor peasant, fated to reside 630 
 
 Remote from neighbours in a forest wide. 
 
 Studious to save what human wants require. 
 
 In embers heaped preserves the seeds of fire: 
 
 Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies. 
 
 Till Pallas pour’d soft slumbers on his eyes; 
 
 And golden dreams (the gift of sweet repose) 
 
 Lull’d all his cares, and banish’d all his woes. 
 
BOOK VI. 
 
 Ulysses discovered by Nausicaa. 
 
 Argument. —Pallas,' appearing* in a dream to Nausicase, (the oaug-hter of 
 Alcinoiis, king* of Phaeacia,) commands her to descend to the river, and 
 wash the robes of state, in preparation to her nuptials, Nausicaa? g-oes 
 with her handmaids to the river; where, while the garments are spread on 
 the bank, they divert themselves in sports. Their voices awake Ulysses, 
 who, addressing himself to the princess, is by her relieved and clothed, 
 and receives directions in what manner to apply to the king and queen of 
 the island. 
 
 While thus the weary wanderer sunk to rest, 
 
 And peaceful slumbers calm’d his anxious breas{; 
 
 The martial maid from heaven’s aerial height 
 Swift to Phseacia wing’d her rapid flight. 
 
 In elder times the soft Phseacian train 
 In ease possess’d the wide Hyperian plain; 
 
 Till the Cyclopean race in arms arose, 
 
 A lawless nation of gigantic foes; 
 
 Then great Nausithoiis from Hyperia far. 
 
 Through seas retreating from the sound of war, 10 
 
 The recreant nation to fair Scheria led. 
 
 Where never science rear’d her laurel’d head; 
 
 There round his tribes a strength of wall he raised; 
 
 To heaven the glittering domes and temples blazed; 
 
 Just to his realms, he parted grounds from grounds. 
 
 And shared the lands, and gave the lands their bounds. 
 Now in the silent grave the monarch lay. 
 
 And wise Alcinoiis held the regal sway. 
 
 To his high palace through the fields of air 
 The goddess shot; Ulysses was her care. 20 
 
 There, as the night in silence roll’d away, 
 
 A heaven of charms divine Nausicaas lay; 
 
 Through the thick gloom the shining portals blaze; 
 
 Two nymphs the portals guard, each nymph a Grace. 
 
 5* 
 
106 the odyssey, book VI. 
 
 Light as the viewless air, the warrior-maid 
 
 Glides through the valves, and hovers round her head; 
 
 A favourite virgin’s blooming form she took. 
 
 From Dymas sprung, and thus the vision spoke: 
 
 “Oh, indolent! to waste thy hours away! 
 
 And sleep’st thou careless of the bridal-day ? 30 
 
 Thy spousal ornament neglected lies; 
 
 Arise, prepare the bridal-train, arise! 
 
 A just applause the cares of dress impart. 
 
 And give soft transport to a parent’s heart. 
 
 Haste, to the limpid stream direct thy way. 
 
 When the gay morn unveils her smiling ray: 
 
 Haste to the stream! companion of thy care, 
 
 Lo, I thy steps attend, thy labours share. 
 
 Virgin, awake! the marriage hour is nigh. 
 
 See! from their thrones thy kindred monarchs sigh! 40 
 
 The royal car at early dawn obtain, 
 t And order mules obedient to the rein: 
 
 For rough the way, and distant rolls the wave. 
 
 Where their fair vests Phaeacian virgins lave. 
 
 In pomp ride forth; for pomp becomes the great, 
 
 And majesty derives a grace from state.” 
 
 Then to the palaces of heaven she sails. 
 
 Incumbent on the wings of wafting gales; 
 
 The seat of gods: the regions mild of peace. 
 
 Full joy, and calm eternity of ease: 50 
 
 There no rude winds presume to shake the skies. 
 
 No rains descend, no snowy vapours rise: 
 
 But on immortal thrones the bless’d repose; 
 
 The firmament with living splendor glows. 
 
 Hither the goddess wing’d th’ aerial way, 
 
 Through heaven’s eternal gates that blazed with day. 
 
 Now from her rosy car Aurora shed 
 The dawn, and all the orient flamed with red. 
 
 Up rose the virgin with the morning light. 
 
 Obedient to the vision of the night. 60 
 
 The queen she sought: the queen her hours bestow’d 
 In curious works; the whirling spindle glow’d 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 With crimson threads, while busy damsels cull 
 The snowy fleece, or twist the purpled wool. 
 Meanwhile, Phseacia’s peers in council sate; 
 
 From his high dome the king descends in state; 
 Then with a filial awe the royal maid 
 Approach’d him passing, and submissive said: 
 
 “Will my dread sire his ear regardful deign, 
 
 And may his child the royal car obtain? 
 
 Say, with thy garments shall I bend my way, 
 Where through the vales the mazy waters stray! 
 
 A dignity of dress adorns the great. 
 
 And kings draw lustre from the robe of state. 
 
 Five sons thou hast; three wait the bridal-day. 
 And spotless robes become the young and gay; 
 
 So when with praise amid the dance they shine. 
 By these my cares adorn’d, that praise is mine.” 
 
 Thus she: but blushes, ill-restrain’d, betray 
 Her thoughts intentive on the bridal-day: 
 
 The conscious sire the dawning blush survey’d, 
 And, smiling, thus bespoke the blooming maid: 
 
 “ My child, my darling joy, the car receive; 
 
 That, and whate’er our daughter asks, we give.” 
 
 Swift at the royal nod th’ attending train 
 The car prepare, the mules incessant rein. 
 
 The blooming virgin with despatchful cares 
 Tunics, and stoles, and robes imperial, bears. 
 
 The queen, assiduous, to her train assigns 
 The sumptuous viands, and the flavorous wines. 
 The train prepare a cruise of curious mould, 
 
 A cruise of fragrance, form’d of burnish’d gold: 
 Odour divine! whose soft refreshing streams 
 Sleek the smooth skin, and scent the snowy limbs. 
 
 Now mounting the gay seat, the silken reins 
 Shine in her hand; along the sounding plains 
 Swift fly the mules: nor rode the nymph alone; 
 Around, a bevy of bright damsels shone. 
 
 They seek the cisterns where Phisacian dames 
 Wash their fair garments in the limpid streams; 
 
108 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 Where, gathering into depth from falling rills, 
 
 The lucid wave a spacious basin fills. 
 
 The mules unharness’d, range beside the main. 
 
 Or crop the verdant herbage of the plain. 
 
 Then, emulous, the royal robes they lave. 
 
 And plunge the vestures in the cleansing wave; 
 
 (The vestures cleansed o’erspread the shelly sand, 
 
 Their snowy lustre whitens ail the strand;) 
 
 Then with a short repast relieve their toil. 
 
 And o’er their limbs diffuse ambrosial oil; 110 
 
 And while the robes imbibe the solar ray. 
 
 O’er the green mead the sporting virgins play, 
 
 (Their shining veils unbound.) Along the skies 
 Toss’d, and retoss’d, the ball incessant flies. 
 
 They sport, they feast: Nausicaee lifts her voice. 
 
 And, warbling sweet, makes earth and heaven rejoice. 
 
 As when o’er Erymanth Diana roves. 
 
 Or wide Taygetus’ resounding groves; 
 
 A sylvan train the huntress-queen surrounds. 
 
 Her rattling quiver from her shoulder sounds: 120 
 
 Fierce in the sport, along the mountain’s brow 
 They bay the boar, or chaseThe bounding roe; 
 
 High o’er the lawn, with more majestic pace. 
 
 Above the nymphs she treads with stately grace; 
 Distinguish’d excellence the goddess proves; 
 
 Exults Latona, as the virgin moves: 
 
 With equal grace Nausicase trod the plain. 
 
 And shone transcendent o’er the beauteous train. 
 
 Meantime, (the care and favourite of the skies) 
 
 Wrapt in embowering shade, Ulysses lies. 130 
 
 His woes forgot; but Pallas now address’d 
 To break the bands of all-composing rest. 
 
 Forth from her snowy hand Nausicase threw 
 The various ball; the ball erroneous flew, 
 
 And swam the stream; loud shrieks the virgin train, 
 
 And the loud shriek redoubles from the main. 
 
 Waked by the shrilling sound, Ulysses rose. 
 
 And, to the deaf woods wailing, breathed his woes. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI, 
 
 109 
 
 “Ah me! on what inhospitable coast, 
 
 Or what new region, is Ulysses tost: 140 
 
 Possess’d by wild barbarians fierce in arms; 
 
 Or men, whose bosom tender pity warms? 
 
 What sounds are these that gather from the shores? 
 
 The voice of nymphs that haunt the sylvan bowers, 
 
 The fair-hair’d Dryads of the shady wood; 
 
 Or azure daughters of the silver flood; 
 
 Or human voice? but, issuing from the shades. 
 
 Why cease I straight to learn what sound invades?” 
 
 Then, where the grove with leaves umbrageous bends, 
 With forceful strength a branch the hero rends; 151 
 Around his loins the verdant cincture spreads 
 A wreathy foliage and concealing shade. 
 
 As when a lion in the midnight hours. 
 
 Beat by rude blasts, and wet with wintry showers, 
 Descends terrific from the mountain’s brow; 
 
 With living flames his rolling eye-balls glow; 
 
 With conscious strength elate, he bends his way, 
 Majestically fierce to seize his prey, 
 
 (The steer or stag;) or, with keen hunger bold. 
 
 Springs o’er the fence, and dissipates the fold: 160 
 
 No less a terror, from the neighbouring groves 
 (Rough from the tossing surge) Ulysses moves; 
 
 Urged on by want, and recent from the storms: 
 
 The brackish ooze his manly grace deforms. 
 
 Wide o’er the shore with many a piercing cry 
 To rocks, to caves, the frighted virgins fly; 
 
 All but the nymph: the nymph stood fix’d alone. 
 
 By Pallas arm’d with boldness not her own. 
 
 Meantime, in dubious thought the king awaits. 
 
 Ana, self-considering, as he stands, debates; 170 
 
 Distant his mournful story to declare. 
 
 Or prostrate at her knee address the prayer. 
 
 But fearful to oflfend, by wisdom sway’d. 
 
 At awful distance he accosts the maid: 
 
 “If from the skies a goddess, or if earth 
 (Imperial virgin) boast thy glorious birth. 
 
no 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 To thee I bend! If in that bright disguise 
 Thou visit earth, a daughter of the skies, 
 
 Hail! Dian, hail! the huntress of the groves 
 So shines majestic, and so stately moves, 180 
 
 So breathes an air divine! But if thy race 
 Be mortal, and this earth thy native place, 
 
 Bless’d is the father from "whose loins you sprung, 
 
 Bless’d is the mother at whose breast you hung, 
 
 Bless’d are the brethren who thy blood divide, 
 
 To such a miracle of charms allied: 
 
 Joyful they see applauding princes gaze. 
 
 When stately in the dance you swim th’ harmonious maze. 
 But bless’d o’er all, the youth with heavenly charms. 
 
 Who clasps the bright perfection in his arms! 190 
 
 Never, I never view’d till this bless’d hour, 
 
 Such finish’d grace 1 I gaze, and I adore 1 
 
 Thus seems the palm, with stately honours crown d 
 
 By Phmbus’ altars, thus o’erlooks the ground; 
 
 The pride of Delos. (By the Delian coast, 
 
 I voyaged, leader of a warrior-host. 
 
 But, ah, how changed! from thence my sorrow flows; 
 
 Oh, fatal voyage, source of all my woes!) 
 
 Raptured I stood, and, as this hour amazed. 
 
 With reverence at the lofty wonder gazed: 200 
 
 Raptured I stand! for earth ne’er knew to bear 
 A plant so stately, or a nymph so fair. 
 
 Awed from access, I lift my suppliant hands; 
 
 For misery, oh queen, before thee stands! 
 
 Twice ten tempestuous nights I roll’d, resign’d 
 To roaring billows, and the warring wind: 
 
 Heaven bade the deep to spare! but Heaven, my foe. 
 Spares only to inflict some mightier wo! 
 
 Inured to cares, to death in all its forms. 
 
 Outcast I rove, familiar with the storms! 210 
 
 Once more I view the face of human kind: 
 
 Oh, let soft pity touch thy generous mind! 
 
 Unconscious of what air I breathe, I stand 
 Naked, defenceless, on a foreign land. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Propitious to my wants, a vest supply 
 To guard the wretched from th’ inclement sky: 
 
 So may the gods, who heaven and earth control. 
 
 Crown the chaste wishes of thy virtuous soul! 
 
 On thy soft hours their choicest blessings shed; 
 
 Bless’d with a husband be thy bridal-bed; 220 
 
 Bless’d be thy husband with a blooming race, 
 
 And lasting union crown your blissful days. 
 
 The gods, when they supremely bless, bestow 
 Firm union on their favourites below: 
 
 Then envy grieves, with inly-pining hate: 
 
 The good exult, and Heaven is in our state.” 
 
 To whom the nymph: “Oh, stranger! cease thy care: 
 Wise is thy soul, but man is born to bear: 
 
 Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales. 
 
 And the good suffers, while the bad prevails. 230 
 
 Bear, with a soul resign’d, the will of Jove: 
 
 Who breathes, must mourn: thy woes are from above. 
 But since thou tread’st our hospitable shore, 
 
 ’Tis mine to bid the wretched grieve no more, 
 
 To clothe the naked, and thy way to guide: 
 
 Know, the Phasacian tribes this land divide; 
 
 From great Alcinoiis’ royal loins I spring, 
 
 A happy nation, and a happy king.” 
 
 Then to her maids: “Why, why, ye coward train, 
 These fears, this flight? ye fear and fly in vain. 240 
 Dread ye a foe? dismiss that idle dread, 
 
 ’Tis death with hostile steps these shores to tread: 
 
 Safe in the love of Heaven, an ocean flows 
 Around our realm, a barrier from the foes; 
 
 ’Tis ours this son of sorrow to relieve. 
 
 Cheer the sad heart, nor let affliction grieve. 
 
 By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent; 
 
 And what to those we give, to Jove is lent. 
 
 Then food supply, and bathe his fainting limbs 
 Where waving shades obscure the mazy streams.” 250 
 Obedient to the call, the chief they guide 
 To the calm current of the secret tide: 
 
112 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK V?. 
 
 Close by the stream a royal dress they lay, 
 
 A vest and robe with rich embroidery gay: 
 
 Then unguents in a vase of gold supply, 
 
 That breathed a fragrance through the balmy sky. 
 
 To them the king: “No longer I detain 
 Your friendly care; retire, ye virgin train! 
 
 Retire, while from my wearied limbs I lave 
 
 The foul pollution of the briny wave. 260 
 
 Ye gods! since this worn frame refection knew. 
 
 What scenes have I survey’d of dreadful view I 
 But, nymphs, recede! sage chastity denies 
 To raise the blush, or pain the modest eyes.” 
 
 The nymphs withdrawn, at once into the tide 
 Active he bounds; the flashing waves divide: 
 
 O’er all his limbs his hands the wave diffuse, 
 
 And from his locks compress the weedy ooze; 
 
 The balmy oil, a fragrant shower, he sheds: 
 
 Then, dress’d, in pomp magnificently treads. 270 
 
 The warrior-goddess gives his frame to shine 
 With majesty enlarged, and air divine: 
 
 Back from his brows a length of hair unfurls. 
 
 His hyacinthine locks descend in wavy curls. 
 
 As by some artist to whom Vulcan gives 
 His skill divine, a breathing statue lives; 
 
 By Pallas taught, he frames the wondrous mould. 
 
 And o’er the silver pours the fusile gold: 
 
 So Pallas his heroic frame improves 
 With heavenly bloom, and like a god he moves. 280 
 A fragrance breathes around; majestic grace 
 Attends his steps; th’ astonish’d virgins gaze. 
 
 Soft he reclines along the murmuring seas. 
 
 Inhaling freshness from the fanning breeze. 
 
 The wondering nymph his glorious port survey’d. 
 
 And to her damsels, with amazement, said: 
 
 “Not without care divine the stranger treads 
 This land of joy; his steps some godhead leads: 
 
 Would Jove destroy him, sure he had been driven 
 Far from this realm, the favourite isle of Heaven. 
 
 290 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 Late a sad spectacle of wo, he trod 
 The desert sands, and now he looks a god. 
 
 Oh, Heaven! in my connubial hour decree 
 This man my spouse, or such a spouse as he.— 
 
 But haste, the viands and the bowl provide.” 
 
 The maids the viands and the bowl supplied: 
 
 Eager he fed, for keen his hunger raged. 
 
 And with the generous vintage thirst assuaged. 
 
 Now on return her care Nausicase bends. 
 
 The robes resumes, the glittering car ascends. 
 
 Far blooming o’er the field; and as she press’d 
 The splendid seat, the listening chief address’d: 
 
 Stranger, arise! the sun rolls down the day; 
 
 Lo, to the palace I direct the way; ■ 
 
 Where in high state the nobles of the land 
 Attend my royal sire, a radiant band. 
 
 But hear, though wisdom in thy soul presides, 
 
 Speaks from thy tongue, and every action guides; 
 Advance at distance, while I pass the plain 
 Where o’er the furrows waves the golden grain: 310 
 
 Alone I reascend.—With airy mounds 
 A strength of wall the guarded city bounds; 
 
 The jutting land two ample bays divides; 
 
 Full through the narrow mouths descend the tides: 
 
 The spacious basin arching rocks enclose, 
 
 A sure defence from every storm that blows. 
 
 Close to the bay g*reat Neptune’s fane adjoins, 
 
 And near, a forum flank’d with marble shines, 
 
 Where the bold youth, the numerous fleets to store. 
 
 Shape the broad sail, or smooth the taper oar: 320 
 
 For not the bow they bend, nor boast the skill 
 To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill; 
 
 But the tall mast above the vessel rear. 
 
 Or teach the fluttering sail to float in air. 
 
 They rush into the deep with eager joy, 
 
 Climb the steep surge, and through the tempest fly; 
 
 A proud, unpolish’d race.—To me belongs 
 The care to shun the blast of slanderous tongues, 
 
 H 
 
 113 
 
 300 
 
114 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 Lest malice, prone the virtuous to defame, 
 
 Thus with vile censure taint my spotless name: 
 
 “‘What stranger this whom thus Nausicase leads? 
 Heavens! with what graceful majesty he treads! 
 Perhaps a native of some distant shore. 
 
 The future consort of her bridal-hour; 
 
 Or rather some descendant of the skies: 
 
 Won by her prayer, th’ aerial bridegroom flies. 
 Heaven on that hour its choicest influence shed, 
 That gave a foreign spouse to crown her bed! 
 
 All, all the godlike worthies that adorn 
 This realm, she flies: Phmacia is her scorn.’ 
 
 “And just the blame: for female innocence 
 Not only flies the guilt, but shuns th’ offence; 
 
 Th’ unguarded virgin, as unchaste, I blame; 
 
 And the least freedom with the sex is shame, 
 
 Till our consenting sires a spouse provide, 
 
 And public nuptials justify the bride. 
 
 “But would’st thou soon review thy native plain? 
 Attend, and speedy thou shalt pass the main: 
 
 Nigh where a grove with verdant poplars crown’d, 
 To Pallas sacred, shades the holy ground. 
 
 We bend our way: a bubbling fount distils 
 A lucid lake, and thence descends in rills; 
 
 Around the grove, a mead with lively green 
 Falls by degrees, and forms a beauteous scene; 
 Here a rich juice the royal vineyard pours; 
 
 And there the garden yields a waste of flowers. 
 Hence lies the town, as far as to the ear 
 Floats a long shout along the waves of air. 
 
 There wait embower’d, while I ascend alone 
 To great Alcinoiis on his royal throne. _ 
 Arrived, advance, impatient of delay, ^ 
 
 And to the lofty palace bend thy way: 
 
 The lofty palace overlooks the town. 
 
 From every dome by pomp superior known; 
 
 A child may point the way. With earnest gait 
 Seek thou the queen along the rooms of state; 
 
 830 
 
 340 
 
 350 
 
 360 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VI. 
 
 Her royal hand a wondrous work designs; 
 
 Around a circle of bright damsels shines; 
 
 Part twist the threads, and part the wool dispose, 
 While with the purple orb the spindle glows. 
 
 High on a throne, amid the Scherian powers 
 My royal father shares the genial hours; 
 
 But to the queen thy mournful tale disclose. 
 
 With the prevailing eloquence of woes: 
 
 So shalt thou view with joy thy natal shore. 
 
 Though mountains rise between, and oceans roar.” 
 
 She added not; but waving as she wheel’d 
 The silver scourge, it glitter’d o’er the field: 
 
 With skill the virgin guides th’ embroider’d rein. 
 Slow rolls the car before th’ attending train. 
 
 Now whirling down the heavens, the golden day 
 Shot through the western clouds a dewy ray; 
 
 The grove they reach, where from the sacred shade 
 To Pallas thus the pensive hero pray’d: 
 
 “Daughter of Jove! whose arms in thunder wield 
 Th’ avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield; 
 Forsook by thee, in vain I sought thy aid 
 When booming billows closed above my head: 
 Attend, unconquer’d maid 1 accord my vows. 
 
 Bid the great hear, and pitying heal my woes.” 
 
 This heard Minerva, but forebode to fly 
 (By Neptune awed) apparent from the sky; 
 
 Stern god! who raged with vengeance unrestrain’d, 
 Till great Ulysses hail’d his native land. 
 
 115 
 
 370 
 
 380 
 
 390 
 
BOOK VII. 
 
 The Court of Alcinous; Reception of Ulysses. 
 
 Argument. —The princess Nausicaae returns to the city, and Ulysses soon 
 after follows thither. He is met by Pallas in the form of a young- virgin, 
 who guides him to the palace, and directs him in what manner to address 
 the queen Aretb. She then involves him in a mist, which causes him to 
 pass invisible. The palace and gardens of Alcinous described. Ulysses, 
 falling at the feet of the queen, the mist disperses, the Phseacians admire, 
 and receive him with respect. The queen inquiring by what means he had 
 the garments he then wore, he relates to her and Alcinous his departure 
 from Calypso, and his arrival on their dominions. 
 
 The same day continues, and the book ends with the night. 
 
 The patient, heavenly man thus suppliant pray’d; 
 
 While the slow mules draw on th’ imperial maid: 
 Through the proud street she moves, the public gaze: 
 
 The turning wheel before the palace stays. 
 
 With ready love her brothers, gathering round, 
 
 Received the vestures, and the mules unbound. 
 
 She seeks the bridal-bower: a matron there 
 The rising fire supplies with busy care, 
 
 Whose charms in youth her father’s heart inflamed, 
 
 Now worn with age, Eurymedusa named: 10 
 
 The captive dame Phseacian rovers bore, 
 
 Snatch’d from Epirus, her sweet native shore, 
 
 (A grateful prize,) and in her bloom bestow’d 
 On good Alcinous, honour’d as a god; 
 
 Nurse of Nausicaae from her infant years, 
 
 And tender second to a mother’s cares. 
 
 Now from the sacred thicket where he lay. 
 
 To town Ulysses took the winding way. 
 
 Propitious Pallas, to secure her care. 
 
 Around him spread a veil of thicken’d air: 20 
 
 To shun th’ encounter of the vulgar crowd, 
 
 Insulting still, inquisitive and loud. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 117 
 
 When near the famed Phaeacian walls he drew, 
 
 The beauteous city opening to his view, 
 
 His step a virgin met, and stood before: 
 
 A polish’d urn the seeming virgin bore, 
 
 And youthful smiled; but in the low disguise 
 Lay hid the goddess with the azure eyes. 
 
 “Show me, fair daughter,” thus the chief demands, 
 “The house of him who rules these happy lands. 30 
 Through many woes and wanderings, lo! I come 
 To good Alcinoiis’ hospitable dome. 
 
 Far from my native coast, I rove alone, 
 
 A wretched stranger, and of all unknown!” 
 
 The goddess answer’d, “Father, I obey. 
 
 And point the wandering traveller his way; 
 
 Well known to me the palace you inquire, 
 
 For fast beside it dwells my honour’d sire: 
 
 But silent march, nor greet the common train 
 
 With questions needless, or inquiry vain: 40 
 
 A race of rugged mariners are these: 
 
 Unpolish’d men, and boisterous as their seas; 
 
 The native islanders alone their care. 
 
 And hateful he who breathes a foreign air. 
 
 These did the ruler of the deep ordain 
 To build proud navies, and command the main; 
 
 On canvas-wings to cut the watery way: 
 
 No bird so light, no thought so swift as they.” 
 
 Thus having spoke, th’ unknown celestial leads: 
 
 The footstep of the deity he treads, 50 
 
 And secret moves along the crowded space. 
 
 Unseen of all the rude Phaeacian race. 
 
 (So Pallas order’d. Pallas to their eyes 
 The mist objected, and condensed the skies.) 
 
 The chief with wonder sees th’ extended streets, 
 
 The spreading harbours, and the riding fleets; 
 
 He next their princes’ lofty domes admires. 
 
 In separate islands, crown’d with rising spires; 
 
 And deep entrenchments, and high walls of stone, 
 
 That gird the city like a marble zone. 
 
 60 
 
118 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 At length the kingly palace-gates he view’d; 
 
 There stopp’d the goddess, and her speech renew’d: 
 
 “ My task is done; the mansion you inquire 
 Appears before you: enter and admire. 
 
 High-throned, and feasting, there thou shalt behold 
 The sceptred rulers. Fear not, but be bold: 
 
 A decent boldness ever meets with friends. 
 
 Succeeds, and ev’n a stranger recommends. 
 
 First to the queen prefer a suppliant’s claim, 
 
 Alcinous’ queen, Aret^ is her name, *70 
 
 The same her parents, and her power the same. 
 
 For know, from Ocean’s god Nausithous sprung. 
 
 And Periboea, beautiful and young: 
 
 (Eurymedon’s last hope, who ruled of old 
 The race of giants, impious, proud, and bold; 
 
 Perish’d the nation in unrighteous war. 
 
 Perish’d the prince, and left this only heir; 
 
 Who now by Neptune’s amorous power compress’d, 
 Produced a monarch that his people bless’d, 
 
 Father and prince of the Phseacian name; 80 
 
 From him Rhexenor and Alcinous came. 
 
 The first by Phoebus’ burning arrows fired. 
 
 New from his nuptials, hapless youth! expired. 
 
 No son survived: Arete heir’d his state. 
 
 And her Alcinous chose his royal mate. 
 
 With honours yet to womankind unknown, 
 
 This queen he graces, and divides the throne; 
 
 In equal tenderness her sons conspire. 
 
 And all the children emulate their sire. 
 
 When through the streets she gracious deigns to move, 90 
 (The public wonder and the public love,) 
 
 The tongues of all with transport sound her praise, 
 
 The eyes of all, as on a goddess, gaze. 
 
 She feels the triumph of a generous breast; 
 
 To heal divisions, to relieve th’ oppress’d; 
 
 In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless’d. 
 
 Go then secure, thy humble suit prefer. 
 
 And owe thy country and thy friends to her.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 119 
 
 With that the goddess deign’d no longer stay, 
 
 But o’er the world of waters wing’d her way: 100 
 
 Forsaking Scheria’s ever-pleasing shore, 
 
 The winds to Marathon the virgin bore; 
 
 Thence, where proud Athens rears her towery head. 
 With opening streets and shining structures spread. 
 
 She pass’d, delighted with the well-known seats; 
 
 And to Erectheus’ sacred dome retreats. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ulysses at the palace waits, 
 
 There stops, and anxious with his soul debates, 
 
 Fix’d in amaze before the royal gates.' 
 
 The front appeared with radiant splendours gay, 110 
 Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day. 
 
 The walls were massy brass: the cornice high 
 Blue metals crown’d, in colours of the sky: 
 
 Rich plates of gold the folding-doors incase; 
 
 The pillars silver, on a brazen base; 
 
 Silver the lintels, deep projecting o’er. 
 
 And gold the ringlets that command the door. 
 
 Two rows of stately dogs on either hand. 
 
 In sculptured gold and laboured silver stand. 
 
 These Vulcan form’d with art divine, to wait 120 
 
 Immortal guardians at Alcinoiis’ gate; 
 
 Alive each animated frame appears. 
 
 And still to live beyond the power of years. 
 
 Fair thrones within from space to space were raised; 
 Where various carpets with embroidery blazed, 
 
 The work of matrons: these the princes press’d. 
 
 Day following day, a long-continued feast. 
 
 Refulgent pedestals the walls surround. 
 
 Which boys of gold with flaming torches crown’d; 
 
 The polish’d ore, reflecting every ray, 130 
 
 Blazed on the banquets with a double day. 
 
 Full fifty handmaids form the household train; 
 
 Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain; 
 
 Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move 
 Like poplar leaves when Zephyr fans the grove. 
 
 Not more renown’d the men of Scheria’s isle 
 For sailing arts and all the naval toil, 
 
120 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 Than works of female skill their women’s pride, 
 
 The flying shuttle through the threads to guide: 
 
 Pallas to these her double gifts imparts, 140 
 
 Inventive genius and industrious arts. 
 
 Close to the gate a spacious garden lies, 
 
 From storms defended and inclement skies. 
 
 Four acres was th’ allotted space of ground, ‘ 
 
 Fenced with a green enclosure all around. 
 
 Tall thriving trees confess’d the fruitful mould; 
 
 The reddening apple ripens here to gold. 
 
 Here the blue fig with luscious juice o’erflows, 
 
 With deeper red the full pomegranate glows, 
 
 The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear, 
 
 And verdant olives flourish round the year. 150 
 
 The balmy spirit of the western gale 
 Eternal breathes on fruits, untaught to fail: 
 
 Each dropping pear a following pear supplies, 
 
 On apples, apples; figs on figs arise: 
 
 The same mild season gives the blooms to blow, 
 
 The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow. 
 
 Here order’d vines in equal ranks appear. 
 
 With all th’ united labours of the year; 
 
 Some to unload the fertile branches run, 160 
 
 Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun. 
 
 Others to tread the liquid harvest join. 
 
 The groaning presses foam with floods of wine. 
 
 Here are the vines in early flower descried. 
 
 Here grapes discolour’d on the sunny side. 
 
 And there in autumn’s richest purple dyed. 
 
 Beds of all various herbs, for ever green. 
 
 In beauteous order terminate the scene. 
 
 Two plenteous fountains the whole prospect crown’d; 
 This through the garden leads its streams around, 170 
 Visits each plant, and waters all the ground; 
 
 While that in pipes beneath the palace flows. 
 
 And thence its current on the town bestows: 
 
 To various use their various streams they bring. 
 
 The people one, and one supplies the king. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 121 
 
 Such were the glories which the gods ordain’d 
 To grace Alcinoiis and his happy land. 
 
 Even from the chief, who men and nations knew, 
 
 Th’ unwonted scene surprise and rapture drew: 
 
 In pleasing thought he ran the prospect o’er, 180 
 
 Then hasty enter’d at the lofty door. 
 
 Night now approaching, in the palace stand. 
 
 With goblets crown’d, the rulers of the land; 
 
 Prepared for rest, and offering to the god* 
 
 Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod. 
 
 Unseen he glided through the joyous crowd. 
 
 With darkness circled, and an ambient cloud. 
 
 Direct to great Alcinous’ throne he came. 
 
 And prostrate fell before th’ imperial dame. 
 
 Then from around him dropp’d the veil of night; 190 
 Sudden he shines, and manifest to sight. 
 
 The nobles gaze, with awful fear oppress’d; 
 
 Silent they gaze, and eye the godlike guest. 
 
 “Daughter of great Rhexenor!” thus began. 
 
 Low at her knees, the much-enduring man, 
 
 “To thee, thy consort, and this royal train. 
 
 To all that share the blessings of your reign, 
 
 A suppliant bends: oh, pity human wo! 
 
 ’Tis what the happy to th’ unhappy owe. 
 
 A wretched exile to his country send, 200 
 
 Long worn with griefs, and long without a friend; 
 
 So may the gods your better days increase, 
 
 And all your joys descend on all your race; 
 
 So reign for ever on your country’s breast. 
 
 Your people blessing, by your people bless’d!” 
 
 Then to the genial earth he bow’d his face, 
 
 And humbled in the ashes took his place. 
 
 Silence ensued. The eldest first began, 
 
 Echeneus sage, a venerable man. 
 
 Whose well-taught mind the present age surpass’d. 
 
 And join’d to that th’ experience of the last. 210 
 
 6 
 
 * Mercury. 
 
122 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 Fit words attended on his weighty sense, 
 
 And mild persuasion flow’d in eloquence: 
 
 “Oh, sight,” he cried, “dishonest and unjust! 
 
 A guest, a stranger, seated in the dust! 
 
 To raise the lowly suppliant from the ground 
 Befits a monarch. Lo 1 the peers around 
 But wait thy word, the gentle guest to grace. 
 
 And seat him fair in some distinguish’d place. 
 
 Let first the herald due libations pay 
 To Jove, who guides the wanderer on his way; 
 Then set the genial banquet in his view. 
 
 And give the stranger-guest a stranger’s due.” 
 
 His sage advice the listening king obeys. 
 
 He stretch’d his hand the prudent chief to raise. 
 And from his seat Laodamas removed, 
 
 (The monarch’s offspring, and his best beloved;) 
 There next his side the godlike hero sate; 
 
 With stars of silver shone the bed of state. 
 
 The golden ewer a beauteous handmaid brings, 
 Replenish’d from the cool translucent springs. 
 Whose polish’d vase with copious streams supplies 
 A silver laver of capacious size. 
 
 The table next in regal order spread. 
 
 The glittering canisters are heap’d with bread; 
 Viands of various kinds invite the taste. 
 
 Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast 1 
 Thus feasting high, Alcinoiis gave the sign. 
 
 And bade the herald pour the rosy wine. 
 
 “Let all around the due libation pay 
 
 To Jove, who guides the wanderer on his way.” 
 
 He said. Pontinus heard the king’s command; 
 The circling goblet moves from hand to hand; 
 Each drinks the juice that glads the heart of man, 
 Alcinoiis then, with aspect mild, began: 
 
 “Princes and peers, attend; while we impart 
 To you the thoughts of no inhuman heart. 
 
 Now pleased and satiate from the social rite 
 Repair we to the blessings of the night; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 But with the rising day, assembled here, 
 
 Let all the elders of the land appear, 
 
 Pious observe our hospitable laws. 
 
 And heaven propitiate in the stranger’s cause; 
 
 Then, join’d in council, proper means explore 
 Safe to transport him to the wish’d-for shore. 
 
 (How distant that, imports not us to know, 
 
 Nor weigh the labour, but relieve the wo.) 
 
 Meantime, nor harm nor anguish let him bear: 
 
 This interval. Heaven trusts him to our care; 
 
 But to his native land our charge resign’d, 
 
 Heaven’s is his life to come, and all the woes behind. 
 Then must he suffer what the Fates ordain; 
 
 For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain! 
 
 And twins ev’n from the birth are misery and man I 
 But if, descended from th’ Olympian bower. 
 
 Gracious approach us some immortal power; 
 
 If in that form thou com’st a guest divine. 
 
 Some high event the conscious gods design. 
 
 As yet, unhid they never graced our feast; 
 
 The solemn sacrifice call’d down the guest: 270 
 
 Then manifest of heaven the vision stood. 
 
 And to our eyes familiar was the god. 
 
 Oft with some favour’d traveller they stray. 
 
 And shine before him all the desert way; 
 
 With social intercourse, and face to face. 
 
 The friends and guardians of our pious race. 
 
 So near approach we their celestial kind. 
 
 By justice, truth, and probity of mind; 
 
 As our dire neighbours of Cyclopean birth 
 Match in fierce wrong the giant-sons of earth.” 280 
 “Let no such thought,” with modest grace rejoin’d 
 The prudent Greek, “possess the royal mind. 
 
 Alas 1 a mortal, like thyself, am I; 
 
 No glorious native of yon azure sky: 
 
 In form, ah, how unlike their heavenly kind! 
 
 How more inferior in the gifts of mind I 
 Alas, a mortal 1 most oppress’d of those 
 Whom Fate has loaded with a weight of woes; 
 
 123 
 
 250 
 
 260 
 
124 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 By a sad train of miseries alone a| 
 
 Distinguish’d long, and second now to none! 290 j; 
 
 By Heaven’s high will compel’d from shore to shore; 
 
 With Heaven’s high will prepared to suffer more. 
 
 What histories of toil could I declare! 
 
 But still long-wearied nature wants repair; 
 
 Spent with fatigue, and shrunk with pining fast. 
 
 My craving bowels still require repast. 
 
 Howe’er the noble, suffering mind may grieve ‘ 
 
 Its load of anguish, and disdain to live. 
 
 Necessity demands our daily bread; 
 
 Hunger is insolent, and will be fed. 300 
 
 But finish, oh ye peers! what you propose. 
 
 And let the morrow’s dawn conclude my woes. 
 
 Pleased will I suffer all the gods ordain. 
 
 To see my soil, my son, my friends, again. 
 
 That view vouchsafed, let instant death surprise 
 With ever-during shade these happy eyes!” 
 
 Th’ assembled peers with general praise approved 
 His pleaded reason, and the suit he moved. 
 
 Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares, 
 
 And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs. 310 
 
 Ulysses in the regal walls alone 
 Remain’d: beside him, on a splendid throne, 
 
 Divine Aret^ and Alcinous shone. 
 
 The queen, on nearer view, the guest survey’d, 
 
 Robed in the garments her own hands had made; 
 
 Not without wonder seen. Then thus began. 
 
 Pier words addressing to the godlike man: 
 
 “Cam’st thou not hither, wondrous stranger! say. 
 
 From lands remote, and o’er a length of sea? 
 
 Tell, then, whence art thou? whence that princely air? 320 
 And robes like these, so recent and so fair?” 
 
 “Hard is the task, oh princess! you impose,” 
 
 Thus, sighing, spoke the man of many woes, 
 
 “The long, the mournful series to relate 
 Of all my sorrows, sent by Heaven and Fate! 
 
 Yet what you ask, attend. An island lies 
 Beyond these tracts, and under other skies, 
 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 125 
 
 Ogygia named, in Ocean’s watery arms, 
 
 Where dwells Calypso, dreadful in her charms! 
 
 Remote from gods or men she holds her reign, 330 
 
 Amid the terrors of the rolling main. 
 
 Me, only me, the hand of fortune bore, 
 
 Unbless’d! to tread that interdicted shore; 
 
 When Jove tremendous in the sable deeps 
 Launch’d his red lightning at our scatter’d ships; 
 
 Then all my fleet, and all my followers lost, 
 
 Sole on a plank, on boiling surges toss’d. 
 
 Heaven drove my wreck the Ogygian isle to find. 
 
 Full nine days floating to the wave and wind. 
 
 Met by the goddess there with open arms, 340 
 
 She bribed my stay with more than human charms; 
 
 Nay promised—vainly promised—to bestow 
 Immortal life, exempt from age and wo: 
 
 But all her blandishments successless prove. 
 
 To banish from my breast my country’s love. 
 
 I stay reluctant seven continued years. 
 
 And water her ambrosial couch with tears. 
 
 The eighth she voluntary moves to part. 
 
 Or urged by Jove, or her own changeful heart. 
 
 A raft was form’d to cross the surging sea; 350 
 
 Herself supplied the stores and rich array. 
 
 And gave the gales to waft me on the way. 
 
 In seventeen days appear’d your pleasing coast. 
 
 And woody mountains, half in vapours lost. 
 
 Joy touch’d my soul: my soul was joy’d in vain; 
 
 For angry Neptune roused the raging main; 
 
 The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar; 
 
 The splitting raft the furious tempest tore; 
 
 And storms vindictive intercept the shore. 
 
 Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I brave 360 
 
 With naked force, and shoot along the wave. 
 
 To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost, 
 
 The surge impel’d me on a craggy coast. 
 
 I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find 
 A river’s mouth impervious to the wind, 
 
126 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 
 
 And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood; 
 
 Then took the shelter of the neighbouring wood. 
 
 ’Twas night, and cover’d in the foliage deep, 
 
 Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep. 
 
 All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: 370 
 
 Aurora dawn’d and Phoebus shined in vain; 
 
 Nor, till oblique he sloped his evening ray. 
 
 Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. 
 
 Then female voices from the shore I heard: 
 
 A maid amidst them, goddess-like appear’d; 
 
 To her I sued, she pitied my distress; 
 
 Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. 
 
 Who from such youth could hope considerate care? 
 
 In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare! 
 
 She gave me life, relieved with just supplies . 380 
 
 My wants, and lent these robes that strike your eyes. 
 This is the truth: and, oh, ye powers on high! 
 
 Forbid that want should sink me to a lie.” 
 
 To this the king: “Our daughter but express’d 
 Her cares imperfect to our godlike guest. 
 
 Suppliant to her, since first he chose to pray, 
 
 Why not herself did she conduct the way. 
 
 And with her handmaids to our court convey?” 
 
 “Hero and king!” Ulysses thus replied, 
 
 “Nor blame her faultless, nor suspect of pride: 390 
 
 She bade me follow in th’ attendant train; 
 
 But fear and reverence did my steps detain. 
 
 Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind: 
 
 Man’s of a jealous and mistaking kind.” 
 
 “Far from my soul,” he cried, “the gods efface 
 All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base I 
 Whate’er is honest, stranger, I approve. 
 
 And would to Phoebus, Pallas, and to Jove, 
 
 Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one, 
 
 Nor thou unwilling to be call’d my son. 
 
 In such alliance could’st thou wish to join, 
 
 A palace stoi-ed with treasures should be thine. 
 
 400 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VII. 127 
 
 But, if reluctant, who shall force thy stay? 
 
 Jove bids to set the stranger on his way, 
 
 And ships shall wait thee with the morning ray. 
 
 Till then, let slumber close thy careful eyes; 
 
 The wakeful mariners shall watch the skies. 
 
 And seize the moment when the breezes rise: 
 
 Then gently waft thee to the pleasing shore. 
 
 Where thy soul rests, and labour is no more. 410 
 
 Far as Euboea though thy country lay. 
 
 Our ships with ease transport thee in a day. 
 
 Thither of old, earth’s giant-son* to view. 
 
 On wings of winds with Rhadamanth they flew; 
 
 This land, from whence their morning course begun. 
 
 Saw them returning with the setting sun. 
 
 Your eyes shall witness and confirm my tale, 
 
 Our youth how dextrous, and how fleet our sail. 
 
 When justly timed with equal sweep they row. 
 
 And ocean whitens in long tracks below.” 420 
 
 Thus he. No word th’ experienced man replies. 
 
 But thus to Heaven (and heavenward lifts his eyes): 
 
 “Oh Jove! oh father! what the king accords. 
 
 Do thou make perfect! sacred be his words! 
 
 Wide o’er the world Alcinoiis glory shine! 
 
 Let fame be his, and, ah! my country mine!” 
 
 Meantime, Aret^, for the hour of rest. 
 
 Ordains the fleecy couch and covering vest; 
 
 Bids her fair train the purple quilts prepare. 
 
 And the thick carpets spread with busy care. , 430 
 
 With torches blazing in their hands they pass’d. 
 
 And finish’d all their queen’s command with haste; 
 
 Then gave the signal to the willing guest: 
 
 He rose with pleasure, and retired to rest. 
 
 There, soft-extended to the murmuring sound 
 Of the high porch, Ulysses sleeps profound! 
 
 Within, released from cares, Alcinoiis lies: 
 
 And fast beside were closed Arete’s eyes. 
 
 * Tityus. 
 
BOOK VIII. 
 
 Entertainments given to Ulysses. 
 
 Argument. —Alcinoiis calls a council, in which it is resolved to transport 
 Ulysses into his country. After which, splendid entertainments are made, 
 where the celebrated musician and poet Demodocus plays and sing's to the 
 g'uests. They next proceed to the g'ames,—the race, the wrestling", the 
 discus, &c.—where Ulysses casts a prodig-ious length, to the admiration 
 of all the spectators. They return again to the banquet, and Demodocus 
 sings the loves of Mars and Venus. Ulysses, after a compliment to the 
 poet, desires him to sing the introduction of the wooden horse into Troyj 
 . which subject provoking his tears, Alcinoiis inquires of his guest his name, 
 parentage, and fortunes. 
 
 Now fair Aurora lifts her golden ray, 
 
 And all the ruddy orient flames with day: 
 
 Alcinoiis, and the chief, with dawning light. 
 
 Rose instant from the slumbers of the night! 
 
 Then to the council-seat they bend their way. 
 
 And fill the shining thrones along the bay. 
 
 Meanwhile, Minerva, in her guardian care. 
 
 Shoots from the starry vault through fields of air; 
 
 In form a herald of the king, she "flies 
 From peer to peer, and thus incessant cries: 10 
 
 “Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia’s states. 
 
 The king in council your attendance waits; 
 
 A prince of grace divine your aid implores, 
 
 O’er unknown seas arrived from unknown shores.” 
 
 She spoke; and sudden with tumultuous sounds 
 Of thronging multitudes the shore rebounds: 
 
 At once the seats they fill; and every eye 
 Gazed, as before some brother of the sky. 
 
 Pallas with grace divine his form improves. 
 
 More high he treads, and more enlarged he moves; 20 
 
 She sheds celestial bloom, regard to draw, 
 
 And gives a dignity of mien to awe: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 129 
 
 With strength the future prize of fame to play 
 And gather all the honours of the day. 
 
 Then from his glittering throne Alcinoiis rose: 
 “Attend/' he cried, “while we our will disclose. 
 
 Your present aid this godlike stranger craves, 
 
 Toss’d by rude tempest through a war of waves: 
 
 Perhaps from realms that view the rising day. 
 
 Or nations subject to the western ray. 30 
 
 Then grant, what here all sons of wo obtain; 
 
 (For here affliction never pleads in vain:) 
 
 Be chosen youths prepared, expert to try 
 The vast profound, and bid the vessel fly; 
 
 Launch the tall bark, and order every oar; 
 
 Then in our court indulge the genial hour: 
 
 Instant, you sailors, to this task attend; 
 
 'Swift to the palace, all ye peers, ascend; 
 
 Let none to strangers honours due disclaim: 
 
 Be there Demodocus, the bard of fame, 40 
 
 Taught by the gods to please, when high he sings 
 The vocal lay, responsive to the strings.” 
 
 Thus spoke the prince: th’ attending peers obey; 
 
 In state they move; Alcinoiis leads the way: 
 
 Swift to Demodocus the herald flies. 
 
 At once the sailors to their charge arise; 
 
 They launch the vessel, and unfurl the sails. 
 
 And stretch the swelling canvas to the gales; 
 
 Then to the palace move: a gathering throng. 
 
 Youth and white age, tumultuous pour along. 50 
 
 Now all accesses to the dome are fill’d; 
 
 Eight boars, the choicest of the herd, are kill’d! 
 
 Two beeves, twelve fatlings, from the flock they bring 
 To crown the feast; so wills the bounteous king. 
 
 The herald now arrives, and guides along 
 The sacred master of celestial song: 
 
 Dear to the Muse I who gave his days to flow 
 With mighty blessings, mix’d with mighty wo; 
 
 With clouds of darkness quench’d his visual ray. 
 
 But gave him skill to raise the lofty lay. 
 
 6* I 
 
 60 
 
130 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 High on a radiant throne sublime in state, 
 
 Encircled by huge multitudes, he sate: 
 
 With silver shone the throne: his lyre well strung 
 To rapturous sounds, at hand Pontinus hung: 
 
 Before his seat a polish’d table shines. 
 
 And a full goblet foams with generous wines; 
 
 His food a herald bore: and now they fed; 
 
 And now the rage of craving hunger fled. 
 
 Then, fired by all the Muse, aloud he sings 
 The mighty deeds of demi-gods and kings: 
 
 From that fierce wrath the noble song arose. 
 
 That made Ulysses and Achilles foes; 
 
 How o’er the feast they doom the fall of Troy: 
 
 The stern debate Atrides hears with joy: 
 
 For Heaven foretold the contest, when he trod 
 The marble threshold of the Delphic god. 
 
 Curious to learn the counsels of the sky. 
 
 E’er yet he loosed the rage of war on Troy. 
 
 Touch’d at the song, Ulysses straight resign’d 
 To soft affliction all his manly mind: 
 
 Before his eyes the purple vest he drew, 
 
 Industrious to conceal the falling dew: 
 
 But when the music paused, he ceased to shed 
 The flowing tear, and raised his drooping head; 
 And, lifting to the gods a goblet crown’d. 
 
 He pour’d a pure libation to the ground. 
 
 Transported with the song, the listening train 
 Again with loud applause demand the strain: 
 
 Again Ulysses veil’d his pensive head. 
 
 Again unmann’d, a shower of sorrow shed; 
 Conceal’d he wept: the king observed alone 
 The silent tear, and heard the secret groan; 
 
 Then to the bard aloud: “Oh, cease to sing; 
 
 Dumb be thy voice, and mute th’ harmonious string 
 Enough the feast has pleased, enough the power 
 Of heavenly song has crown’d the genial hour! 
 Incessant in the games your strength display. 
 Contest, ye brave, the honours of the day; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIIH 
 
 That, pleased, th’ admiring stranger may proclaim 
 In distant regions the Phaeacian fame: 
 
 None wield the gauntlet with so dire a sway. 
 
 Or swifter in the race devour the way; 
 
 None in the leap spring with so strong a bound. 
 Or firmer, in the wrestling, press the ground.” 
 
 Thus spoke the king: th’ attending peers obey; 
 In state they move, Alcinous leads the way: 
 
 His golden lyre Demodocus unstrung. 
 
 High on a column in the palace hung; 
 
 And, guided by a herald’s guardian cares. 
 
 Majestic to the lists of fame repairs. 
 
 Now swarms the populace: a countless throng. 
 Youth and hoar age; and man drives man along. 
 The games begin: ambitious of the prize, 
 Acroneus, Thoon, and Eretmeus rise; 
 
 The prize Ocyalus and Prymneus claim, 
 
 Anchialus and Pontius, chiefs of fame. 
 
 There Proreus, Neates, Eratreus, appear. 
 
 And famed Amphialaus, Polyneus’ heir ; 
 
 Euryalus like Mars terrific rose. 
 
 When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes; 
 Naubolides with grace unequal’d shone. 
 
 Or equafd by Laodamas alone. 
 
 With these came forth Ambasineus the strong; 
 And three brave sons, from great Alcinous sprung. 
 
 Ranged in a line the ready racers stand. 
 
 Start from the goal, and vanish o’er the strand: 
 Swift as on wings of wind upborne they fly. 
 
 And drifts of rising dust involve the sky. 
 
 Before the rest, what space the hinds allow 
 Between the mule and ox, from plough to plough, 
 Clytonous sprung: he wing’d the rapid way. 
 
 And bore th’ unrival’d honours of the day. 
 
 With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers join: 
 The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine. 
 
 Amphialaus sprung forward with a bound, 
 Superior in the leap, a length of ground. 
 
132 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 From Eratreus’ strong arm the discus flies, 
 
 And sings with unmatch’d force along the skies. 
 
 And Laodam whirls high, with dreadful sway. 
 
 The gloves of death, victorious in the fray. 140 
 
 While thus the peerage in the games contends. 
 
 In act to speak, Laodamas ascends: 
 
 “Oh, friends!” he cries, “the stranger seems well skill’d 
 To try th’ illustrious labours of the field: 
 
 I deem him brave: then grant the brave man’s claim; 
 Invite the hero to his share of fame. 
 
 What nervous arms he boasts I how firm his tread I 
 His limbs how turn’d! how broad his shoulders spread I 
 By age unbroke!—but all-consuming care 
 Destroys perhaps the strength that time would spare: 
 
 Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms! 150 
 
 Man must decay, when man contends with storms.” 
 
 “Well hast thou spoke,” Euryalus replies: 
 
 “ Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise.” 
 
 Swift at the word, advancing from the crowd. 
 
 He made obeisance, and thus spoke aloud: 
 
 “Vouchsafes the reverend stranger to display 
 His manly worth, and share the glorious day? 
 
 Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims 
 
 Expert to conquer in the solemn games. 160 
 
 To fame arise! for what more fame can yield 
 
 Than the swift race, or conflict in the field? 
 
 Steal from corroding care one transient day. 
 
 To glory give the space thou hast to stay; 
 
 Short is the time, and, lo! even now the gales 
 Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails.” 
 
 To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply: 
 
 “ Ah! why th’ ill-suiting pastime must I try ? 
 
 To gloomy care my thoughts alone are free: 
 
 Ill the gay sports with troubled hearts agree: 170 
 
 Sad from my natal hour my days have ran, 
 
 A much-afflicted, much-enduring man! 
 
 Who, suppliant to the king and peers, implores 
 A speedy voyage to his native shores.” 
 
THU ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 133 
 
 “Wide wanders, Laodam, thy erring tongue, 
 
 The sports of glory to the brave belong,” - 
 Retorts Euryalus: “he boasts no claim 
 Among the great, unlike the sons of Fame. 
 
 A wandering merchant, he frequents the main; 
 
 Some mean sea-farer in pursuit of gain; 180 
 
 Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill’d, 
 
 But dreads th’ athletic labours of the field.” 
 
 Incensed, Ulysses with a frown replies: * 
 
 “Oh, forward to proclaim thy soul unwise! 
 
 With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense; 
 
 Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense; 
 
 Here Heaven an elegance of form denies. 
 
 But wisdom the defect of form supplies: 
 
 This man with energy of thought controls. 
 
 And steals with modest violence our souls; 190 
 
 He speaks reserv’dly, but he speaks with force. 
 
 Nor can one word be changed but for a worse; 
 
 In public more than mortal he appears. 
 
 And, as he moves, the gazing crowd reveres. 
 
 While others, beauteous as th’ ethereal kind. 
 
 The nobler portion want, a knowing mind. 
 
 In outward show Heaven gives thee to excel. 
 
 But Heaven denies the praise of thinking well. 
 
 Ill bear the brave a rude ungovern’d tongue. 
 
 And, youth, my generous soul resents the wrong: 200 
 
 Skill’d in heroic exercise, I claim 
 A post of honour with the sons of Fame. 
 
 Such was my boast while vigour crown’d my days; 
 
 Now care surrounds me, and my force decays; 
 
 Inured a melancholy part to bear. 
 
 In scenes of death, by tempest and by war. 
 
 Yet thus by woes impair’d, no more I waive 
 To prove the hero—slander stings the brave.” 
 
 Then striding forward with a furious bound. 
 
 He wrench’d a rocky fragment from the ground, 210 
 By far more ponderous, and more huge by far, 
 
 Than what Phceacia’s sons discharged in air. 
 
134 the odyssey, BOOK VIII. 
 
 Fierce from his arm th’ enormous load he flings; 
 Sonorous through the shaded air it sings; 
 
 Couch’d to the earth, tempestuous as it flies, 
 
 The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies. 
 Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round 
 Down-rushing, it upturns a hill of ground. 
 
 That instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud, 
 
 Fix’d a distinguish’d mark, and cried aloud: 
 
 “Ev’n he who, sightless, wants his visual ray. 
 May, by his touch alone, award the day: 
 
 Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound 
 Of every champion by a length of ground: 
 
 Securely bid the strongest of the train 
 Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain.” 
 
 She spoke; and momentary mounts the sky; 
 
 The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy; 
 
 Then thus aloud, (elate with decent pride,) 
 
 “ Rise, ye Phseacians! try your force,” he cried; 
 
 “If with this throw the strongest caster vie. 
 
 Still, further still, I bid the discus fly. 
 
 Stand forth, ye champions, who the gauntlet wield. 
 Or ye, the swiftest racers of the field! 
 
 Stand forth, ye wrestlers, who these pastimes grace! 
 I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race. 
 
 In such heroic games I yield to none. 
 
 Or yield to brave Laodamas alone: 
 
 Shall I with brave Laodamas contend? 
 
 A friend is sacred, and I style him friend. 
 Ungenerous were the man, and base of heart. 
 
 Who takes the kind, and pays th’ ungrateful part; 
 Chiefly the man, in foreign realms confined. 
 
 Base to his friend, to his own interest blind: 
 
 All, all your heroes, I this day defy; 
 
 Give me a man, that we our might may try. 
 
 Expert in every art, I boast the skill 
 To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill: 
 
 Should a whole host at once discharge the bow. 
 
 My well-aim’d shaft with death prevents the foe: 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
 240 
 
 250 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK Vlll. 
 
 Alone superior in the field of Troy, 
 
 Great Philoctetes taught the shaft to fly. 
 
 From all the sons of earth unrival’d praise 
 I justly claim; but yield to better days, 
 
 To those famed days when great Alcides rose. 
 
 And Eurytus, who bade the gods be foes: 
 
 (Vain Eurytus, whose art became his crime. 
 
 Swept from the earth, he perish’d in his prime; 
 
 Sudden th’ irremeable way he trod, 
 
 Who boldly durst defy the bowyer-god.) 
 
 In fighting fields as far the spear I throw 
 As flies an arrow from the well-drawn bow. 
 
 Sole in the race the contest I decline. 
 
 Stiff* are my weary joints, and I resign; 
 
 By storms and hunger worn: age well may fail, 
 
 VJ^hen storms and hunger both at once assail.” 
 
 Abash’d, the numbers hear the godlike man. 
 
 Till great Alcinoiis mildly thus began: 
 
 ‘‘Well hast thou spoke, and well thy generous tongue 
 With decent pride refutes a public wrong: 270 
 
 Warm are thy words, but warm without offence; 
 
 Fear only fools, secure in men of sense: 
 
 Thy worth is known. Then hear our country’s claim, 
 And bear to heroes our heroic fame: 
 
 In distant realms our glorious deeds display. 
 
 Repeat them frequent in the genial day; 
 
 When bless’d with ease thy woes and wanderings end, 
 Teach them thy consort, bid thy sons attend; 
 
 How loved of Jove, he crown’d our sires with praise, 
 How we, their offspring, dignify our race.— 280 
 
 Let other realms the deathful gauntlet wield. 
 
 Or boast the glories of th’ athletic field; 
 
 We in the course unrivafd speed display. 
 
 Or through cerulean billows plough the way; 
 
 To dress, to dance, to sing, our sole delight. 
 
 The feast or bath by day, and love by night: 
 
 Rise then, ye skill’d in measures; let him bear 
 Your fame to men that breathe a distant air; 
 
 135 
 
 260 
 
136 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 And faithful say, to you the powers belong 
 To race, to sail, to dance, to chant the song. 
 
 But, herald, to the palace swift repair. 
 
 And the soft lyre to grace our pastimes bear.” 
 
 Swift at the word, obedient to the king, 
 
 The herald flies the tuneful lyre to bring. 
 
 Up rose nine seniors, chosen to survey 
 The future games, the judges of the day. 
 
 With instant care they mark a spacious round. 
 
 And level for the dance th’ allotted ground; 
 
 The herald bears the lyre: intent to play. 
 
 The bard advancing meditates the lay. 
 
 Skill’d in the dance, tall youths, a blooming band. 
 Graceful before the heavenly minstrels stand: 
 Light-bounding from the earth, at once they rise. 
 Their feet half-viewless quiver in the skies: 
 
 Ulysses gazed, astonish’d to survey 
 
 The glancing splendours as their sandals play. 
 
 Meantime, the bard, alternate to the strings, 
 
 The loves of Mars and Cytherea sings; 
 
 How the stern god, enamour’d with her charms. 
 Clasped the gay, panting goddess in his arms. 
 
 By bribes seduced; and how the sun, whose eye 
 Views the broad heavens, disclosed the lawless joy. 
 Stung to the soul, indignant through the skies 
 To his black forge vindictive Vulcan flies: 
 
 Arrived, his sinewy arms incessant place 
 Th’ eternal anvil on the massy base. 
 
 A wondrous net he labours, to betray 
 The wanton lovers, as entwined they lay. 
 Indissolubly strong! Then instant bears 
 To his immortal dome the finish’d snares. • 
 
 Above, below, around, with art dispread. 
 
 The sure enclosure folds the genial bed; 
 
 Whose texture ev’n the search of gods deceives. 
 Thin £fs the filmy threads the spider weaves. 
 
 Then, as withdrawing from the starry bowers. 
 
 He feigns a journey to the Lemnian shores, 
 
 290 
 
 300 
 
 310 
 
 320 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 137 
 
 His favourite isle; observant Mars descries 
 His wish’d recess, and to the goddess flies; 
 
 He glows, he burns, the fair-hair’d queen of love 
 Descends, smooth gliding from the courts of Jove, 330 
 Gay blooming in full charms: her hand he press’d 
 With eager joy, and with a sigh address’d: 
 
 “Come, my beloved! and taste the soft delights: 
 
 Come; to repose the genial bed invites: 
 
 J hy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms. 
 
 Prefers his barbarous Sintians to thy arms 1” 
 
 Then, nothing loath, th’ enamoured fair he led, 
 
 And sunk transported on the conscious bed. 
 
 Down rush’d the toils, inwrapping as they lay. 
 
 The careless lovers in their wanton play: 340 
 
 In vain they strive; th entangling snares deny 
 (Inpxtricably firm) the power to fly. 
 
 Warn’d by the god who sheds the golden day. 
 
 Stern Vulcan homeward treads the starry way: 
 
 Arrived, he sees, he grieves, with rage he burns: 
 
 Full horrible he roars, his voice all heaven returns. 
 
 “O Jove!” he cries, “oh, all ye powers above! 
 
 See the lewd dalliance of the queen of love! 
 
 JVTe, awkward me, she scorns; and yields her charms 
 To that fair lecher, the strong god of arms. 350 
 
 If I am lame, that stain my natal hour 
 By fate imposed; such me my parent bore. 
 
 Why was I born? See how the wanton lies. 
 
 Oh, sight tormenting to a husband’s eyes! 
 
 But yet I trust, this once ev’n Mars would fly 
 His fair-one’s arms—he thinks her, once, too nigh. 
 
 But there remain, ye guilty, in my power. 
 
 Till Jove refunds his shameless daughter’s dower. 
 
 Too dear I prized a fair enchanting face: 
 
 Beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace.” 360 
 
 Meanwhile, the gods the dome of Vulcan throng; 
 
 Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along; 
 
 With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain; 
 
 But modesty withheld the goddess train. 
 
138 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 All heaven beholds, imprison’d as they lie, 
 
 And unextinguish’d laughter shakes the sky. 
 
 Then mutual, thus they spoke: “Behold, on wrong 
 Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong. 
 Dwells there a god on all th’ Olympian brow 
 More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow. 
 Yet Vulcan conquers, and the god of arms 
 Must pay the penalty for lawless charms. 
 
 Thus serious they: but he who gUds the skies, 
 
 The gay Apollo, thus to Hermes cries: 
 
 “Wouldst thou enchain’d like Mars, O Hermes, lie. 
 And bear the shame like Mars, to share the joyf’ 
 “Oh, envied shame!” the smiling youth rejoin’d; 
 “Add thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind; 
 Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze. 
 
 Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace.” 
 
 Loud laugh the rest, even Neptune laughs aloud, 
 Yet sues importunate to loose the god: 
 
 “And free,” he cries, “O Vulcan 1 free from shame 
 Thy captives; I insure the penal claim.” 
 
 “Will Neptune,” Vulcan then, “the faithless trust. 
 He suffers who gives surety for th’ unjust: 
 
 But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky, 
 
 To liberty restored, perfidious fiy: ^ 
 
 Say, wilt thou bear the mulct?”—He instant cries, 
 “The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies.” 
 
 To whom, appeased: “No more I urge delay; 
 When Neptune sues, my part is to obey.” 
 
 Then to the snares his force the god applies; 
 They burst; and Mars to Thrace indignant flies. 
 
 To the soft Cyprian shores the goddess moves. 
 
 To visit Paphos and her blooming groves. 
 
 Where to the power an hundred altars rise, 
 
 And breathing odours scent the balmy skies; 
 Conceal’d she bathes in consecrated bowers. 
 
 The Graces unguents shed, ambrosial showers, 
 iJnguents that charm the gods! she last assumes 
 Her wondrous robes; and the full goddess blooms. 
 
 370 
 
 380 
 
 390 
 
 400 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 139 
 
 Thus sung the bard; Ulysses hears with joy, 
 
 And loud applauses rend the vaulted sky. 
 
 Then to the sports his sons the king commands, 
 
 Each blooming youth before the monarch stands. 
 
 In dance unmatch’d! A wondrous ball is brought 
 (The work of Polypus, divinely wrought); 
 
 This youth with strength enormous bids it fly. 
 
 And bending backward whirls it to the sky; 410 
 
 His brother, springing with an active bound. 
 
 At distance intercepts it from the ground. 
 
 The ball dismiss’d, in dance they skim the strand. 
 
 Turn and return, and scarce imprint the sand: 
 
 Th’ assembly gazes with astonish’d eyes. 
 
 And sends in shouts applauses to the skies. 
 
 Then thus Ulysses: “Happy king, whose name 
 The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame! 
 
 In subjects happy! with surprise I gaze; 
 
 Thy praise was just: their skill transcends thy praise.” 420 
 Pleased with his people’s fame, the monarch hears. 
 
 And thus benevolent accosts the peers: 
 
 “ Since wisdom’s sacred guidance he pursues. 
 
 Give to the stranger-guest a stranger’s dues: 
 
 Twelve princes in our realm dominion share. 
 
 O’er whom supreme, imperial power I bear: 
 
 Bring gold, a pledge of love: a talent bring, . 
 
 A vest, a robe, and imitate your king. 
 
 Be swift to give; that he this night may share 
 The social feast of joy, with joy sincere. 430 
 
 And thou, Euryalus, redeem thy wrong; 
 
 A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue.” 
 
 Th’ assenting peers, obedient to the king. 
 
 In haste their heralds send the gifts to bring. 
 
 Then thus Euryalus: “O prince, whose sway 
 Rules this bless’d realm, repentant I obey! 
 
 Be his the sword, whose blade of brass displays 
 A ruddy gleam; whose hilt a silver blaze; 
 
 Whose ivory sheath, inwrought with curious pride, 
 
 Adds graceful terror to the wearer’s side.” 
 
 440 
 
140 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 He said; and to his hand the sword consign’d: 
 
 “And if” he cried, “my words affect thy mind, 
 
 Far from thy mind those words, ye whirlwinds, bear, 
 
 And scatter them, ye storms, in empty air! 
 
 Crown, oh, ye heavens! with joy his peaceful hours, 
 
 And grant him to his spouse and native shores!” 
 
 “And bless’d be thou, my friend!” Ulysses cries- 
 “Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies! 
 
 To thy calm hours continued peace afford. 
 
 And never, never may’st thou want this sword!” 450 
 He said; and o’er his shoulder flung the blade. 
 
 Now o’er the earth ascends the evening shade: 
 
 The precious gifts th’ illustrious heralds bear, 
 
 And to the court th’ embodied peers repair. 
 
 Before the queen Alcinoiis’ sons unfold 
 
 The vests, the robes, and heaps of shining gold; 
 
 Then to the radiant thrones they move in state: 
 
 Aloft, the king in pomp imperial sate. 
 
 Then to the queen: “Oh, partner of our reign! 
 
 Oh, sole beloved! command thy menial train 460 
 
 A polish’d chest and stately robes to bear. 
 
 And healing waters for the bath prepare; 
 
 That, bathed, our guest may bid his sorrows cease. 
 
 Hear the sweet song, and taste the feast in peace. 
 
 A bowl that flames with gold, of wondrous frame, 
 
 Ourself we give, memorial of our name; 
 
 To raise in offerings to almighty Jove, 
 
 And every god that treads the courts above.” 
 
 Instant the queen, observant of the king. 
 
 Commands her train a spacious vase to bring, 470 
 
 The spacious vase with ample streams suffice. 
 
 Heap high the wood, and bid the flames arise. 
 
 The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace. 
 
 The fuming waters bubble o’er the blaze. 
 
 Herself the chest prepares: in order roll’d 
 
 The robes, the vests are ranged, and heaps of gold: 
 
 And adding a rich dress inwrought with art, 
 
 A gift expressive of her bounteous heart. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 141 
 
 Thus spoke to Ithacus: “To guard with bands 
 
 Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands: 480 
 
 Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main. 
 
 The hand of rapine make our bounty vain.” 
 
 Then bending with full force, around he roll’d 
 A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold. 
 
 Closed with Circman art. A train attends 
 Around the bath; the bath the king ascends, 
 
 (Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour. 
 
 He sail’d ill-fated from Calypso’s bower;) 
 
 Where, happy as the gods that range the sky, 
 
 He feasted every sense, with every joy. 490 
 
 He bathes; the damsels, with officious toil, 
 
 Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil: 
 
 Then o’er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads. 
 
 And to the feast magnificently treads. 
 
 Full where the dome its shining valves expands, 
 
 Nausicaae blooming as a goddess stands; 
 
 With wondering eyes the hero she survey’d. 
 
 And graceful thus began the royal maid: 
 
 “Hail, godlike stranger! and when Heaven restores 
 To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores, 500 
 
 This ever grateful in remembrance bear. 
 
 To me thou owest, to me, the vital air.” 
 
 “Oh, royal maid!” Ulysses straight returns, 
 
 “Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns. 
 
 So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms 
 The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms,) 
 Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss’d. 
 
 To my dear country’s ever-pleasing coast. 
 
 As while the spirit in this bosom glows. 
 
 To thee, my goddess, I address my vows; 510 
 
 My life, thy gift I boast!”—He said, and sate 
 Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state. 
 
 Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares. 
 Portions the food, and each his portion shares. 
 
142 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 The bard a herald guides; the gazing throng 
 Pay low obeisance as he moves along: 
 
 Beneath a sculptured arch he sits enthroned, 
 
 The peers encircling form an awful round. 
 
 Then, from the chine, Ulysses carves with art 
 Delicious food, an honorary part: 520 
 
 “This let the master of the lyre receive, 
 
 A pledge of love! ’tis all a wretch can give. 
 
 Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies. 
 
 Who sacred honours to the bard denies? 
 
 The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind: 
 
 The Muse indulgent loves th’ harmonious kind.” 
 
 The herald to his hand the charge conveys, 
 
 Not fond of flattery, nor unpleased with praise. 
 
 When now the rage of hunger was allay’d. 
 
 Thus to the lyrist wise Ulysses said: 530 
 
 “Oh, more than man! thy soul the Muse inspires. 
 
 Or Phoebus animates with all his fires I 
 For who, by Phoebus uninform’d, could know 
 The wo of Greece, and sing so well the wo? 
 
 Just to the tale, as present at the fray. 
 
 Or taught the labours of the dreadful day: 
 
 The song recalls past horrors to my eyes. 
 
 And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise. 
 
 Once more harmonious strike the sounding string, 
 
 Th’ Epoean fabric, framed by Pallas, sing: 540 
 
 How stern Ulysses, furious to destroy. 
 
 With latent heroes sack’d imperial Troy. 
 
 If faithful thou record the tale of fame. 
 
 The god himself inspires thy breast with flame; 
 
 And mine sball be the task henceforth to raise 
 In every land thy monument of prase.” 
 
 Full of the god, he raised his lofty strain. 
 
 How the Greeks rush’d tumultuous to the main; 
 
 How blazing tents illumined half the skies, 
 
 While from the shores the winged navy flies: 
 
 550 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 143 
 
 How, ev’n in Ilion’s walls, in deathful bands. 
 
 Came the stern Greeks by Troy’s assisting hands: 
 
 All Troy up-heaved the steed; of differing mind. 
 
 Various the Trojans counsel’d; part consign’d 
 The monster to the sword, part sentence gave 
 To plunge it headlong in the whelming wave; 
 
 The unwise award to lodge it in the towers. 
 
 An offering sacred to th’ immortal powers; 
 
 The unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls. 
 
 And by the gods’ decree proud Ilion falls: 560 
 
 Destruction enters in the treacherous wood, 
 
 And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood. 
 
 He sung the Greeks stern-issuing from the steed. 
 
 How Ilion burns, how all her fathers bleed; 
 
 How to thy dome, Deiphobus! ascends 
 The Spartan king; how Ithacus attends, 
 
 (Horrid as Mars,) and how with dire alarms 
 He fights, subdues; for Pallas strings his arms. 
 
 Thus while he sung, Ulysses’ griefs renew. 
 
 Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew. 570 
 As some fond matron views in mortal fight 
 Her husband falling in his country’s right: 
 
 Frantic through clashing swords she runs, she flies, 
 
 As ghastly pale he groans, and faints, and dies; 
 
 Close to his breast she grovels on the ground, 
 
 And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound: 
 
 She cries, she shrieks; the fierce insulting foe 
 Relentless mocks her violence of wo: 
 
 To chains condemn’d, as wildly she deplores; 
 
 A widow, and a slave on foreign shores: 580 
 
 So from the sluices of Ulysses’ eyes 
 
 Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs; 
 
 Conceal’d he grieved: the king observed alone 
 The silent tear, and heard the secret groan; 
 
 Then to the bard aloud: “Oh, cease to sing. 
 
 Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string; 
 
144 
 
 TPIE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII. 
 
 To every note his tears responsive flow, 
 
 And his great heart heaves with tumultuous wo; 
 
 Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay, 
 
 And o’er the banquet every heart be gay: 590 
 
 This social right demands; for him the sails, 
 
 Floating in air, invite th’ impelling gales: 
 
 His are the gifts of love; the wise and good 
 Receive the stranger as a brother’s blood.— 
 
 But, friend, discover faithful what I crave; 
 
 Artful concealment ill becomes the brave: 
 
 Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore. 
 Imposed by parents in the natal hour? 
 
 (For from the natal hour distinctive names. 
 
 One common right the great and lowly claims;) 600 
 
 Say, from what city, from what regions toss’d. 
 
 And what inhabitants those regions boast? 
 
 So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign’d. 
 
 In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind: 
 
 No helm secures their course, no pilot guides: 
 
 Like man intelligent, they plough the tides. 
 
 Conscious of every coast, and every bay. 
 
 That lies beneath the sun’s all-seeing ray: 
 
 Though clouds and darkness veil th’ encumber’d sky, 
 
 Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly; 610 
 Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main, 
 The seas may roll, the tempests rage in vain: 
 
 Ev’n the stern god that o’er the waves presides. 
 
 Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides. 
 
 With fury burns; while careless they convey 
 Promiscuous every guest to every bay. 
 
 These ears have heard my royal sire disclose 
 A dreadful story, big with future woes. 
 
 How Neptune raged, and how, by his command, 
 
 Firm rooted in a surge a ship should stand 620 
 
 A monument of wrath; how mound on mound 
 Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK VIII 
 
 145 
 
 But this the gods may frustrate or fulfil, 
 
 As suits the purpose of th’ Eternal Will. 
 
 But say through what waste regions hast thou stray’d, 
 What customs noted, and what coasts survey’d; 
 
 Possess’d by wild barbarians fierce in arms. 
 
 Or men whose bosom tender pity warms? 
 
 Say why the fate of Troy awaked thy cares. 
 
 Why heaved thy bosom, and why flow’d thy tears? 630 
 Just are the ways of Heaven; from Heaven proceed 
 The woes of man; Heaven doom’d the Greeks to bleed, 
 A theme of future song! Say then if slain 
 Some dear loved brother press’d the Phrygian plain? 
 
 Or bled some friend, who bore a brother’s part. 
 
 And claim’d by merit, not by blood, the heart?” 
 
 7 K 
 
'1 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 The Adventures of the Cicons, Lotophagi, and Cyclops. 
 
 Argument. —Ulysses begins the relation of his adventures; how, after the 
 destruction of Troy, he with his companions made an incursion on the 
 Cicons, by whom they were repulsed; and, meeting with a storm, were 
 driven to the coast of Lotophagi. From thence they sailed to the land 
 of the Cyclops, whose manners and situation are particularly characterized. 
 The giant Polyphemus and his cave described; the usage Ulysses and his 
 companions met with there; and lastly, the method and artifice by which 
 he escaped. 
 
 Then thus Ulysses: “Thou whom first in sway, 
 
 As first in virtue, these thy realms obey: 
 
 How sweet the products of a peaceful reign! 
 
 The heaven-taught poet, and enchanting strain, 
 
 The well-fiird palace, the perpetual feast, 
 
 A land rejoicing, and a people bless’d! 
 
 How goodly seems it ever to employ j 
 
 Man’s social days in union and in joy! 
 
 The plenteous board high-heap’d with cates divine. 
 
 And o’er the foaming bowl the laughing wine. 10 
 
 Amid these joys, why seeks thy mind to know j 
 
 Th’ unhappy series of a wanderer’s wo? ‘ 
 
 Remembrance sad, whose image to review, i 
 
 Alas! must open all my wounds anew! \ 
 
 And, oh! what first, what last shall I relate, ^ 
 
 Of woes unnumber’d, sent by Heaven and Fate? j 
 
 Know first the man (though now a wretch distress’d) | 
 Who hopes thee, monarch, for his future guest. I 
 
 Behold Ulysses I no ignoble name, | 
 
 Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame. 20 f 
 My native soil is Ithaca the fair, 
 
 Where high Neritus waves his woods in air; | 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 147 
 
 Dulichlum, Sam4, and Zacynthus, crown’d 
 With shady mountains, spread their isles around: 
 
 (These to the north and night’s dark regions run, 
 
 Those to Aurora and the rising sun.) 
 
 Low lies our isle, yet bless’d in fruitful stores; 
 
 Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores; 
 
 And none, ah! none so lovely to my sight. 
 
 Of all the lands that heaven o’erspreads with light! 30 
 
 In vain Calypso long constrain’d my stay. 
 
 With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay; 
 
 With all her charms as vainly Circ^ strove. 
 
 And added magic to secure my love. 
 
 In pomps or joys, the palace or the grot, 
 
 My country’s image never was forgot, 
 
 My absent parents rose before my sight. 
 
 And distant lay contentment and delight. 
 
 “Hear then the woes which mighty Jove ordain’d 
 To wait my passage from the Trojan land. 40 
 
 The winds from Ilion to the Cicons’ shore. 
 
 Beneath cold Ismarus, our vessel bore. 
 
 We boldly landed on the hostile place. 
 
 And sack’d the city, and destroy’d the race; 
 
 Their wives made captive, their possessions shared, 
 
 And every soldier found a like reward. 
 
 I then advised to fly; not so the rest. 
 
 Who stay’d to revel, and prolong the feast: 
 
 The fatted sheep and sable bulls they slay. 
 
 And bowls flow round, and riot wastes the day. 50 
 
 Meantime, the Cicons to their holds retired. 
 
 Call on the Cicons, with new fury fired: 
 
 With early morn the gather’d country swarms. 
 
 And all the continent is bright with arms; 
 
 Thick as the budding leaves or rising flowers 
 ' O’erspread the land, when spring descends in showers: 
 
 All expert soldiers, skill’d on foot to dare, 
 
 I Or from the bounding courser urge the war. 
 
 Now fortune changes (so the Fates ordain): 
 
 ' Our hour was come to taste our share of pain. 60 
 
148 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Close at the ships the bloody fight began, 
 
 Wounded they wound, and man expires on man. 
 
 Long as the morning sun increasing bright 
 O’er heaven’s pure azure spread the growing light. 
 Promiscuous death the form of war confounds, 
 
 Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds; 
 
 But when his evening-wheels o’erhung the main, 
 
 Then conquest crown’d the fierce Ciconian train. 
 
 Six brave companions from each ship we lost. 
 
 The rest escaped in haste, and quit the coast. 70 
 
 With sails outspread we fly th’ unequal strife. 
 
 Sad for their loss, but joyful of our life: 
 
 Yet as we fled, our fellows’ rites we paid. 
 
 And thrice we call’d on each unhappy shade. 
 
 “Meanwhile, the god whose hand the thunder forms, 
 Drives clouds on clouds, and blackens heaven with storms: 
 Wide o’er the waste the rage of Boreas sweeps. 
 
 And night rush’d headlong on the shaded deeps. 
 
 Now here, now there, the giddy ships are borne. 
 
 And all the rattling shrouds in fragments torn. 80 
 
 We furl’d the sail, we plied the labouring oar, 
 
 Took down our masts, and row’d our ships to shore. 
 
 Two tedious days and two long nights we lay, 
 O’erwatch’d and batter’d in the naked bay; 
 
 But the third morning when Aurora brings, 
 
 We rear the masts, we spread the canvas wings; 
 Refresh’d, and careless on the deck reclined, 
 
 We sit, and trust the pilot and the wind. 
 
 Then to my native country had I sail’d; 
 
 But, the cape doubled, adverse winds prevail’d. 90 
 
 Strong was the tide, which, by the northern blast 
 Impel’d, our vessels on Cythera cast. 
 
 Nine days our fleet th’ uncertain tempest bore 
 Far in wide ocean, and from sight of shore; 
 
 The tenth we touch’d, by various errors toss’d. 
 
 The land of Lotus and the flowery coast. 
 
 We climb’d the beach, and springs of water found. 
 
 Then spread our hasty banquet on the ground. 
 
THE ODYSSBY, BOOK IX. 
 
 149 
 
 Three men were sent, deputed from the crew, 
 
 (A herald one,) the dubious coast to view, 100 
 
 And learn what habitants possess’d the place. 
 
 They went, and found a hospitable race: 
 
 Not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest. 
 
 They eat, they drink, and nature gives the feast; 
 
 The trees around them all their food produce; 
 
 Lotos, the name; divine, nectareous juice! 
 
 (Thence call’d Lotophagi;) 'which whoso tastes. 
 
 Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts. 
 
 Nor other home, nor other care intends. 
 
 But quits his house, his country, and his friends. 110 
 The three we sent, from off th’ enchanting ground 
 We dragg’d reluctant, and by force we bound. 
 
 The rest in haste forsook the pleasing shore. 
 
 Or, the charm tasted, had return’d no more. 
 
 Now placed in order on their banks, they sweep 
 The sea’s smooth face, and cleave the hoary deep; 
 
 With heavy hearts we labour through the tide. 
 
 To coasts unknown and oceans yet untried. 
 
 “The land of Cyclops first, a savage kind. 
 
 Nor tamed by manners, nor by laws confined; 120 
 
 Untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and sow; 
 
 They all their products to free nature owe. 
 
 The soil untill’d a ready harvest yields. 
 
 With wheat and barley wave the golden fields. 
 Spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour. 
 
 And Jove descends in each prolific shower. 
 
 By these no statutes and no rights are known. 
 
 No council held, no monarch fills the throne; 
 
 But high on hills, or airy cliffs they dwell. 
 
 Or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell. 130 
 
 Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care. 
 
 Heedless of others, to his own severe. 
 
 “Opposed to the Cyclopean coast, there lay 
 An isle, whose hills their subject fields survey; 
 
 Its name Lachcea, crown’d with many a grove. 
 
 Where savage goats through pathless thickets rove; 
 

 150 the odyssey, book IX. 
 
 No needy mortals here, with hunger bold, 
 
 Or wretched hunters through the wintry cold, 
 
 Pursue their flight; but leave them safe to bound 
 From hill to hill, o’er all the desert ground. 140 
 
 Nor knows the soil to feed the fleecy care. 
 
 Or feels the labours of the crooked share; 
 
 But, uninhabited, untilfd, unsown 
 
 It lies, and breeds the bleating goat alone. 
 
 For there no vessel with vermilion prore. 
 
 Or bark of traffic, glides from shore to shore; 
 
 The rugged race of savages, unskilfd 
 The seas to traverse, or the ships to build. 
 
 Gaze on the coast, nor cultivate the soil; 
 
 Unlearn’d in all th’ industrious arts of toil. 150 
 
 Yet here all products and all plants abound. 
 
 Sprung from the fruitful genius of the ground; 
 
 Fields waving high with heavy crops are seen. 
 
 And vines that flourish in eternal green. 
 
 Refreshing meads along the murmuring main. 
 
 And fountains streaming down the fruitful plain. 
 
 A port there is, enclosed on either side. 
 
 Where ships may rest, unanchor’d and untied; 
 
 Till the glad mariners incline to sail. 
 
 And the sea whitens with the rising gale. 160 
 
 High at its head, from out the cavern’d rock, 
 
 In living rills a gushing fountain broke: 
 
 Around it, and above, for ever green. 
 
 The bushing alders form’d a shady scene. 
 
 Hither some favouring god, beyond our thought. 
 
 Through all-surrounding shade our navy brought; 
 
 For gloomy night descended on the main. 
 
 Nor glimmer’d Phoebe in th’ ethereal plain: 
 
 But all unseen the clouded island lay. 
 
 And all unseen the surge and rolling sea, 170 
 
 Till safe we anchor’d in the shelter’d bay: 
 
 Our sails we gather’d, cast our cables o’er. 
 
 And slept secure along the sandy shore. 
 
 Soon as again the rosy morning shone. 
 
 Reveal’d the landscape and the scene unknown, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 151 
 
 With wonder seized, we view the pleasing ground, 
 
 And walk delighted, and expatiate round. 
 
 Roused by the woodland nymphs at early dawn. 
 
 The mountain-goats came bounding o’er the lawn: 
 
 In haste our fellows to the ships repair, 180 
 
 For arms and weapons of the sylvan war; 
 
 Straight in three squadrons all our crew we part, 
 
 And bend the bow, or wing the missile dart; 
 
 The bounteous gods afford a copious prey, 
 
 And nine fat goats each vessel bears away: 
 
 The royal bark had ten. Our ships complete 
 We thus supplied (for twelve were all the fleet). 
 
 Here, till the setting sun roll’d down the light. 
 
 We sat indulging in the genial rite: 
 
 Nor wines were wanting; those from ample jars 190 
 We drain’d, the prize of our Ciconian wars. 
 
 The land of Cyclops lay in prospect near; 
 
 The voice of goats and bleating flocks we hear. 
 
 And from their mountains rising smokes appear. 
 
 Now sunk the sun, and darkness cover’d o’er 
 The face of things: along the sea-beat shore 
 Satiate we slept: but when the sacred dawn 
 Arising glitter’d o’er the dewy lawn, 
 
 I call’d my fellows, and these words address’d: 
 
 “‘My dear associates, here indulge your rest, 200 
 While, with my single ship, adventurous, I 
 Go forth the manners of yon men to try; 
 
 Whether a race unjust, of barbarous might. 
 
 Rude, and unconscious of a stranger’s right; 
 
 Or such who harbour pity in their breast. 
 
 Revere the gods, and succour the distress’d.’ 
 
 This said, I climb’d my vessel’s lofty side; 
 
 My train obey’d me, and the ship untied. 
 
 In order seated on their banks, they sweep 
 
 Neptune’s smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep. 210 
 
 When to the nearest verge of land we drew. 
 
 Fast by the sea a lonely cave we view. 
 
 High, and with darkening laurels cover’d o er, 
 
 W^here sheep and goats lay slumbering round the shore. 
 
152 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Near this, a fence of marble from the rock, 
 
 Brown with o’er-arching pine and spreading oak. 
 
 A giant shepherd here his flock maintains 
 Far from the rest, and solitary reigns, 
 
 In shelter thick of horrid shade reclined; 
 
 And gloomy mischiefs labour in his mind. 220 
 
 'A form enormous! far unlike the race 
 Of human birth, in stature or in face; 
 
 As some lone mountain’s monstrous growth he stood. 
 Crown d with rough thickets, and a nodding wood. 
 
 I left my vessel at the point of land, 
 
 And close to guard it, gave our crew command: 
 
 With only twelve, the boldest and the best, 
 
 I seek th’ adventure, and forsake the rest: 
 
 Then took a goatskin fill’d with precious wine, 
 
 The gift of Maron of Evanthes’ line, 230 
 
 (The priest of Phoebus at the Ismarian shrine). 
 
 In sacred shade his honour’d mansion stood. 
 
 Amidst Apollo’s consecrated wood ; 
 
 Him, and his house. Heaven moved my mind to save, 
 
 And costly presents in return he gave; 
 
 Seven golden talents to perfection wrought, 
 
 A silver bowl that held a copious draught. 
 
 And twelve large vessels of unmingled wine. 
 
 Mellifluous, undecaying, and divine! 
 
 Which now, some ages from his race conceal’d, 240 
 The hoary sire in gratitude reveal’d. 
 
 Such was the wine; to quench whose fervent steam 
 Scarce twenty measures from the living stream 
 To cool one cup sufficed: the goblet crown’d 
 Breathed aromatic fragrancies around. 
 
 Of this an ample vase we heaved aboard. 
 
 And brought another with provision stored. 
 
 M!y soul foreboded I should find the bower 
 Of some fell monster, fierce with barbarous power. 
 
 Some rustic wretch, who lived in Heaven’s despite, 250 
 Contemning laws, and trampling on the right. 
 
 The cave we found, but vacant all within, 
 
 (His flock the giant tended on the green:) 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 153 
 
 But round the grot we gaze; and all we view, 
 
 In order ranged, our admiration drew: 
 
 The bending shelves with loads of cheeses press’d. 
 
 The folded flocks, each separate from the rest; 
 
 (The larger here, and there the lesser lambs. 
 
 The new-fall’n young here bleating for their dams; 
 
 The kid distinguish’d from the lambkin lies:) 260 
 
 The cavern echoes with responsive cries. 
 
 Capacious chargers all around were laid. 
 
 Full pails, and vessels of the milking trade. 
 
 With fresh provisions hence our fleet to store 
 My friends advised me, and to quit the shore; 
 
 Or drive a flock of sheep and goats away, 
 
 Consult our safety, and put off to sea. 
 
 Their wholesome counsel rashly I declined. 
 
 Curious to view the man of monstrous kind. 
 
 And try what social rites a savage lends: 270 
 
 Dire rites, alas! and fatal to my friends! 
 
 Then first a fire we kindle, and prepare 
 For his return with sacrifice and prayer. 
 
 The loaded shelves afford us full repast; 
 
 We sit expecting. Lo! he comes at last. 
 
 Near half a forest on his back he bore. 
 
 And cast the ponderous burden at the door. 
 
 It thunder’d as it fell. We trembled then. 
 
 And sought the deep recesses of the den. 
 
 Now driven before him through the arching rock, 280 
 Came tumbling, heaps on heaps, th’ unnumber’d flock; 
 Big-udder’d ewes, and goats of female kind 
 (The males were penn’d in outward courts behind); 
 
 Then heaved on high, a rock’s enormous weight 
 To the cave’s mouth he roll’d, and closed the gate: 
 (Scarce twenty four-wheel’d cars, compact and strong, 
 The massy load could bear, or roll along.) 
 
 He next betakes him to his evening cares. 
 
 And, sitting down, to milk his flocks prepares; 
 
 Of half their udders eases first the dams, 290 
 
 Then to the mothers’ teats submits the lambs. 
 
 7 * 
 
154 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Half the white stream to hardening cheese he press’d, . « 
 And high in wicker baskets heap’d: the rest, >' 
 
 Reserved in bowls, supplied his nightly feast. ‘ ' 
 
 His labour done, he fired the pile, that gave >» 
 
 A sudden blaze, and lighted all the cave. 
 
 We stand discover’d by the rising fires; 
 
 Askance the giant glares, and thus inquires: 
 
 “‘What are ye, guests? on what adventure, say. 
 
 Thus far ye wander through the watery way? 300 
 
 Pirates, perhaps, who seek through seas unknown 
 The lives of others, and expose your own?’ 
 
 “His voice like thunder through the cavern sounds: 
 
 My bold companions thrilling fear confounds. 
 
 Appall’d at sight of more than mortal man; 
 
 At length, with heart recover’d, I began: 
 
 “‘From Troy’s famed fields, sad wanderers o’er the main. 
 Behold the relics of the Grecian train! 
 
 Through various seas, by various perils toss’d. 
 
 And forced by storms, unwilling, on your coast; 310 
 Far from our destined course and native land. 
 
 Such was our fate, and such high Jove’s command: 
 
 Nor what we are befits us to disclaim, 
 
 Atrides’ friends (in arms a mighty name,) 
 
 Who taught proud Troy and all her sons to bow, 
 
 Victors of late, but humble suppliants now! 
 
 Low at thy knee thy succour we implore; 
 
 Respect us, human, and relieve us, poor. 
 
 At least some hospitable gift bestow; 
 
 ’Tis what the happy to th’ unhappy owe: 320 
 
 ’Tis what the gods require: those gods revere. 
 
 The poor and stranger are their constant care; 
 
 To Jove their cause, and their revenge belongs. 
 
 He wanders with them, and he feels their wrongs.’ 
 
 “‘Fools that ye are!’ (the savage thus replies, 
 
 His inward fury blazing at his eyes,) 
 
 ‘Or strangers, distant far from our abodes. 
 
 To bid me reverence or regard the gods. 
 
 Know then, we Cyclops are a race above 
 Those air-bred people, and their goat-nursed Jove; 
 
 330 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 155 
 
 And learn, our power proceeds with thee and thine, 
 
 Not as he wills, but as ourselves incline. 
 
 But answer, the good ship that brought ye o’er, 
 
 Where lies she anchor’d? near or off the shore?’ 
 
 “Thus he. His meditated fraud I find 
 (Versed in the turns of various human-kind); 
 
 And, cautious, thus: ‘Against a dreadful rock. 
 
 Fast by your shore, the gallant vessel broke. 
 
 Scarce with these few I ’scaped of all my train. 
 
 Whom angry Neptune whelm’d beneath the main; 340 
 The scatter’d wreck the winds blew back again.’ 
 
 “He answer’d with his deed: his bloody hand 
 Snatch’d two, unhappy! of my martial band: 
 
 And dash’d like dogs against the stony floor; 
 
 The pavement swims with brains and mingled gore; 
 
 Torn limb from limb, he spreads his horrid feast. 
 
 And fierce devours it like a mountain beast: 
 
 He sucks the marrow, and the blood he drains. 
 
 Nor entrails, flesh, nor solid bone remains. 
 
 We see the death from which we cannot move, 350 
 And humbled groan beneath the hand of Jove. 
 
 His ample maw with human carnage fill’d, 
 
 A milky deluge next the giant swill’d; 
 
 Then stretch’d in length o’er half the cavern’d rock. 
 
 Lay senseless, and supine, amidst the flock. 
 
 To seize the time, and with a sudden wound 
 To fix the slumbering monster to the ground. 
 
 My soul impels me: and in act I stand 
 To draw the sword; but wisdom held my hand; 
 
 A deed so rash had finish’d all our fate; 360 
 
 No mortal forces from the lofty gate 
 
 Could roll the rock. In hopeless grief we lay. 
 
 And sigh, expecting the return of day. 
 
 Now did the rosy-finger’d morn arise. 
 
 And shed her sacred light along the skies: 
 
 He wakes, he lights the fire, he milks the dams, 
 
 And to the mothers’ teats submits the lambs. 
 
 ' The task thus finish’d of his morning hours, 
 
 ' T wo more he snatches, murders, and devours. 
 
156 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Then pleased, and whistling, drives his flock before; 370 
 Removes the rocky mountain from the door. 
 
 And shuts again: with equal ease disposed. 
 
 As a light quiver’s lid is oped and closed. 
 
 His giant voice the echoing region fills; 
 
 His flocks, obedient, spread o’er all the hills. 
 
 “Thus left behind, even in the last despair, 
 
 I thought, devised, and Pallas heard my prayer. 
 
 Revenge, and doubt, and caution work’d my breast; 
 
 But this of many counsels seem’d the best: 
 
 The monster’s club within the cave I spied, 380 
 
 A tree of stateliest growth, and yet undried. 
 
 Green from the wood; of height and bulk so vast. 
 
 The largest ship might claim it for a mast. 
 
 This, shorten’d of its top, I gave my train 
 A fathom’s length, to shape it and to plane; 
 
 The narrower end I sharpen’d to a spire; 
 
 Whose point we harden’d with the force of fire. 
 
 And hid it in. the dust that strew’d the cave. 
 
 Then to my few companions, bold and brave. 
 
 Proposed who first the venturous deed should try. 
 
 In the broad orbit of his monstrous eye 390 
 
 To plunge the brand, and twirl the pointed wood. 
 
 When slumber next should tame the man of blood; 
 
 Just as I wish’d, the lots were cast on four: 
 
 Myself the fifth. We stand and wait the hour 
 He comes with evening: All his fleecy flock 
 Before him march, and pour into the rock: 
 
 Not one, or male or female, staid behind; 
 
 (So fortune chanced, or so some god design’d:) 
 
 Then heaving high the stone’s unwieldy weight, 400 
 He roll d it on the cave, and closed the gate. 
 
 First down he sits, to milk the woolly dams. 
 
 And then permits their udder to the lambs. ’ 
 
 Next seized two wretches more, and headlong cast. 
 
 Brain d on the rock; his second dire repast. 
 
 I then approach’d him, reeking with their gore. 
 
 And held the brimming goblet foaming o’er: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 157 
 
 “‘Cyclop, since human flesh has been thy feast, 
 
 Now drain this goblet, potent to digest; 
 
 Know hence what treasures in our ship we lost, 410 
 And what rich liquors other climates boast. 
 
 We to thy shore the precious freight shall bear. 
 
 If home thou send us, and vouchsafe to spare. 
 
 But, oh! thus furious, thirsting thus for gore. 
 
 The sons of men shall ne’er approach thy shore, 
 
 And never shalt thou taste this nectar more.’ 
 
 “He heard, he took, and pouring down his throat. 
 Delighted, swill’d the large luxurious draught. 
 
 “‘More! give me more,’ he cried; ‘the boon be thine, 
 Whoe’er thou art that bear’st celestial wine; 420 
 
 Declare thy name; not mortal is this juice, 
 
 Such as th’ unbless’d Cyclopean climes produce; 
 
 (Though sure our vine the largest cluster yields. 
 
 And Jove’s scorn’d thunder serves to drench our fields;) 
 But this descended from the bless’d abodes, 
 
 A rill of nectar, streaming from the gods.’ 
 
 “He said, and greedy grasped the heady bowl. 
 
 Thrice drain’d, and pour’d the deluge on his soul. 
 
 His sense lay cover’d with the dozy fume. 
 
 While thus my fraudful speech I reassume: 430 
 
 “‘Thy promised boon, O Cyclop! now I claim. 
 
 And plead my title; Noman is my name. 
 
 By that distinguish’d from my tender years, 
 
 ’Tis what my parents call me, and my peers.’ 
 
 “The giant then: ‘Our promised grace receive. 
 
 The hospitable boon we mean to give: 
 
 When all thy wretched crew have felt my power. 
 
 Noman shall be the last I will devour.’ 
 
 “He said: then, nodding with the fumes of wine. 
 Dropp’d his huge head, and snoring lay supine. 440 
 
 His neck obliquely o’er his shoulders hung. 
 
 Press’d with the weight of sleep that tames the strong; 
 There belched the mingled streams of wine and blood. 
 And human flesh, his indigested food. 
 
 Sudden I stir the embers, and inspire 
 With animating breath the seeds of fire; 
 
158 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Each drooping spirit with bold words repair, 
 
 And urge my train the dreadful deed to dare. 
 
 The stake now glow’d beneath the burning bed 
 (Green as it was), and sparkled fiery red; 450 
 
 Then forth the vengeful instrument I bring; 
 
 With beating hearts my fellows form a ring. 
 
 Urged by some present god, they swift let fall 
 The pointed torment on his visual ball. 
 
 Myself above them from a rising ground 
 
 Guide the sharp stake, and twirl it round and round. 
 
 As when a shipwright stands his workmen o’er, 
 
 Who ply the wimble some huge beam to bore; 
 
 Urged on all hands, it nimbly spins about. 
 
 The grain deep-piercing till it scoops it out: 460 
 
 In his broad eye so whirls the fiery wood; 
 
 From the pierced pupil spouts the boiling blood; 
 
 Singed are his brows: the scorching lids grow black: 
 The jelly bubbles, and the fibres crack. 
 
 And as when armourers temper in the ford 
 The keen-edged pole-axe, or the shining sword. 
 
 The red-hot metal hisses in the lake. 
 
 Thus in his eye-ball hiss’d the plunging stake. 
 
 He sends a dreadful groan, the rocks around 
 Through all their inmost winding caves resound. 470 
 Scared, we receded. Forth with frantic hand. 
 
 He tore, and dashed on earth the gory brand; 
 
 Then calls the Cyclops, all that round him dwell. 
 
 With voice like thunder, and a direful yell. 
 
 From all their dens, the one-eyed race repair. 
 
 From rifted rocks, and mountains bleak in air. 
 
 All haste assembled, at his well-known roar. 
 
 Inquire the cause, and crowd the cavern-door. 
 
 “‘What hurts thee, Polypheme? what strange afli’ight 
 Thus breaks our slumbers, and disturbs the night? 480 
 Does any mortal in th’ unguarded hour 
 Of sleep, oppress thee, or by fraud or power? 
 
 Or thieves insidious thy fair flocks surprise?’ 
 
 Thus they. The Cyclop from his den replies: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 159 
 
 “‘Friends, Noman kills me; Noman, in the hour 
 Of sleep, oppresses me with fraudful power.’ 
 
 “‘If no man hurt thee, but the hand divine 
 Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign: 
 
 To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray,’ 
 
 The brethren cried, and instant strode away. 490 
 
 “Joy touch’d my secret soul and conscious heart. 
 Pleased with th’ effect of conduct and of art. 
 
 Meantime, the Cyclop, raging with his wound. 
 
 Spreads his wid^ arms, and searches round and round; 
 
 At last, the stone removing from the gate. 
 
 With hands extended in the midst he sate: 
 
 And search’d each passing sheep, and felt it o’er. 
 
 Secure to seize us ere we reach’d the door. 
 
 (Such as his shallow wit he deem’d was mine;) 
 
 But secret I resolved the deep design; 500 
 
 ’Twas for our lives my labouring bosom wrought; 
 
 Each scheme I turn’d, and sharpen’d every thought; 
 
 This way and that I cast to save my friends, 
 
 Till one resolve my varying counsel ends. 
 
 “Strong were the rams, with native purple fair. 
 
 Well fed, and largest of the fleecy care. 
 
 These three and three, with ozier bands we tied, 
 
 (The twining bands the Cyclop’s bed supplied;) 
 
 The midmost bore a man, the outward two 
 Secured each side: so bound we all the crew. 510 
 
 One ram remain’d, the leader of the flock; 
 
 In his deep fleece my grasping hands I lock. 
 
 And fast beneath, in woolly curls inwove. 
 
 There cling implicit, and confide in Jove. 
 
 When rosy morning glimmer’d o’er the dales. 
 
 He drove to pasture all the lusty males: 
 
 The ewes still folded, with distended thighs. 
 
 Unmilked, lay bleating in distressful cries. 
 
 But heedless of those cares, with anguish stung. 
 
 He felt their fleeces as they pass’d along, 
 
 (Fool that he was!) and let them safely go. 
 
 All unsuspecting of their freight below. 
 
 520 
 
160 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 “The master-ram at last approach’d the gate, 
 
 Charged with his wool, and with Ulysses’ fate. 
 
 Him while he pass’d, the monster blind bespoke: 
 
 “‘What makes my ram the lag of all the flock? 
 
 First thou wert wont to crop the flowery mead, 
 
 First to the field and river’s bank to lead, 
 
 And first with stately step at evening hour 
 
 Thy fleecy fellows usher to their bower. 530 
 
 Now far the last, with pensive pace and slow 
 
 Thou movest, as conscious of thy master’s wo! 
 
 Seest thou these lids that now unfold in vain? 
 
 (The deed of Noman and his wicked train!) 
 
 Oh! didst thou feel for thy afflicted lord. 
 
 And would but Fate the power of speech afford, 
 
 Soon might’st thou tell me, where in secret here 
 The dastard lurks, all trembling with his fear: 
 
 Swung round and round, and dash’d from rock to rock, 
 His batter’d brains should on the pavement smoke. 540 
 No ease, no pleasure, my sad heart receives. 
 
 While such a monster as vile Noman lives.’ 
 
 “The giant spoke, and through the hollow rock 
 Dismiss’d the ram, the father of the flock. 
 
 No sooner freed, and through th’ enclosure pass’d, 
 
 First I release myself, my fellows last: 
 
 Fat sheep and goats in throngs we drive before, 
 
 And reach our vessel on the winding shore. 
 
 With joy the sailors view their friends return’d, 
 
 And hail us living, whom as dead they mourn’d: 550 
 
 Big tears of transport stand in every eye: 
 
 I check their fondness, and command to fly. 
 
 Aboard in haste they heave the wealthy sheep, 
 
 And snatch their oars and rush into the deep. 
 
 “Now off at sea, and from the shallows clear, 
 
 As far as human voice could reach the ear, 
 
 With taunts the distant giant I accost: 
 
 ‘“Hear me, O Cyclop! hear, ungracious host! 
 
 ’Twas on no coward, no ignoble slave, 
 
 Thou meditat’st thy meal in yonder cave; 
 
 560 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 161 
 
 But one the vengeance fated from above 
 Doom’d to inflict; the instrument of Jove. 
 
 Thy barbarous breach of hospitable bands, 
 
 The god, the god revenges by my hands.’ 
 
 “These words the Cyclop’s burning rage provoke: 
 From the tall hill he rends a pointed rock; 
 
 High o’er the billows flew the massy load. 
 
 And near the ship came thundering on the flood. 
 
 It almost brush’d the helm, and fell before: 
 
 The whole sea shook, and refluent beat the shore. 570 
 The strong concussion on the heaving tide 
 Roll’d back the vessel to the island’s side; 
 
 Again I shoved her off; our fate to fly. 
 
 Each nerve we stretch, and every oar we ply. 
 
 Just ’scaped impending death, when now again 
 We twice as far had furrow’d back the main. 
 
 Once more I raise my voice; my friends, afraid. 
 
 With mild entreaties my design dissuade: 
 
 “‘What boots the godless giant to provoke. 
 
 Whose arm may sink us at a single stroke? 580 
 
 Already when the dreadful rock he threw. 
 
 Old ocean shook, and back his surges flew. 
 
 Thy sounding voice directs his aim again; 
 
 The rock o’erwhelms us; and we ’scaped in vain.’ 
 
 “But I, of mind elate, and scorning fear. 
 
 Thus with new taunts insult the monster’s ear: 
 
 “‘Cyclop! if any, pitying thy disgrace. 
 
 Ask who disfigured thus that eyeless face? 
 
 : Say, ’Twas Ulysses; ’twas his deed declare, 
 
 Laertes son, of Ithaca the fair; 590 
 
 Ulysses, far in fighting fields renown’d. 
 
 Before whose arm Troy tumbled to the ground.’ 
 
 “Th’ astonish’d savage with a roar replies: 
 
 ‘Oh heavens! oh faith of ancient prophecies! 
 
 I This, Telemus Eurymedes foretold, 
 
 (The mighty seer who on these hills grew old; 
 
 'Skill’d the dark fates of mortals to declare. 
 
 And learn’d in all wing’d omens of the air:) 
 
162 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Long since he menaced, such was Fate’s command; 
 
 And named Ulysses as the destined hand. 
 
 I deem’d some godlike giant to behold, 
 
 Or lofty hero, haughty, brave, and bold; 
 
 Not this weak pigmy-wretch, of mean design. 
 
 Who not by strength subdued me, but by wine. 
 
 But come, accept our gifts, and join to pray 
 Great Neptune’s blessing on the watery way; 
 
 For his I am, and I the lineage own; 
 
 Th’ immortal father no less boasts the son. 
 
 His power can heal me, and relight my eye; 
 
 And only his, of all the gods on high.’ 
 
 “‘Oh! could this arm’ (I thus aloud rejoin’d) 
 
 ‘From that vast bulk dislodge thy bloody mind. 
 
 And send thee howling to the realms of night. 
 
 As sure as Neptune cannot give thee sight!’ 
 
 “Thus I; while raging he repeats his cries. 
 
 With hands uplifted to the starry skies: 
 
 “‘Hear me, O Neptune! thou whose arms are hurl’d 
 From shore to shore, and gird the solid world. 
 
 If thine I am, nor thou my birth disown. 
 
 And if th’ unhappy Cyclop be thy son; 620 
 
 Let not Ulysses breathe his native air, 
 
 Laertes son, of Ithaca the fair. 
 
 If to review his country be his fate. 
 
 Be it through toils and sufferings long and late; 
 
 His lost companions let him first deplore; 
 
 Some vessel, not his own, transport him o’er; 
 
 And when at home from foreign sufferings freed. 
 
 More near and deep, domestic woes succeed.’ 
 
 “With imprecations thus he fill’d the air. 
 
 And angry Neptune heard th’ unrighteous prayer. 630 
 A larger rock then heaving from the plain. 
 
 He whirl’d it round; it sung across the main; 
 
 It fell, and brush’d the stern: the billows roar. 
 
 Shake at the weight, and refluent beat the shore. 
 
 With all our force we kept aloof to sea. 
 
 And gain’d the island where our vessels lay. 
 
 ^ 600 
 
 610 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK IX. 
 
 Our sight the whole collected navy cheer’d, 
 
 Who, 'waiting long, by turns had hoped and fear’d. 
 There, disembarking on the green sea-side, 
 
 We land our cattle, and the spoil divide: 
 
 Of these due shares to every sailor fall; 
 
 The master-ram was voted mine by all: 
 
 And him (the guardian of Ulysses’ fate) 
 
 With pious mind to Heaven I consecrate. 
 
 But the great god, whose thunder rends the skies. 
 Averse, beholds the smoking sacrifice; 
 
 And sees me wandering still from coast to coast; 
 And all my vessels, all my people, lost! 
 
 While thoughtless we indulge the genial rite. 
 
 As plenteous cates and flowing bowls invite. 
 
 Till evening Phoebus roll’d away the light: 
 Stretch’d on the shore in careless ease we rest 
 Till ruddy morning purpled o’er the east; 
 
 Then from their anchors all our ships unbind. 
 
 And mount the decks, and call the willing wind. 
 Now, ranged in order, on our banks we sweep, , 
 With hasty strokes the hoarse-resounding deep; 
 Blind to the future, pensive with our fears. 
 
 Glad for the living, for the dead in tears.” 
 
BOOK X. 
 
 Adventures with JEolus, the Lwstrygones, and Circe. 
 
 Argument. —Ulysses arrives at the island of ^olus, who g’ives him prosper¬ 
 ous winds, and incloses the adverse ones in a bag, which his companions 
 untying, they are driven back again, and rejected. Then they sail to the 
 Lsestrygones, where they lose eleven ships, and with one only remaining, 
 proceed to the island of Circb. Eurylochus is sent first with some com¬ 
 panions, all which, except Eurylochus, are transformed into swine. 
 Ulysses then undertakes the adventure, and by the help of Mercury, 
 who gives him the herb moly, overcomes the enchantress, and procures 
 the restoration of his men. After a year’s stay with her, he prepares, at 
 her instigation, for his voyage to the infernal shades. 
 
 “At length we reach’d .folia’s sea-girt shore, 
 
 Where great Hippotades the sceptre bore, 
 
 A floating isle! High raised by toil divine. 
 
 Strong walls of brass the rocky coast confine. 
 
 Six blooming youths, in private grandeur bred. 
 
 And six fair daughters, graced the royal bed; 
 
 These sons their sisters wed, and all remain 
 Their parents’ pride, and pleasure of their reign. 
 
 All day they feast, all day the bowls flow round. 
 
 And joy and music through the isle resound: 10 
 
 All night each pair on splendid carpets lay. 
 
 And crown’d with love the pleasures of the day. 
 
 This happy port affords our wandering fleet 
 A month’s reception, and a safe retreat. 
 
 Full oft the monarch urged me to relate 
 The fall of Ilion, and the Grecian fate; 
 
 Full oft I told; at length for parting moved; 
 
 The king with mighty gifts my suit approved. 
 
 The adverse winds in leathern bags he braced. 
 Compress’d their force, and lock’d each struggling blast. 20 
 For him the mighty sire of gods assign’d 
 The tempest’s lord, the tyrant of the wind: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 165 
 
 His word alonathe listening storms obey, 
 
 To smooth the deep, or swell the foamy sea. 
 
 These in my hollow ship the monarch hung. 
 
 Securely fetter’d by a silver thong; 
 
 But Zephyrus exempt, with friendly gales 
 He charged to fill and guide the swelling sails: 
 
 Rare gift! but, oh, what gift to fools avails! 
 
 “Nine prosperous days we plied the labouring oar; 30 
 The tenth presents our welcome native shore: 
 
 The hills display the beacon’s friendly light. 
 
 And rising mountains gain upon our sight. 
 
 Then first my eyes, by watchful toils oppress’d. 
 
 Complied to take the balmy gifts of rest; 
 
 Then first my hands did from the rudder part 
 (So much the love of home possess’d my heart;) 
 
 When, lo! on board a fond debate arose. 
 
 What rare device those vessels might enclose? 
 
 What sum, what prize, from ^olus I brought? 40 
 
 While to his neighbour each express’d his thought. 
 
 “‘Say, whence, ye gods! contending nations strive 
 Who most shall please, who most our hero give? 
 
 Long have his coffers groan’d with Trojan spoils; 
 
 While we, the wretched partners of his toils. 
 
 Reproach’d by want, our fruitless labours mourn. 
 
 And only rich in barren fame return. 
 
 Now iEolus, ye see, augments his store: 
 
 But come, my friends, these mystic gifts explore.’ 
 
 “ They said; and (oh, cursed fate!) the thongs unbound! 
 The gushing tempest sweeps the ocean round; 51 
 
 Snatch’d in the whirl, the hurried navy flew. 
 
 The ocean widen’d, and the shores withdrew. 
 
 Roused from my fatal sleep, I long debate 
 If still to live, or desperate plunge to fate; 
 
 Thus doubting, prostrate on the deck I lay. 
 
 Till all the coward thoughts of death gave way. 
 
 “Meanwhile, our vessels plough the liquid plain. 
 
 And soon the known iEolian coast regain. 
 
 Our groans the rocks remurmur’d to the main. 
 
 60 
 
166 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 We leap’d on shore, and with a scanty feast 
 Our thirst and hunger hastily repress’d; 
 
 That done, two chosen heralds straight attend 
 Our second progress to my royal friend: 
 
 And him amidst his jovial sons we found; 
 
 The banquets steaming and the goblets crown’d: 
 
 There humbly stopp’d with conscious shame and awe. 
 Nor nearer than the gate presumed to draw. 
 
 But soon his sons their well-known guest descried. 
 
 And, starting from their couches, loudly cried: 70 
 
 “‘Ulysses here! what demon could’st thou meet 
 To thwart thy passage, and repel thy fleet? 
 
 Wast thou not furnish’d by our choicest care 
 For Greece, for home, and all thy soul held dear?’ 
 
 “Thus they; in silence long my fate I mourn’d. 
 
 At length these words with accent low return’d: 
 
 “‘Me, lock’d in sleep, my faithless crew bereft 
 Of all the blessings of your godlike gift! 
 
 But grant, oh grant, our loss we may retrieve! 
 
 A favour you, and you alone, can give.’ 80 
 
 “Thus I with art to move their pity tried. 
 
 And touch’d the youths; but their stern sire replied: 
 
 “‘Vile wretch, begone! this instant I command 
 Thy fleet accursed to leave our hallow’d land. 
 
 His baneful suit pollutes these bless’d abodes. 
 
 Whose fate proclaims him hateful to the gods.’ 
 
 “Thus fierce he said: we sighing went our way. 
 
 And with desponding hearts put off to sea. 
 
 The sailors, spent with toil, their folly mourn. 
 
 But mourn in vain; no prospect of return: 90 
 
 Six days and nights a doubtful course we steer; 
 
 The next, proud Lamos’ stately towers appear. 
 
 And Lsestrygonia’s gates arise distinct in air. 
 
 The shepherd, quitting here at night the plain. 
 
 Calls, to succeed his cares, the watchful swain; 
 
 But he that scorns the chains of sleep to wear, 
 
 And adds the herdsman’s to the shepherd’s care. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 167 
 
 So near the pastures, and so short the way, 
 
 His double toils may claim a double pay, 
 
 And join the labours of the night and day. 100 
 
 “Within a long recess a bay there lies. 
 
 Edged round with cliffs high pointing to the skies: 
 
 The jutting shores that swell on either side 
 Contract its mouth, and break the rushing tide. 
 
 Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat, 
 
 And bound within the port their crowded fleet; 
 
 For here retired, the sinking billows sleep. 
 
 And smiling calmness silver’d o’er the deep. 
 
 I only in the bay refused to moor. 
 
 And fix’d, without, my halsers to the shore. 110 
 
 “From thence we climb’d a point, whose airy brow 
 Commands the prospect of the plains below: 
 
 No tracks of beasts, or signs of men, we found. 
 
 But smoky volumes rolling from the ground. 
 
 Two with our herald thither we command. 
 
 With speed to learn what men possess’d the land. 
 
 They went, and kept the wheel’s smooth beaten road. 
 Which to the city drew the mountain wood; 
 
 When, lo! they met beside a crystal spring, 
 
 The daughter of Antiphates the king: 120 
 
 She to Artacia’s silver streams came down; 
 
 (Artacia’s streams alone supply the town:) 
 
 The damsel they approach, and ask’d what race 
 The people were? who monarch of the place? 
 
 With joy the maid th’ unwary strangers heard. 
 
 And show’d them where the royal dome appear’d. 
 
 They went; but as they, entering, saw the queen. 
 
 Of size enormous, and terrific mien, 
 
 (Not yielding to some bulky mountain’s height,) 
 
 A sudden horror struck their aching sight. 130 
 
 Swift at her call her husband scour’d away 
 To wreak his hunger on the destined prey; 
 
 One for his food the raging glutton slew. 
 
 But two rush’d out, and to the navy flew. 
 
 “Balk’d of his prey, the yelling monster flies. 
 
 And fills the city with his hideous cries; 
 
168 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 A ghastly band of giants hear the roar, 
 
 And, pouring down the mountains, crowd the shore. 
 Fragments they rend from off the craggy brow. 
 
 And dash the ruins on the ships below; 140 
 
 The crackling vessels burst; hoarse groans arise. 
 
 And mingled horrors echo to the skies; 
 
 The men, like fish, they stuck upon the flood, 
 
 And cramm’d their filthy throats with human food. 
 
 While thus their fury rages at the bay. 
 
 My sword our cables cut, I call’d to weigh; 
 
 And charged my men, as they from fate would fly. 
 
 Each nerve to strain, each bending oar to ply, 
 
 The sailors catch the word, their oars they seize. 
 
 And sweep with equal strokes the smoky seas: 150 
 
 Clear of the rocks th’ impatient vessel flies; 
 
 While in the port each wretch encumber’d dies. 
 
 With earnest haste my frighted sailors press. 
 
 While kindling transports glow’d at our success; 
 
 But the sad fate that did our friends destroy 
 Cool’d every breast, and damp’d the rising joy. 
 
 “Now dropp’d our anchors in iEsBan bay. 
 
 Where Circ^ dwell’d, the daughter of the Day! 
 
 Her mother Pers^, of old Ocean’s strain. 
 
 Thus from the Sun descended, and the Main, 160 
 
 (From the same lineage stern iEetes came. 
 
 The far-famed brother of th’ enchantress dame,) 
 
 Goddess and queen, to whom the powers belong 
 Of dreadful magic and commanding song. 
 
 Some god directing, to this peaceful bay 
 Silent we came, and melancholy lay. 
 
 Spent and o’erwatch’d. Two days and nights roll’d on, 
 And now the third succeeding morning shone. 
 
 I climb’d a cliff, with spear and sword in hand. 
 
 Whose ridge o’erlook’d a shady length of land, 170 
 
 To learn if aught of mortal works appear. 
 
 Or cheerful voice of mortal strike the ear. 
 
 From the high point I mark’d, in distant view, 
 
 A stream of curling smoke ascending blue, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 169 
 
 And spiry tops, the tufted trees above, 
 
 Of Circe’s palace, bosom’d in the grove. 
 
 “Thither to haste, the region to explore. 
 
 Was my first thought: but speeding back to shore 
 I deem’d it best to visit first my crew. 
 
 And send out spies the dubious coast to view. 180 
 
 As down the hill I solitary go. 
 
 Some power divine, who pities human wo. 
 
 Sent a tall stag, descending from the wood, 
 
 To cool his fervour in the crystal flood; 
 
 Luxuriant on the wave-worn bank he lay, 
 
 Stretch’d forth, and panting in the sunny ray. 
 
 I launch’d my spear, and with a sudden wound 
 Transpierced his back, and fix’d him to the ground. 
 
 He falls, and mourns his fate with human cries: 
 
 Through the wide wound the vital spirit flies. 190 
 
 I drew, and casting on the river’s side 
 The bloody spear, his gather’d feet I tied 
 With twining osiers, which the bank supplied. 
 
 An ell in length the pliant wisp I weaved, 
 
 And the huge body on my shoulders heaved: 
 
 Then leaning on my spear with both my hands. 
 
 Upbore my load, and press’d the sinking sands 
 With weighty steps, till at the ship I threw 
 The welcome burden, and bespoke my crew: 
 
 “‘Cheer up, my friends! it is not yet our fate 200 
 To glide with ghosts through Pluto’s gloomy gate. 
 
 Food in the desert land, behold! is given; 
 
 Live, and enjoy the providence of Heaven.’ 
 
 “The joyful crew survey his mighty size. 
 
 And on the future banquet feast their eyes. 
 
 As huge in length extended lay the beast; 
 
 Then wash their hands, and hasten to the feast. 
 
 There, till the setting sun roll’d down the light, 
 
 They sate, indulging in the genial rite. 
 
 When evening rose, and darkness cover’d o’er 210 
 
 The face of things, we slept along the shore. 
 
 1 But when the rosy morning warmed the east, 
 
 . My men I summon’d, and these words address’d: 
 
 8 
 
170 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 “‘Followers and friends! attend what I propose; 
 Ye sad companions of Ulysses’ woes! 
 
 We know not here what land before us lies, 
 
 Or to what quarter now we turn our eyes, 
 
 Or where the sun shall set, or where shall lise. 
 Here let us think (if thinking be not vain) 
 
 If any counsel, any hope remain. 
 
 Alas! from yonder promontory’s brow 
 I view’d the coast, a region flat and low: 
 
 An isle encircled with the boundless flood; 
 
 A length of thickets, and entangled wood. 
 
 Some smoke I saw amid the forests rise. 
 
 And all around it only seas and skies!’ 
 
 “With broken hearts my sad companions stood. 
 Mindful of Cyclops and his human food. 
 
 And horrid Laestrygons, the men of blood. 
 Presaging tears apace began to rain; 
 
 But tears in mortal miseries are vain. 
 
 In equal parts I straight divide my band. 
 
 And name a chief each party to command; 
 
 I led the one, and of the other side 
 Appointed brave Eurylochus the guide. 
 
 Then in the brazen helm the lots we throw. 
 
 And fortune casts Eurylochus to go: 
 
 He march’d with twice eleven in his train; 
 Pensive they march, and pensive we remain. 
 
 “The palace in a woody vale they found. 
 
 High raised of stone; a shaded space around; 
 Where mountain-wolves and brindled lions roam. 
 By magic tamed, familiar to the dome. 
 
 With gentle blandishment our men they meet. 
 And wag their tails, and fawning lick their feet. 
 As from some feast a man returning late. 
 
 His faithful dogs all meet him at the gate. 
 Rejoicing round, some morsel to receive, 
 
 (Such as the good man ever used to give.) 
 Domestic thus the grisly beasts drew near: 
 
 They gaze with wonder, not unmix’d with fear. 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
 240 
 
 250 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 171 
 
 Now on the threshold of the dome they stood, 
 
 And heard a voice resounding through the wood: 
 
 Placed at her loom within, the goddess sung: 
 
 The vaulted roofs and solid pavement rung. 
 
 O’er the fair web the rising figures shine. 
 
 Immortal labour! worthy hands divine. 
 
 Polites to the rest the question moved 
 (A gallant leader, and the man I loved): 
 
 “‘What voice celestial, chanting to the loom, 260 
 Or nymph or goddess, echoes from the room? 
 
 Say, shall we seek access?’—With that they call; 
 
 And wide unfold the portals of the hall. 
 
 “The goddess, rising, asks her guests to stay. 
 
 Who blindly follow where she leads the way. 
 
 Eurylochus alone of all the band. 
 
 Suspecting fraud, more prudently remain’d. 
 
 On thrones around with downy coverings graced. 
 
 With semblance fair, th’ unhappy men she placed. 
 
 Milk newly press’d, the sacred flour of wheat, 270 
 
 And honey fresh, and Pramnian wines the treat: 
 
 But venom’d was the bread, and mix’d the bowl 
 With drugs of force, to darken all the soul: 
 
 Soon in the luscious feast themselves they lost. 
 
 And drank oblivion of their native coast. 
 
 Instant her circling wand the goddess waves. 
 
 To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives. 
 
 No more was seen the human form divine; 
 
 Head, face, and members, bristle into swine: 
 
 Still cursed with sense, their minds remain alone, 280 
 And their own voice aifrights them when they groan. 
 Meanwhile, the goddess in disdain bestows 
 The mast and acom, brutal food! and strows 
 The fruits of cornel, as their feast, around; 
 
 Now prone and grovelling on unsavoury ground. 
 
 “Eurylochus, with pensive steps and slow, 
 
 Aghast returns; the messenger of wo. 
 
 And bitter fate. To speak he made essay. 
 
 In vain essay’d, nor would his tongue obey; 
 
 His swelling heart denied the words their way: 
 
 290 ‘ 
 
172 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 But speaking tears the want of words supply, 
 
 And the full soul bursts copious from his eye. 
 
 Atfrighted, anxious for our fellows’ fates, 
 
 We press to hear what sadly he relates: 
 
 “‘We went, Ulysses! (such was thy command!) 
 Through the lone thicket and the desert land. 
 
 A palace in a woody vale we found. 
 
 Brown with dark forests, and with shades around. 
 
 A voice celestial echoed from the dome. 
 
 Or nymph or goddess chanting to the loom. 300 
 
 Access we sought, nor was access denied: 
 
 Radiant she came; the portals open’d wide: 
 
 The goddess mild invites the guests to stay: 
 
 They blindly follow where she leads the way. 
 
 I only wait behind, of all the train: 
 
 I waited long, and eyed the doors in vain: 
 
 The rest are vanish’d, none repass’d the gate; 
 
 And not a man appears to tell their fate.’ 
 
 “I heard, and instant o’er my shoulders flung 
 The belt in which my weighty faulchion hung; 310 
 
 (A beamy blade;) then seized the bended bow. 
 
 And bade him guide the way, resolved to go. 
 
 He, prostrate falling, with both hands embraced 
 My knees, and, weeping, thus his suit address’d: 
 
 “‘O king, beloved of Jove! thy servant spare. 
 
 And, ah, thyself the rash attempt forbear! 
 
 Never, alas! thou never shalt return. 
 
 Or see the wretched for whose loss we mourn. 
 
 With what remains, from certain ruin fly, 
 
 And save the few not fated yet to die.’ 320 
 
 “I answer’d stern: ‘Inglorious then remain, 
 
 Here feast and loiter, and desert thy train. 
 
 Alone, unfriended, will I tempt my way; 
 
 The laws of fate compel, and I obey.’ 
 
 “This said, and scornful turning from the shore 
 My haughty step, I stalk’d the valley o’er. 
 
 Till now approaching nigh the magic bower. 
 
 Where dwelt th’ enchantress, skill’d in herbs of power; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 173 
 
 A form divine forth issued from the wood 
 (Immortal Hermes with the golden rod) 330 
 
 In human semblance. On his bloomy face 
 Youth smiled celestial, with each opening grace. 
 
 He seized my hand, and gracious thus began: 
 
 “‘Ah, whither roam’st thou, much-enduring man? 
 
 Oh, blind to fate! what led thy steps to rove 
 The horrid mazes of this magic grove? 
 
 Each friend you seek in yon enclosure lies. 
 
 All lost their form, and habitants of sties. 
 
 Think’st thou by wit to model their escape? 
 
 Sooner shalt thou, a stranger to thy shape, 340 
 
 Fall prone their equal: first thy danger know, 
 
 Then take the antidote the gods bestow. 
 
 The plant I give, through all the direful bower 
 Shall guard thee, and avert the evil hour. 
 
 Now hear her wicked arts: Before thy eyes 
 The bowl shall sparkle, and the banquet rise; 
 
 Take this, nor from the faithless feast abstain. 
 
 For temper’d drugs and poisons shall be vain. 
 
 Soon as she strikes her wand, and gives the word, 
 
 Draw forth and brandish thy refulgent sword, 350 
 
 And menace death; those menaces shall move 
 Her alter’d mind to blandishment and love. 
 
 Nor shun the blessing proffer’d to thy arms. 
 
 Ascend her bed, and taste celestial charms: 
 
 So shall thy tedious toils a respite find. 
 
 And thy lost friends return to human-kind. 
 
 But swear her first by those dread oaths that tie 
 The powers below, the blessed in the sky; 
 
 Lest to thee, naked, secret fraud be meant. 
 
 Or magic bind thee cold and impotent.’ . 360 
 
 “Thus while he spoke, the sovereign plant he drew. 
 Where on th’ all-bearing earth unmark’d it grew. 
 
 And show’d its nature and. its wondrous power: 
 
 Black was the root, but milky white the flower; 
 
 Moly the name, to mortals hard to find. 
 
 But all is easv to th’ ethereal kind. 
 
174 
 
 THE 
 
 ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 370 
 
 This Hermes gave; then, gliding off the glade, 
 
 Shot to Olympus from the woodland shade. 
 
 While, full of thought, revolving fates to come, 
 
 1 speed my passage to th’ enchanted dome. 
 
 Arrived, before the lofty gates I stay’d; ^ 
 
 The lofty gates the goddess wide display’d: 
 
 She leads before, and to the feast invites; 
 
 I follow sadly to the magic rites. 
 
 Radiant with starry studs, a silver seat 
 Received my limbs; a footstool eased my feet. 
 
 She mix’d the potion, fraudulent of soul; 
 
 The poison mantled in the golden bowl. 
 
 I took, and quaff’d it, confident in Heaven. 
 
 Then waved the wand, and then the word was given: 380 
 ‘Hence to thy fellows!’ (dreadful she began) 
 
 ‘Go, be a beast!’—I heard, and yet was man. 
 
 “Then sudden whirling, like a waving flame. 
 
 My beamy faulchion, I assault the dame. 
 
 Struck with unusual fear, she trembling cries. 
 
 She faints, she falls; she lifts her weeping eyes, [came? 
 
 “‘What art thou? say! from whence, from whom you 
 Oh, more than human! tell thy race, thy name. 
 
 Amazing strength, these poisons to sustain! 
 
 Nor mortal thou, nor mortal is thy brain. 
 
 Or art thou he? the man to come, (foretold 
 By Hermes, powerful with the wand of gold?) 
 
 The man from Troy, who wander’d ocean round; 
 
 The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d, 
 
 Ulysses? Oh! thy threatening fury cease. 
 
 Sheath thy bright sword, and join our hands in peace! 
 Let mutual joys our mutual trust combine. 
 
 And love, and love-born confidence, be thine.’ 
 
 “‘And how, dread Circ4!’ furious I rejoin, 
 
 ‘Can love, and love-born confidence, be mine? 
 
 Beneath thy charms when my companions groan. 
 Transform’d to beasts, with accents not their own? 
 
 Oh, thou of fraudful heart, shall I be led 
 To share thy feast-rites, or ascend thy bed, 
 
 390 
 
 400 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 175 
 
 That, all unarm’d, thy vengeance may have vent. 
 
 And magic bind me, cold and impotent? 
 
 Celestial as thou art, yet stand denied; 
 
 Or swear that oath by which the gods are tied. 
 
 Swear, in thy soul no latent frauds remain. 
 
 Swear by the vow which never can be vain.’ 410 
 
 “The goddess swore: then seized my hand, and led 
 To the sweet transports of the genial bed. 
 
 Minislrant to their queen, with busy care 
 Four faithful handmaids the soft rites prepare; 
 
 Nymphs sprung from fountains, or from shady woods, 
 
 Or the fair offspring of the sacred floods. 
 
 One o’er the couches painted carpets threw. 
 
 Whose purple lustre glow’d against the view: 
 
 White linen lay beneath. Another placed 
 
 The silver stands, with golden flaskets graced: 420 
 
 With dulcet beverage this the beaker crown’d. 
 
 Fair in the midst, with gilded cups around; 
 
 That in the tripod o’er the kindled pile 
 The water pours; the bubbling waters boil; 
 
 An ample vase receives the smoking wave; 
 
 And, in the bath prepared, my limbs I lave; 
 
 Reviving sweets repair the mind’s decay, 
 
 And take the painful sense of toil away. 
 
 A vest and tunic o’er me next she threw. 
 
 Fresh from the bath, and dropping balmy dew; 430 
 
 Then led and placed me on the sovereign seat. 
 
 With carpets spread; a footstool at my feet. 
 
 The golden ewer a nymph obsequious brings, 
 
 Replenish’d from the cool translucent springs, 
 
 With copious water the bright vase supplies 
 A silver laver of capacious size. 
 
 I wash’d. The table in fair order spread. 
 
 They heap the glittering canisters with bread; 
 
 Viands of various kinds allure the taste, 
 
 Of choicest sort and savour—rich repast! 44( 
 
 Circ^ in vain invites the feast to share; 
 
 Absent I ponder, and absorb’d in care: 
 
176 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 While scenes of wo rose anxious in my breast, ^ « 
 
 The queen beheld me, and these words address’d: 
 
 “‘Why sits Ulysses silent and apart, ./ 
 
 Some hoard of grief close harbour’d at his heart? ? 
 
 Untouch’d before thee stand the cates divine, 
 
 And unregarded laughs the rosy wine. 
 
 Can yet a doubt or any dread remain. 
 
 When sworn that oath which never can be vain?’ 450 
 “I answer’d: ‘Goddess! human is my breast. 
 
 By justice sway’d, by tender pity press’d: 
 
 Ill fits it me, whose friends ^re sunk to beasts. 
 
 To quaff thy bowls, or riot in thy feasts. 
 
 Me would’st thou please? for them thy cares employ, 
 
 And them to me restore, and me to joy.’ 
 
 “With that she parted; in her potent hand 
 She bore the virtue of the magic wand. 
 
 Then, hastening to the sties, set wide the door. 
 
 Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd before; 460 
 
 Unwieldy, out they rush’d with general cry. 
 
 Enormous beasts, dishonest to the eye. 
 
 Now touch’d by counter-charms, they change again, 
 
 And stand majestic, and recall’d to men. 
 
 Those hairs of late that bristled every part. 
 
 Fall off—miraculous effect of art!— 
 
 Till all the form in full proportion rise, 
 
 More young, more large, more graceful to my eyes. 
 
 They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace 
 Clung to their master in a long embrace: 470 
 
 Sad, pleasing sight! with tears each eye ran o’er, 
 
 And sobs of joy reechoed through the bower: 
 
 Ev’n Circ^ wept, her adamantine heart 
 Felt pity enter, and sustain’d her part. 
 
 “‘Son of Laertes!’ (then the queen began) 
 
 ‘Oh, much-enduring, much-experienced man! 
 
 Haste to thy vessel on the sea-beat shore. 
 
 Unload thy treasures, and the galley moor; 
 
 Then bring thy friends, secure from future harms, 
 
 And in our grottoes stow thy spoils and arms.’ 
 
 480 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 177 
 
 “She said. Obedient to her high command 
 I quit the place, and hasten to the strand. 
 
 My sad companions on the beach I found, 
 
 Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow drown’d. 
 
 As from fresh pastures and the dewy field. 
 
 When loaded cribs their evening banquet yield, 
 
 The lowing herds return; around them throng 
 With leaps and bounds their late-imprison’d young, 
 
 Rush to their mothers with unruly joy. 
 
 And echoing hills return the tender cry; 490 
 
 So round me press’d, exulting at my sight, 
 
 V/ith cries and agonies of wild delight. 
 
 The weeping sailors; nor less fierce their joy 
 Than if return’d to Ithaca from Troy. 
 
 “‘Ah, master! ever honour’d, ever dear!’ 
 
 (These tender words on every side I hear) 
 
 ‘What other joy can equal thy return? 
 
 Not that loved country for whose sight we mourn, 
 
 The soil that nursed us, and that gave us breath: 
 
 But, ah! relate our lost companions’ death.’ 500 
 
 “I answer’d cheerfully: ‘Haste, your galley moor. 
 
 And bring our treasures and our arms ashore: 
 
 Those in yon hollow cavern let us lay; 
 
 Then rise and follow where I lead the way. 
 
 Your fellows live: believe your eyes, and come 
 To taste the joys of Circe’s sacred dome.’ 
 
 “With ready speed the joyful crew obey: 
 
 Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay. 
 
 “‘Whither,’ he cried, ‘ah whither will ye run? 
 
 Seek ye to meet those evils ye should shun? 510 
 
 Will you the terrors of the dome explore. 
 
 In swine to grovel, or in lions roar. 
 
 Or, wolf-like, howl away the midnight hour 
 In dreadful watch around the magic bower? 
 
 Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed; 
 
 The leader’s rashness made the soldiers bleed.’ 
 
 “I heard incensed, and first resolved to speed 
 My flying faulchion at the rebel’s head. 
 
 8* M 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 178 
 
 Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound, 
 
 This hand had stretch’d him breathless on the ground. 
 But all at once my interposing train ^ 
 
 For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain. 
 
 ‘“Leave here the man who dares his prince deseit. 
 Leave to repentance and his own sad heart. 
 
 To guard the ship. Seek we the sacred shades 
 Of Circd’s palace, where Ulysses leads.’ ^ 
 
 “This with one voice declared, the rising tiain 
 Left the black vessel by the murmuring main. 
 
 Shame touch’d Eurylochus’s alter’d breast. 
 
 He fear’d my threats, and follow’d with the rest. 
 
 “Meanwhile, the goddess, with indulgent cares 
 And social joys, the late transform’d repairs; 
 
 The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews; 
 
 Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews: 
 Brightening with joy, their eager eyes behold 
 Each other’s face, and each his story told; 
 
 Then gushing tears the narrative confound. 
 
 And with their sobs the vaulted roofs resound. 
 
 When hush’d their passion, thus the goddess cries: 
 
 “‘Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise. 
 
 Let this short memory of grief suffice. 
 
 To me are known the various woes ye bore, 
 
 In storms by sea, in perils on the shore; 
 
 Forget whatever was in Fortune’s power, 
 
 And share the pleasures of this genial hour. 
 
 Such be your minds as ere ye left your coast, 
 
 Or learn’d to sorrow for a country lost. 
 
 Exiles and wanderers now, where’er ye go. 
 
 Too faithful memory renews your wo; 
 
 The cause removed, habitual griefs remain. 
 
 And the soul saddens by the use of pain.’ 
 
 “ Her kind entreaty moved the general breast; 
 Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest. 
 
 We plied the banquet, and the bowl we crown’d, 
 Till the full circle of the year came round. 
 
 But when the seasons, following in their train. 
 Brought back the months, the days, and hours again 
 
 520 
 
 530 
 
 540 
 
 550 
 
 > 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 179 
 
 As from a lethargy at once they rise, 
 
 And urge their chief with animating cries: 
 
 “‘Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot? 560 
 
 And is the name of Ithaca forgot? 
 
 Shall never the dear land in prospect rise. 
 
 Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes?’ 
 
 “Melting I heard; yet, till the sun’s decline. 
 
 Prolong’d the feast, and quaff’d the rosy wine; 
 
 But when the shades came on at evening hour. 
 
 And all lay slumbering in-the dusky bower; 
 
 I came a suppliant to fair Circe’s bed. 
 
 The tender moment seized, and thus I said: 
 
 “‘Be mindful, goddess! of thy promise made; 570 
 Must sad Ulysses ever be delay’d? 
 
 Around their lord my sad companions mourn. 
 
 Each breast beats homeward, anxious to return: 
 
 If but a moment parted from thy eyes. 
 
 Their tears flow round me, and my heart complies.’ 
 
 “‘Go then,’ she cried, ‘ah, go! yet think not I, 
 
 Not Circ^, but the Fates, your wish deny. 
 
 Ah, hope not yet to breathe thy native air! 
 
 Far other journey first demands thy care: 
 
 To tread th’ uncomfortable paths beneath, 580 
 
 And view the realms of darkness and of death. 
 
 There seek the Theban bard, deprived of sight; 
 
 Within, irradiate with prophetic light: 
 
 To whom Persephon^, entire and whole. 
 
 Gave to retain th’ unseparated soul: 
 
 The rest are forms of empty ether made: 
 
 Impassive semblance, and a flitting shade.’ 
 
 “Struck at the word, my very heart was dead: 
 
 Pensive I sate; my tears bedew’d the bed; 
 
 To hate the light and life my soul begun, 590 
 
 And saw that all was grief beneath the sun. 
 
 Composed at length, the gushing tears suppress’d. 
 
 And my toss’d limbs now wearied into rest: 
 
 “‘How shall I tread,’ I cried, ‘ah, Circe! say, 
 
 The dark descent, and who shall guide the way? 
 
180 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 Can living eyes behold the realms below? 
 
 What bark to waft me, and what wind to blow V 
 ‘“Thy fated road,’ the magic power replied, 
 ‘Divine Ulysses! asks no mortal guide. 
 
 Rear but the mast, the spacious bed display. 
 
 The northern winds shall wing thee on thy way. 
 Soon shalt thou reach old Ocean’s utmost ends. 
 Where to the main the shelving shore descends; 
 The barren trees of Prosperpine’s black woods. 
 Poplars and willows trembling o’er the floods: 
 There fix thy vessel in the lonely bay. 
 
 And enter there the kingdoms void of day: 
 Where Phlegethon’s loud torrents, rushing down, 
 Hiss in the flaming gulf of Acheron; 
 
 And where, slow rolling from the Stygian bed, 
 Cocytus’ lamentable waters spread; 
 
 Where the dark rock o’er hangs th’ infernal lake, 
 And mingling streams eternal murmurs make. 
 First draw thy faulchion, and on every side 
 Trench the black earth a cubit long and wide: ' 
 To all the shades around libations pour. 
 
 And o’er th’ ingredients strew the hallow’d flour: 
 New wine and milk, with honey temper’d, bring. 
 And living water from the crystal spring. 
 
 Then the wan shades and feeble ghosts implore. 
 With promised offerings on thy native shore; 
 
 A barren cow, the stateliest of the isle. 
 
 And, heap’d with various wealth, a blazing pile: 
 These to the rest; but to the seer must bleed 
 A sable ram, the pride of all thy breed. 
 
 These solemn vows and holy offerings paid 
 To all the phantom nations of the dead. 
 
 Be next thy care the sable sheep to place 
 Full o’er the pit, and hellward turn their face: 
 But from th’ infernal rite thine eye withdraw. 
 And back to Ocean glance with reverend awe. 
 Sudden shall skim along the dusky glades 
 Thin airy shoals, and visionary shades. 
 
 < .1 
 
 610 
 
 620 
 
 # 
 
 630 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK X. 
 
 181 
 
 Then give command the sacrifice to haste, 
 
 Let the flay’d victims in the flames be cast, 
 
 And sacred vows and mystic song applied 
 To grisly Pluto and his gloomy bride. 
 
 Wide o’er the pool, thy faulchion waved around 
 Shall drive the spectres from forbidden ground: 
 
 The sacred draught shall all the dead forbear, 640 
 
 Till awful from the shades arise the seer. 
 
 Let him, oraculous, the end, the way. 
 
 The turns of all thy future fate, display. 
 
 Thy pilgrimage to come, and remnant of thy day.’ 
 
 “So speaking, from the ruddy orient shone 
 The morn, conspicuous on her golden throne. 
 
 The goddess with a radiant tunic dress’d 
 My limbs, and o’er me cast a silken vest. 
 
 Long flowing robes, of purest white, array 
 
 The nymph, that added lustre to the day: 650 
 
 A tiar wreathed her head with many a fold; 
 
 Her waist was circled with a zone of gold. 
 
 Forth issuing then, from place to place I flew; 
 
 Rouse man by man, and animate my crew: 
 
 “‘Rise, rise, my mates! ’tis Circ^ gives command. 
 
 Our journey calls us; haste, and quit the land.’ 
 
 “All rise and follow, yet depart not all, 
 
 For Fate decreed one wretched man to fall. 
 
 A youth there was, Elpenor was he named, 
 
 Not much for sense, nor much for courage famed; 660 
 The youngest of our band, a vulgar soul. 
 
 Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl. 
 
 He, hot and careless, on a turret’s height 
 With sleep repair’d the long debauch of night: 
 
 The sudden tumult stirr’d him where he lay. 
 
 And down he hasten’d, but forgot the way; 
 
 Full headlong from the roof the sleeper fell. 
 
 And snapp’d the spinal joint, and waked in hell. 
 
 The rest crowd round me with an eager look, 
 
 I met them with a sigh, and thus bespoke: 670 
 
 “ ‘ Already, friends I ye think your toils are o’er. 
 
 Your hopes already touch your native shore: 
 
182 
 
 Alas! far otherwise the nymph declares, 
 
 Far other journey first demands our cares; 
 
 To tread th’ uncomfortable paths beneath, 
 
 The dreary realms of darkness and of death; 
 
 To seek Tiresias’ awful shade below. 
 
 And thence our fortunes and our fates to know.’ 
 
 “My sad companions heard in deep despair: 
 
 Frantic they tore their manly growth of hair; 680 
 
 To earth they fell; the tears began to rain; 
 
 But tears in mortal miseries are vain. 
 
 Sadly they fared along the sea-beat shore; 
 
 Still heaved their hearts, and still their eyes ran o’er. 
 
 The ready victims at our bark we found. 
 
 The sable ewe and ram together bound; 
 
 For, swift as thought, the goddess had been there. 
 
 And thence had glided, viewless as the air: 
 
 The paths of gods what mortal can survey? 
 
 Who eyes their motion? who shall trace their way?” 690 • 
 
BOOK XI. 
 
 The Descent into Hell, and Conversation with the Shades. 
 
 Argument. —Ulysses continues his narration. How he arrived at the land of 
 the Cimmerians, and what ceremonies he performed to invoke the dead. 
 The manner of his descent, and the apparition of the shades; his conver¬ 
 sation with Elpenor, and with Tiresias, who informs him, in a prophetic 
 manner, of his fortunes to come. He meets his mother Anticlea, from 
 whom he learns the state of his family. He sees the shades of the 
 ancient heroines, afterwards of the heroes, and converses in particular 
 with Ag-amemnon and Achilles. Ajax keeps at a sullen distance, and 
 disdains to answer him. He then beholds Tityus, Tantalus, Sysiphus, 
 and Hercules; till he is deterred from further curiosity by the apparition 
 of horrid spectres, and the cries of the wicked in torments. 
 
 “Now to the shores we bend, a mournful train, 
 
 Climb the tall bark, and launch into the main: 
 
 At once the mast we rear, at once unbind 
 The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind; 
 
 Then pale and pensive stand, with cares oppress’d. 
 
 And solemn horror saddens every breast. 
 
 A freshening breeze the magic power* supplied. 
 
 While the winged vessel flew along the tide; 
 
 Our oars we shipp’d: all day the swelling sails 
 Full from the guiding pilot catch the gales. 10 
 
 “Now sunk the sun from his aerial height. 
 
 And o’er the shaded billows rush’d the night: 
 
 When, lo! we reach’d old Ocean’s utmost bounds, 
 
 Where rocks control his waves with ever-during mounds. 
 There in a lonely land, and gloomy cells. 
 
 The dusky nation of Cimmeria dwells; 
 
 The sun ne’er views th’ uncomfortable seats. 
 
 When radiant he advances, or retreats: 
 
 * Circ6. 
 
184 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 Unhappy race! whom endless night invades, 
 
 Clouds the dull air, and wraps them round in shades. 20 ^ 
 
 “The ship we moor on these obscure abodes: 
 
 Disbark the sheep, an offering to the gods; . * 
 
 And, hellward bending, o’er the beach descry , 
 
 The dolesome passage to th’ infernal sky. | 
 
 The victims, vow’d to each Tartarean power, 
 
 Eurylochus and Perimedd bore. 
 
 “Here open’d hell; all hell I here implored, ' > 
 
 And from the scabbard drew the shining sword: | 
 
 And, trenching the black earth on every side, 
 
 A cavern form’d, a cubit long and wide. 30 
 
 New wine, with honey-temper’d milk, we bring. 
 
 Then living waters from the crystal spring: 
 
 O’er these was strew’d the consecrated flour, 
 
 And on the surface shone the holy store. , 
 
 “Now the wan shades we hail, th’ infernal gods, 
 
 To speed our course, and waft us o’er the floods: 
 
 “‘So shall a barren heifer from the stall . i 
 
 Beneath the knife upon your altars fall; J 
 
 So in our palace, at our safe return. 
 
 Rich with unnumber’d gifts the pile shall burn; 40 : | 
 
 So shall a ram, the largest of the breed, i | 
 
 Black as these regions, to Tiresias bleed.’ | 
 
 “Thus solemn rites and holy vows we paid i | 
 
 To all the phantom nations of the dead. : i ^ 
 
 Then died the sheep: a purple torrent flow’d, j | 
 
 And all the caverns smoked with streaming blood. (| 
 
 When, lol appear’d along the dusky coasts, >/ § 
 
 Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts: , r.f 
 
 Fair, pensive youths, and soft enamour’d maids; 
 
 And wither’d elders, pale and wrinkled shades; 50 
 
 Ghastly with wounds, the forms of warriors slain | 
 
 Stalk’d with majestic port, a martial train: i 
 
 These and a thousand more swarm’d o’er the ground. 
 
 And all the dire assembly shriek’d around. 
 
 Astonish’d at the sight, aghast I stood, ^ d| 
 
 And a cold fear ran shivering through my blood; ^ ,.v| 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 185 
 
 Straight I command the sacrifice to haste, 
 
 Straight the flay’d victims to the flames are cast, 
 
 And mutter’d vows, and mystic song applied 
 
 To grisly Pluto and his gloomy bride. 60 
 
 Now swift I waved my faulchion o’er the blood; 
 
 Back started the pale throngs, and trembling stood. 
 Round the black trench the gore untasted flows. 
 
 Till awful from the shades Tiresias rose. 
 
 “There wandering through the gloom I first survey’d. 
 New to the realms of death, Elpenor’s shade: 
 
 His cold remains, all naked to the sky. 
 
 On distant shores unwept, unburied, lie. 
 
 Sad at the sight I stand, deep fix’d in wo; 
 
 And ere I spoke, the tears began to flow: 70 
 
 “‘Oh say, what angry power Elpenor led 
 To glide in shades, and wander with the dead? 
 
 How could thy soul, by realms and seas disjoin’d, 
 
 Outfly the nimble sail, and leave the lagging wind?’ 
 
 “The ghost replied: ‘To hell my doom I owe. 
 
 Demons accursed, dire ministers of wo! 
 
 My feet, through wine unfaithful to their weight, 
 
 Betray’d me tumbling from a towery height; 
 
 Staggering I reel’d, and, as I reel’d, I fell, 
 
 Lux’d the neck-joint—my soul descends to hell. 80 
 
 But lend me aid, I now conjure thee lend. 
 
 By the soft tie and sacred name of friend! 
 
 By thy fond consort! by thy father’s cares! 
 
 By loved Telemachus’s blooming years! 
 
 For well I know that soon the heavenly powers 
 Will give thee back to day, and Circe’s shores; 
 
 There pious on my cold remains attend. 
 
 There call to mind thy poor departed friend! 
 
 The tribute of a tear is all I crave. 
 
 And the possession of a peaceful grave. 90 
 
 1 But if, unheard, in vain compassion plead, 
 
 1 Revere the gods, the gods avenge the dead! 
 
 A tomb along the watery margin raise. 
 
 The tomb with manly arms and trophies grace, 
 i To show posterity Elpenor was. 
 
186 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XL 
 
 There high in air, memorial of my name, 
 
 Fix the smooth oar, and bid me live to fame. 
 
 “ To whom, with tears: ‘ These rites, oh, mournful shade! 
 Due to thy ghost, shall to thy ghost be paid. 
 
 “Still as I spoke, the phantom seem’d to moan, 100 
 Tear follow’d tear, and groan succeeded groan. 
 
 But, as my waving sword the blood surrounds. 
 
 The shade withdrew, and mutter’d empty sounds. 
 
 “There, as the wondrous visions I survey’d, 
 
 All pale ascends my royal mother’s shade: 
 
 A queen, to Troy she saw our legions pass; 
 
 Now a thin form is all Anticlea was! 
 
 Struck at the sight, I melt with filial wo. 
 
 And down my cheek the pious sorrows flow: 
 
 Yet as I shook my faulchion o’er the blood. 
 Regardless of her son the parent stood. 
 
 “When, lol the mighty Theban I behold; 
 
 To guide his steps he bore a staff of gold: 
 
 Awful he trod 1 majestic was his look 1 
 And from his holy lips these accents broke: 
 
 “‘W^hy, mortal, wanderest thou from cheerful day, 
 To tread the downward, melancholy way ? 
 
 What angry gods to these dark regions led 
 Thee yet alive, companion of the dead? 
 
 But sheath thy poniard, while my tongue relates 
 Heaven’s steadfast purpose, and thy future fates.’ 
 
 “While yet he spoke, the prophet I obey’d. 
 
 And in the scabbard plunged the glittering blade. 
 Eager he quaff’d the gore, and then express’d 
 Dark things to come, the counsels of his breast: 
 
 “‘Weary of light, Ulysses here explores 
 A prosperous voyage to his native shores; 
 
 But know: by me unerring Fates disclose’ 
 
 New trains of danger, and new scenes of woes; 
 
 I see—I see—thy bark by Neptune toss’d. 
 
 For injured Cyclops, and his eye-ball lost 1 
 Yet to thy woes the gods decree an end. 
 
 If Heaven thou please; and how to please attend 1 
 
 110 
 
 120 
 
 130 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 187 
 
 Where on Trinacrian rocks the ocean roars, 
 Graze numerous herds along the verdant shores: 
 Though hunger press, yet fly the dangerous prey. 
 The herds are sacred to the god of day. 
 
 Who all surveys with his extensive eye— 
 
 Above, below, on earth, and in the sky! 
 
 Rob not the god; and so propitious gales 
 Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails: 
 
 But, if his herds ye seize, beneath the waves 
 I see thy friends overwhelm'd in liquid graves! 
 The direful wreck Ulysses scarce survives! 
 Ulysses at his country scarce arrives! 
 
 Strangers thy guides! nor there thy labours end: 
 New foes arise, domestic ills attend! 
 
 There foul adulterers to thy bride resort. 
 
 And lordly gluttons riot in thy court. 
 
 But vengeance hastes amain: These eyes behold 
 The deathful scene, princes on princes roll’d! 
 That done, a people far from sea explore. 
 
 Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar. 
 
 Or saw gay vessels stem the watery plain, 
 
 A painted wonder flying on the main. 
 
 Bear on thy back an oar: with strange amaze 
 A shepherd meeting thee, the oar surveys. 
 
 And names a van: there fix it on the plain. 
 
 To calm the god that holds the watery reign; 
 
 A threefold offering to his altar bring, 
 
 A bull, a ram, a boar; and hail the ocean-king. 
 
 But, home return’d, to each ethereal power 
 Slay the due victim in the genial hour: 
 
 So peaceful shalt thou end thy blissful days. 
 
 And steal thyself from life by slow decays; 
 
 Unknown to pain, in age resign thy breath. 
 
 When late stern Neptune points the shaft with death: 
 
 To the dark grave retiring as to rest. 
 
 Thy people blessing, by thy people bless’d! 
 Unerring truths, oh man! my lips relate; 
 This is thy life to come, and this is fate.’ 
 
188 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 *‘To whom, unmoved: ‘If this the gods prepare, ” 
 What Heaven ordains, the wise with courage bear. • J:, 
 But say, why yonder on the lonely strands, 
 
 Unmindful of her son, Anticlea stands? > 
 
 Why to the ground she bends her downcast eye? 
 
 Why is she silent while her son is nigh? ' "o 
 
 The latent cause, oh sacred seer, reveal!’ ' * T 
 
 “‘Nor this,’ replies the seer, ‘will I conceal. 
 
 Know, to the spectres that thy beverage taste, 180 
 
 The scenes of life recur, and actions past: .,r 
 
 They, seal’d with truth, return the sure reply; ' 
 
 The rest, repel’d, a train oblivious fly.’ Y 
 
 “The phantom-prophet ceased, and sunk from sight 
 To the black palace of eternal night. 
 
 “Still in the dark abodes of death I stood, 
 
 When near Anticlea moved, and drank the blood. ' 
 Straight all the mother in her soul awakes, 
 
 And, owning her Ulysses, thus she speaks: 
 
 “‘Com’st thou, my son, alive, to realms beneath, 190' 
 The dolesome realms of darkness and of death? ,'"1^ 
 Com’st thou alive from pure, ethereal day ? ' ^ 
 
 Dire is the region, dismal is the way; ^ 
 
 Here lakes profound, there floods oppose their waves, , ^ 
 There the wide sea with all his billows raves! 
 
 Or (since to dust proud Troy submits her towers) 
 
 Com’st thou a wanderer from the Phrygian shores? 
 
 Or say, since honour call’d thee to the field. 
 
 Hast thou thy Ithaca, thy bride, beheld?’ 
 
 “Source of my life,’ I cried, ‘from earth I fly 
 To seek Tiresias in the nether sky. 
 
 To learn my doom; for, toss’d from wo to wo, 
 
 In every land Ulysses finds a foe: 
 
 Nor have these eyes beheld my native shores, 
 
 Since in the dust proud Troy submits her towers. 
 
 But, when thy soul from her sweet mansion fled, 
 
 Say, what distemper gave thee to the dead? 
 
 Has life’s fair lamp declined by slow decays, 
 
 Or swift expired it in a sudden blaze? 
 
 J] 
 
 200 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 189 
 
 Say, if my sire, good old Laertes, lives? 210 
 
 If yet Telemachus, my son, survives? 
 
 Say, by his rule is my dominion a^ved. 
 
 Or crush’d by traitors with an iron rod? 
 
 Say, if my spouse maintains her royal trust; 
 
 Though tempted, chaste, and obstinately just? 
 
 Or, if no more her absent lord she wails. 
 
 But the false woman o’er the wife prevails.’ 
 
 “ Thus I, and thus the parent-shade returns: 
 
 “‘Thee, ever thee, thy faithful consort mourns: 
 
 Whether the night descends or day prevails, > 220 
 
 Thee she by night, and thee by day bewails. 
 
 Thee in Telemachus thy realm obeys; 
 
 In sacred groves celestial rites he pays. 
 
 And shares the banquet in superior state. 
 
 Graced with such honours as become the great. 
 
 Thy sire in solitude foments his care: 
 
 The court is joyless, for thou art not there! 
 
 No costly carpets raise his hoary head. 
 
 No rich embroidery shines to grace his bed; 
 
 Ev’n when keen winter freezes in the skies, 230 
 
 Rank’d with his slaves, on earth the monarch lies: 
 
 Deep are his sighs, his visage pale, his dress 
 The garb of wo and habit of distress. 
 
 And when the autumn takes his annual round. 
 
 The leafy honours scattering on the ground; 
 
 Regardless of his years, abroad he lies. 
 
 His bed the leaves, his canopy the skies. 
 
 Thus cares on cares his painful days consume. 
 
 And bow his age with sorrow to the tomb!— 
 
 For thee, my son, I wept my life away; 240 
 
 For thee through hell’s eternal dungeons stray; 
 
 Nor came my fate by lingering pains and slow. 
 
 Nor bent the silver-shafted queen her bow; 
 
 No dire disease bereaved me of my breath; 
 
 ' Thou, thou, my son, wert my disease and death: 
 
 Unkindly with my love my son conspired, 
 
 1 For thee I lived, for absent thee expired.’ 
 
190 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 “Thrice in my arms I strove her shade to bind, 
 
 Thrice through my arms she slipp’d like empty wind, 
 
 Or dreams, the vain illusions of the mind. 250 
 
 Wild with despair, I shed a copious tide 
 Of flowing tears, and thus with sighs replied: 
 
 “ ‘ Fliest thou, loved shade, while I thus fondly mourn! 
 Turn to my arms, to my embraces turn! 
 
 Is it, ye powers that smile at human harms! 
 
 Too great a bliss to weep within her arms! 
 
 Or has hell’s queen an empty image sent. 
 
 That wretched I might ev’n my joys lament?’ 
 
 “ ‘ Oh, son of wo!’ the pensive shade rejoin’d, 
 
 ‘Oh, most inured to grief of all mankind! 260 
 
 ’Tis not the queen of hell who thee deceives; 
 
 All, all are such, when life the body leaves: 
 
 No more the substance of the man remains. 
 
 Nor bounds the blood along the purple veins: 
 
 These the funereal flames in atoms bear, 
 
 To wander with the wind in empty air: 
 
 While th’ impassive soul reluctant flies. 
 
 Like a vain dream to these infernal skies. 
 
 But from the dark dominions speed thy way. 
 
 And climb the steep ascent to upper day, 270 
 
 To thy chaste bride the wondrous story tell. 
 
 The woes, the horrors, and the laws of hell.’ 
 
 “Thus while she spoke, in swarms hell’s empress brings 
 Daughters and wives of heroes and of kings; 
 
 Thick, and more thick they gather round the blood, 
 
 Ghost throng’d on ghost (a dire assembly) stood 1 
 Dauntless my sword I seize: the airy crew. 
 
 Swift as it flash’d along the gloom, withdrew; 
 
 Then shade to shade in mutual forms succeeds. 
 
 Her race recounts, and their illustrious deeds. 280 
 
 “Tyro began, whom great Salmoneus bred. 
 
 The royal partner of famed Cretheus’ bed. 
 
 For fair Enipeus, as from fruitful urns 
 He pours his watery store, the virgin burns: 
 
 Smooth flows the gentle stream with wanton pride. 
 
 And in soft mazes rolls a silver tide. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 191 
 
 As on his banks the maid enamour’d roves, 
 
 The monarch of the deep beholds and loves; 
 
 In her Enipeus’ form and borrow’d charms, 
 
 The amorous god descends into her arms: 290 
 
 Around, a spacious arch of waves he throws, 
 
 And high in air the liquid mountain rose: 
 
 Thus, in surrounding floods conceal’d, he proves 
 The pleasing transport, and completes his loves. 
 
 Then, softly sighing, he the fair address’d. 
 
 And, as he spoke, her tender hand he press’d: 
 
 “‘Hail, happy nymph! no vulgar births are owed 
 To the prolific raptures of a god: 
 
 Lo I when nine times the moon renews her horn, 
 
 Two brother-heroes shall from thee be born: 300 
 
 Thy early care the future worthies claim. 
 
 To point them to the arduous paths of fame; 
 
 But in thy breast th’ important truth conceal. 
 
 Nor dare the secret of a god reveal: 
 
 For know, thou Neptune view’st! and at my nod 
 Earth trembles, and the waves confess their god.’ 
 
 “ He added not, but mounting, spurn’d the plain. 
 
 Then plunged into the chambers of the main. 
 
 “Now in the time’s full process forth she brings 
 Jove’s dread vicegerents in two future kings; 310 
 
 O’er proud lolchos Pelias stretch’d his reign. 
 
 And godlike Neleus ruled the Pylian plain: 
 
 Then, fruitful, to her Cretheus’ royal bed 
 She gallant Pheres and famed iEson bred: 
 
 From the same fountain Amythaon rose. 
 
 Pleased with the din of war, and noble shouts of foes. 
 
 “ There moved Antiop^, with haughty charms. 
 
 Who bless’d th’ almighty Thunderer in her arms: 
 
 Hence sprung Amphion, hence brave Zethus came, 
 Founders of Thebes, and men of mighty name; 320 
 Though bold in open field, they yet surround 
 The town with walls, and mound inject on mound; 
 
 Here ramparts stood, there towers rose high in air. 
 
 And here through seven wide portals rush’d the war. 
 
192 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 “ There with soft step the fair Alcmena trod, 
 
 Who bore Alcides to the thundering god: 
 
 And Megara, who charm’d the son of Jove, 
 
 And soften’d his stern soul to tender love. 
 
 “Sullen and sour, with discontented mien, 
 
 Jocasta frown’d, th’ incestuous Theban queen; 330 
 
 With her own son she join’d in nuptial bands. 
 
 Though father’s blood imbrued his murderous hands: ' 
 The gods and men the dire offence detest, * 
 
 The gods with all their furies rend his breast: ^ 
 
 In lofty Thebes he wore th’ imperial crown, 
 
 A pompous wretch, accursed upon a throne. 
 
 The wife, self-murder’d, from a beam depends. 
 
 And her foul soul to blackest hell descends: * 
 
 Thence to her son the choicest plagues she brings, 
 
 And his fiends haunt him with a thousand stings. 340 
 “ And now the beauteous Chloris I descry, 
 
 A lovely shade, Amphion’s youngest joy! 
 
 With gifts unnumber’d, Neleus sought her arms. 
 
 Nor paid too dearly for unequal’d charms; 
 
 Great in Orchomenus, in Pylos great; 
 
 He sway’d the sceptre with imperial state. ' 
 
 Three gallant sons the joyful monarch told. 
 
 Sage Nestor, Periclymenus the bold. 
 
 And Chromius last: but of the softer race, ‘ 
 
 One nymph alone, a miracle of grace. 350 
 
 Kings on their thrones for lovely Pero burn; 
 
 The sire denies, and kings rejected mourn. 
 
 To him alone the beauteous prize he yields 
 Whose arm should ravish from Phylacian fields 
 The herds of Iphiclus, detain’d in wrong; 
 
 Wild, furious herds, unconquerably strong! 
 
 This dares a seer, but naught the seer prevails; 
 
 In beauty’s cause illustriously he fails. 
 
 Twelve moons the foe the captive youth detains 
 In painful dungeons, and coercive chains; 
 
 The foe at last, from durance where he lay, 
 
 His art revering, gave him back to day; 
 
 3G0 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 193 
 
 Won by prophetic knowledge to fulfil 
 The steadfast purpose of th’ Almighty will. 
 
 “With graceful port advancing, now I spied 
 Leda the fair, the godlike Tyndar’s bride: 
 
 Hence Pollux sprung, who wields with furious sway 
 The deathful gauntlet, matchless in the fray; 
 
 And Castor, glorious on th’ embattled plain, 
 
 Curbs the proud steed, reluctant to the rein: 870 
 
 By turns they visit this ethereal sky. 
 
 And live alternate, and alternate die: 
 
 In hell beneath, on earth, in heaven above. 
 
 Reign the twin-gods, the favourite sons of Jove. 
 
 “There Ephimedia trod the gloomy plain. 
 
 Who charm’d the monarch of the boundless main: 
 
 Hence Ephialtes, hence stern Otus sprung. 
 
 More fierce than giants, more than giants strong: 
 
 The earth, o’erburden’d, groan’d beneath their weight. 
 None but Orion e’er surpass’d their height: 380 
 
 The wondrous youths had scarce nine winters told, 
 
 When high in air, tremendous to behold, 
 
 Nine ells aloft they rear’d their towering head. 
 
 And full nine cubits broad their shoulders spread. 
 
 Proud of their strength and more than mortal size, 
 
 The gods they challenge, and affect the skies: 
 
 Heaved on Olympus tottering Ossa stood; 
 
 On Ossa, Pelion nods with all his wood. 
 
 Such were they youths! had they to manhood grown, 
 Almighty Jove had trembled on his throne: 390 
 
 But, ere the harvest of the beard began 
 To bristle on the chin, and promise man. 
 
 His shafts Apollo aim’d; at once they found, 
 
 And stretch’d the giant monsters o’er the ground. 
 
 “There mournful Phaedra with sad Procris moves. 
 
 Both beauteous shades, both hapless in their loves; 
 
 And near them walk’d, with solemn pace and slow. 
 
 Sad Ariadn4, partner of their wo: 
 
 The royal Minos Ariadn6 bred. 
 
 She Theseus loved, from Crete with Theseus fled: 
 
 9 N 
 
 400 
 
194 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 Swift to the Dian isle the hero flies, 
 
 And tow’rds his Athens bears the lovely prize; 
 
 There Bacchus with fierce rage Diana fires, 
 
 The goddess aims her shaft, the nymph expires. 
 
 “There Clymen^ and Mera I behold, 
 
 There Eriphyl^ weeps, who loosely sold 
 Her lord, her honour, for the lust of gold. 
 
 But should I all recount, the night would fail. 
 
 Unequal to the melancholy tale; 
 
 And all-composing rest my nature craves, 410 
 
 Here in the court, or yonder on the waves; 
 
 In you I trust, and in the heavenly powers. 
 
 To land Ulysses on his native shores.” 
 
 He ceased; but left so charming on their ear 
 His voice, that, listening still, they seem’d to hear. 
 
 Till rising up, Aretd silence broke, 
 
 Stretch’d out her snowy hand, and thus she spoke: 
 
 “What wondrous man Heaven sends us in our guest! 
 Through all his woes the hero shines confess’d; 
 
 Hif; comely port, his ample frame, express 420 
 
 A manly air, majestic in distress. 
 
 He, as my guest, is my peculiar care: 
 
 You share the pleasure, then in bounty share; 
 
 To worth in misery a reverence pay. 
 
 And with a generous hand reward his stay; 
 
 For since kind Heaven with wealth our realm has bless’d. 
 Give it to Heaven by aiding the distress’d. 
 
 Then sage Echeneus, whose grave, reverend brow 
 The hand of time had silver’d o’er with snow, 
 
 Mature in wisdom,rose: “Your words,” he cries, 430 
 “Demand obedience, for your words are wise. 
 
 But let our king direct the glorious way 
 To generous acts: our part is to obey.” 
 
 “While life informs these limbs,” the king replied, 
 “Well to deserve, be all my cares employ’d: 
 
 But here this night the royal guest detain. 
 
 Till the sun flames along th’ ethereal plain. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 195 
 
 Be it my task to send with ample stores 
 The stranger from our hospitable shores: 
 
 Tread you my steps! ’Tis mine to lead the race, 440 
 The first in glory, as the first in place.” 
 
 To whom the prince: “This night with joy I stay: 
 
 Oh, monarch, great in virtue as in sway! 
 
 If thou the circling year my stay control, 
 
 To raise a bounty noble as thy soul; 
 
 The circling year I wait, with ampler stores 
 And fitter pomp to hail my native shores: 
 
 Then by my realms due homage would be paid! 
 
 For wealthy kings are loyally obey’d!” 
 
 “Oh king! for such thou art, and sure thy blood 450 
 Through veins” (he cried) “of royal fathers flow’d; 
 
 Unlike those vagrants who on falsehood live, 
 
 Skill’d in smooth tales, and artful to deceive: 
 
 Thy better soul abhors the liar’s part. 
 
 Wise is thy voice, and noble is thy heart. 
 
 Thy words like music every breast control. 
 
 Steal through the ear, and win upon the soul; 
 
 Soft as some song divine, thy story flows, 
 
 Nor better could the Muse recount thy woes. 
 
 “But say, upon the dark and dismal coast, 460 
 
 Saw’st thou the worthies of the Grecian host ? 
 
 The godlike leaders who, in battle slain. 
 
 Fell before Troy, and nobly press’d the plain ?. 
 
 And, lo I a length, of night behind remains. 
 
 The evening stars still mount th’ ethereal plains* 
 
 Thy tale with raptures I' could hear thee tell. 
 
 Thy woes on earth, the wondrous scenes in hell, 
 
 Till in the vault of heaven the*stars decay. 
 
 And the sky reddens with the rising day.” 
 
 “Oh, worthy of the power the gods assign’d,’-’ 470 
 Ulysses thus replies^ “a king in mind I» 
 
 Since yet the early hour of night allows 
 Time for discourse, and time for soft repose. 
 
 If scenes of misery can entertain. 
 
 Woes I unfold, of woes a dismal train. 
 
196 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 Prepare to hear of murder and of blood: 
 
 Of godlike heroes who uninjured stood 
 Amidst a war of spears in foreign lands, 
 
 Yet bled at home, and bled by female hands. 
 
 “Now summon’d Proserpine to hell’s black hall 480 
 The heroine shades; they vanish’d at her call. 
 
 When, lo! advanced thd'forms of heroes slain 
 By stern iEgysthus, a majestic train; 
 
 And, high above the rest, Atrides press’d the plain. 
 
 He quaff’d the gore; and straight his soldier knew. 
 
 And from his eyes pour’d down the tender dew; 
 
 His arms he stretch’d; his arms the touch deceive. 
 
 Nor in the fond embrace, embraces give: 
 
 His substance vanish’d, and his strength decay’d. 
 
 Now all Atrides is an empty shade. 490 
 
 “Moved at the sight, I for a space resign’d 
 To soft affliction all my manly mind; 
 
 At last with tears: ‘Oh, what relentless doom. 
 
 Imperial phantom, bow’d thee to the tomb? 
 
 Say, while the sea, and while the tempest raves. 
 
 Has Fate oppress’d thee in the roaring waves, 
 
 Or nobly seized thee in the dire alarms 
 Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms!’ 
 
 “The ghost returns: ‘Oh, chief of human kind 
 For active courage and a patient mind! 500 
 
 Nor while the sea, nor while the tempest raves. 
 
 Has Fate oppress’d me on the roaring waves! 
 
 Nor nobly seized me in the dire alarms 
 Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms. 
 
 Stabb’d by a murderous hand, Atrides died; 
 
 A foul adulterer, and a faithless bride; 
 
 Ev’n in my mirth, and at the friendly feast, 
 
 O’er the full bowl, the traitor stabb’d his guest; 
 
 Thus by the gory arm of slaughter falls 
 
 The stately ox, and bleeds within the stalls. 510 
 
 But not with me the direful murder ends. 
 
 These, these expired! their crime, they were my friends: 
 Thick as the boars, which some luxurious lord 
 Kills for the feast, to crown the nuptial board. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 197 
 
 When war has thunder’d with its loudest storms, 
 
 Death thou hast seen in all her ghastly forms; . 
 
 In duel met her on the listed ground, 
 
 When hand to hand they wound returned for wound; 
 
 But never have thy eyes astonish’d view’d 
 
 So vile a deed, so dire a scene of blood. 520 
 
 Ev’n in the flow of joy, when now the bowl 
 
 Glows in our veins, and opens every soul. 
 
 We groan, we faint; with blood the dome is dyed. 
 
 And o’er the pavement floats the dreadful tide: 
 
 Her breast all gore, with lamentable cries. 
 
 The bleeding, innocent Cassandra dies! 
 
 Then, though pale death froze cold in every vein. 
 
 My sword I strive to wield, but strive in vain: 
 
 Nor did my traitress wife these eyelids close. 
 
 Or decently in death my limbs compose. 530 
 
 Oh, woman, woman 1 when to ill thy mind _ 
 
 Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend: 
 
 And such was mine! who basely plunged her sword 
 Through the fond bosom where she reign’d adored! 
 
 Alas! I hoped, the toils of war o’ercome. 
 
 To meet soft quiet and repose at home: 
 
 Delusive hope!—Oh, wife! thy deeds disgrace 
 The perjured sex, and blacken all the race; 
 
 And should posterity one virtuous find. 
 
 Name Clytemnestra, they will curse the kind.’ 540 
 
 “‘Oh, injured shade!’ I cried, ‘what mighty woes 
 To thy imperial race from woman rose! 
 
 By woman here thou tread’st this mournful strand. 
 
 And Greece by woman lies a desert land.’ 
 
 “‘Warn’d by my ills, beware!’ the shade replies, 
 
 ‘Nor trust the sex that is so rarely wise; 
 
 When earnest to explore thy secret breast. 
 
 Unfold some trifle, but conceal the rest. 
 
 But in thy consort cease to fear a foe. 
 
 For thee she feels sincerity of wo: 
 
 When Troy first bled beneath the Grecian arms. 
 
 She shone unrival’d with a blaze of charms; 
 
 550 
 
198 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 Thy infant son her fragrant bosom press’d, 
 
 Hung at her knee, or wanton’d at her breast: 
 
 But now the years a numerous train have ran; 
 
 The blooming boy is ripened into man: 
 
 Thy eyes shall see him burn with noble fire. 
 
 The sire shall bless his son, the son his sire: 
 
 But my Orestes never met these eyes, 
 
 Without one look the murder’d father dies; 5 b 0 
 
 Then from a wretched friend this wisdom learn, 
 
 Ev’n to thy queen disguised, unknown, return; 
 
 For since of womankind so few are just. 
 
 Think all are false, nor ev’n the faithful trust. 
 
 But say, resides my son in royal port, 
 
 In rich Orchomenos, or Sparta’s court? 
 
 Or say in Pyle? for yet he views the light, 
 
 Nor glides a phantom through the realms of night.’ 
 
 “Then I: ‘Thy suit is vain, nor can I say 
 If yet he breathes in realms of cheerful day; 570 
 
 Or pale or wan beholds these nether skies: 
 
 Truth I revere, for wisdom never lies.’ 
 
 “ Thus in a tide of tears our sorrows flow. 
 
 And add new horror to the realms of wo; 
 
 Till side by side along the dreary coast 
 Advanced Achilles’ and Patroclus’ ghost, 
 
 A friendly pair! near these the Pylian* stray’d. 
 
 And towering Ajax, an illustrious shade! 
 
 War was his joy, and pleased with loud alarms. 
 
 None but Pelides brighter shone in arms. 580 
 
 Through the thick gloom his friend Achilles knew. 
 
 And, as he speaks, the tears descend in dew: 
 
 “‘Com’st thou alive to view the Stygian bounds. 
 
 Where the wan spectres walk eternal rounds: 
 
 Nor fear’st the dark and dismal waste to tread. 
 
 Throng’d with pale ghosts, familiar with the dead?’ 
 
 “To whom, with sighs: ‘I pass these dreadful gates 
 To seek the Theban, and consult the Fates: 
 
 * Antilochus. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XL 
 
 199 
 
 For still, distress’d, I rove from coast to coast. 
 
 Lost to my friends, and to my country lost. 
 
 But sure the eye of Time beholds no name 
 So bless’d as thine in all the rolls of fame: 
 
 Alive we hail’d thee with our guardian gods, 
 
 And dead, thou rul’st a king in these abodes.’ 
 
 “‘Talk not of ruling in this dolorous gloom. 
 
 Nor think vain words,’ he cried, ‘can ease my doom. 
 Rather I chose laboriously to bear 
 A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air, 
 
 A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread. 
 
 Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead. 
 
 But say, if in my steps my son proceeds. 
 
 And emulates his godlike father’s deeds? 
 
 If at the clash of arms, and shout of foes. 
 
 Swells his bold heart, his bosom nobly glows? 
 
 Say, if my sire, the reverend Peleus, reigns, 
 
 Great in his Phthia, and his throne maintains; 
 
 Or, weak and old, my youthful arm demands, 
 
 To fix the sceptre steadfast in his hands? 
 
 Oh, might the lamp of life rekindled burn. 
 
 And death release me from the silent urn! 
 
 This arm, that thundered o’er the Phrygian plain, ^ 
 And swell’d the ground with mountains of the slain. 
 Should vindicate my injured father’s fame. 
 
 Crush the proud rebel, and assert his claim.’ 
 
 “‘Illustrious shade!’ I cried, ‘of Peleus’ fates 
 No circumstance the voice of fame relates: 
 
 But hear with pleased attention the renown, 
 
 The wars and wisdom of thy gallant son. 
 
 With me from Scyros to the field of fame. 
 
 Radiant in arms, the blooming hero came. 
 
 When Greece assembled all her hundred states, 
 
 To ripen counsels and decide debates; 
 
 Heavens! how he charm’d us with a flow of sense. 
 And won the heart with manly eloquence! 
 
 He first was seen of all the peers to rise. 
 
 The third in wisdom where they all were wise; 
 
 590 
 
 600 
 
 610 
 
 620 
 
200 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 But when, to try the fortune of the day, 
 
 Host moved tow’rd host in terrible array. 
 
 Before the van, impatient for the fight. 
 
 With martial port he strode, and stern delight: G30 
 
 Heaps strew d on heaps beneath his faulchion groan’d. 
 And monuments of dead deform’d the ground. 
 
 The time would fail should I in order tell 
 
 What foes were vanquish’d, and what nunibers fell: 
 
 How, lost through love, Eurypylus was slain. 
 
 And round him bled his bold Ceta 3 an train. 
 
 To Troy no hero came of nobler line. 
 
 Or, if of nobler, Memnon, it was thine. 
 
 When Ilion in the horse received her doom. 
 
 And unseen armies ambush’d in its womb, 640 
 
 Greece gave her latent warriors to my care, 
 
 ’Twas mine on Troy to pour th’ imprison’d war; 
 
 Then, when the boldest bosom beat with fear_ 
 
 When the stern eyes of heroes dropp’d a tear_ 
 
 Fierce in his look his ardent valour glow’d. 
 
 Flush’d in his cheek, or sallied in his blood; 
 
 Indignant in the dark recess he stands. 
 
 Pants for the battle, and the war demands: 
 
 His voice breathed death, and with a martial air 
 He grasp’d his sword, and shook his glittering spear. 650 
 And when the gods our arms with conquest crown’d. 
 When Tioy s proud bulwarks smoked upon the ground, 
 Greece to reward her soldier’s gallant toils. 
 
 Heap’d high his navy with unnumber’d spoils. 
 
 Thus, great in glory, from the din of war. 
 
 Safe he return’d, without one hostile scar; 
 
 Though spears in iron tempests rain’d around. 
 
 Yet innocent they play’d, and guiltless of a wound.’ 
 
 ‘•While yet I spoke, the shade with transport glow’d. 
 Rose in his majesty, and nobler trod: qqq 
 
 AYith haughty stalk he sought the distant glades 
 Of warrior kings, and join’d th’ illustrious shades. 
 
 “Now, without number, ghost by ghost arose, 
 
 All wailing with unutterable woes. 
 
201 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 Alone, apart, in discontented mood, 
 
 A gloomy shade the sullen Ajax stood; 
 
 For ever sad, with proud disdain he pined. 
 
 And the lost arms for ever stung his mind; 
 
 Though to the contest Thetis gave the laws. 
 
 And Pallas, by the Trojans, judged the cause. 070 
 
 Oh, why was I victorious in the strife? 
 
 Oh, dear-bought,honour with so brave a life! 
 
 With him the strength of wai', the soldier’s pride, 
 
 Our second hope to great Achilles, died! 
 
 Touch d at the sight, from tears I scarce refrain, 
 
 And tender sorrow thrills in every vein; 
 
 Pensive and sad I stand, at length accost 
 With accents mild th’ inexorable ghost: 
 
 Still burns thy rage? and can brave souls resent * 
 Ev’n after death? Relent, great shade, relent! 680 
 
 Peiish those arms which, by the gods’ decree. 
 
 Accursed our army with the loss of thee! 
 
 With thee we fell; Greece wept thy hapless fates. 
 
 And shook astonish’d through her hundred states; 
 
 Not more, when great Achilles press’d the ground. 
 
 And breathed his manly spirit through the wound. 
 
 Oh, deem thy fall not owed to man’s decree, 
 
 Jove hated Greece, and punish’d Greece in thee! 
 
 Turn then, oh, peaceful turn! thy wrath control. 
 
 And calm the raging tempest of thy soul.’ 690 
 
 “While yet I speak, the shade disdains to stay. 
 
 In silence turns, and sullen stalks away. 
 
 “Touch’d at his sour retreat, through deepest night. 
 Through hell’s black bounds I had pursued his flight. 
 
 And forced the stubborn spectre to reply; 
 
 But wondrous visions drew my curious eye. 
 
 High on a throne, tremendous to behold. 
 
 Stern Minos waves a mace of burnish’d gold; 
 
 Around, ten thousand thousand spectres stand 
 Through the wide dome of Dis, a trembling band. 700 
 Still as they plead, the fatal lots he rolls, 
 
 Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. 
 
 9 # 
 
202 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 “There huge Orion, of portentous size, 
 
 Swift through the gloom a giant-hunter flies; 
 
 A ponderous mace of brass with direful sway 
 Aloft he whirls, to crush the savage prey; 
 
 Stern beasts in trains that by his truncheon fell, 
 
 Now grisly forms, shoot o’er the lawns of hell. 
 
 “There Tytyus, large and long, in fetters bound, 
 O’erspreads nine acres of infernal ground; 710 
 
 Two ravenous vultures, furious for their food, 
 
 Scream o’er the fiend, and riot in his blood; 
 
 Incessant gore the liver in his breast, 
 
 Th’ immortal liver grows, and gives th’ immortal feast. 
 For as o’er Panop^’s enamel’d plains 
 Latona journey’d to the Pythian fanes. 
 
 With haughty love th’ audacious monster strove 
 To force the goddess, and to rival Jove. 
 
 “There Tantalus along the Stygian bounds 
 Pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds); 
 Ev’n in the circling flood refreshment craves, 721 
 
 And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves; 
 
 When to the water he his lip applies, 
 
 Back from his lip the treacherous water flies. 
 
 Above, beneath, around his hapless head. 
 
 Trees of all kinds delicious fruitage spread; 
 
 The figs, sky-dyed, a purple hue disclose. 
 
 Green looks the olive, the pomegranate glows, 
 
 There dangling pears exalted scents unfold, 
 
 And yellow apples ripen into gold: 730 
 
 The fruit he strives to seize; but blasts arise. 
 
 Toss it on high, and whirl it to the skies. 
 
 “I turn’d my eye, and, as I turn’d, survey’d 
 A mournful vision! the Sisyphian shade; 
 
 With many a weary step, and many a groan. 
 
 Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; 
 
 The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, 
 
 Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. 
 Again the restless orb his toil renews, 
 
 Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews. 740 
 
THE odyssey; book XI.' 
 
 203 
 
 “Now I the strength of Hercules behold, 
 
 A towering spectre, of gigantic mould, 
 
 A shadowy form! for high in heaven’s abodes 
 Himself resides, a god among the gods; 
 
 There, in the bright assemblies of the skies. 
 
 He nectar quaffs, and Heb^ crowns his joys. 
 
 Here hovering ghosts, like fowl, his shade surround, 
 
 And clang their pinions with terrific sound; 
 
 Gloomy as night he stands, in act to throw 
 
 Th’ aerial arrow from the twanging bow. 750 
 
 Around his breast a wondrous zone is roll’d. 
 
 Where woodland monsters grin in fretted gold. 
 
 The sullen lions sternly seem to roar. 
 
 The bear to growl, to foam the tusky boar; 
 
 There War, and Havoc, and Destruction, stood. 
 
 And vengeful Murder, red with human blood. 
 
 Thus terribly adorn’d the figures shine. 
 
 Inimitably wrought with skill divine. 
 
 The mighty ghost advanced with awful look, 
 
 And, turning his grim visage, sternly spoke: 760 
 
 “‘Oh, exercised in grief! by arts refined! 
 
 Oh, taught to bear the wrongs of base mankind! 
 
 Such, such was I! still toss’d from care to care. 
 
 While in your world I drew the vital air! 
 
 Ev’n I, who from the Lord of Thunders rose. 
 
 Bore toils and dangers, and a weight of woes; 
 
 To a base monarch still a slave confined, 
 
 (The hardest bondage to a generous mind!) 
 
 Down to these worlds I trod the dismal way, 
 
 And dragg’d the three-mouth’d dog to upper day', 770 
 Ev’n hell I conquer’d through the friendly aid 
 Of Maia’s offspring and the martial maid.’ 
 
 “Thus he; nor deign’d for our reply to stay, 
 
 But, turning, stalk’d with giant-strides away. 
 
 “Curious to view the kings of ancient days, 
 
 The mighty dead that live in endless praise, 
 
 Resolved I stand; and haply had survey d 
 The godlike Theseus, and Pirithous’ shade; 
 
204 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XI. 
 
 But swarms of spectres rose from deepest hell, 
 
 With bloodless visage, and with hideous yell, 780 
 
 They scream, they shriek; sad groans and dismal sounds 
 Stun my scared ears, and pierce hell’s utmost bounds. 
 
 No more my heart the dismal din sustains. 
 
 And my cold blood hangs shivering in my veins; 
 
 Lest Gorgon, rising from th’ infernal lakes. 
 
 With horrors arm’d, and curls of hissing snakes, 
 
 Should fix me stiffen’d at the monstrous sight, 
 
 A stony image, in eternal night! 
 
 Straight from the direful coast to purer air 
 I speed my flight, and to my mates repair. 790 
 
 My mates ascend the ship; they strike their oars; 
 
 The mountains lessen, and retreat the shores: 
 
 Swift o’er the waves we fly; the freshening gales 
 Sing through the shrouds, and stretch the swelling sails.” 
 
BOOK XII. 
 
 I 
 
 The Sirens; Scylla and Charyhdis. 
 
 Argument. —He relates how, after his return from the shades, he was scut 
 by Circe on his voyag'e, by the coast of the Sirens, and by the strait of 
 Scylla and Charyhdis: the manner in which he escaped those dangers: 
 how, being cast on the island of Trinacria, his companions destroyed the 
 oxen of the Sun: the vengeance That followed; how all perished by ship¬ 
 wreck, except himself, who, swimming on the mast of the ship, arrived on 
 the island of Calypso : with which his relation concludes. 
 
 “Thus o’er the rolling surge the vessel flies, 
 
 Till from the waves the iEsean hills arise. 
 
 Here the gay morn resides in radiant bowers, 
 
 Here keeps her revels with the dancing Hours; 
 
 Here Phoebus, rising in th’ ethereal way. 
 
 Through heaven’s bright portals pours the beamy day. 
 
 At once we fix our halsers on the land, 
 
 At once descend, and press the desert sand: 
 
 There, worn and wasted, lose our cares in sleep. 
 
 To the hoarse murmurs of the rolling deep. 10 
 
 “Soon as the morn restored the day, we paid 
 Sepulchral honours to Elpenor’s shade. 
 
 Now by the axe the rushing forest bends, 
 
 And the huge pile along the shore ascends. 
 
 Around we stand, a melancholy train, 
 
 And a loud groan reechoes from the main. 
 
 Fierce o’er the pyre, by fanning breezes spread, 
 
 The hungry flame devours the silent dead. 
 
 A rising tomb, the silent dead to grace. 
 
 Fast by the roaring of the main we place; 20 
 
 The rising tomb a lofty column bore. 
 
 And high above it rose the tapering oar. 
 
 “Meantime, the goddess * our return survey’d 
 From the pale ghosts, and hell’s tremendous shade. 
 
 * Circfe. 
 
206 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 Swift she descends: a train of nymphs divine 
 Bear the rich viands and the generous wine: 
 
 In act to speak, the Power of magic stands, 
 
 And graceful thus accosts the listening bands: 
 
 “‘Oh, sons of wo! decreed by adverse fates 
 Alive to pass through hell’s eternal gates! 30 
 
 All, soon or late, are doom’d that path to tread; 
 
 More wretched you, twice number’d with the dead 1 
 This day adjourn your cares, exalt your souls. 
 
 Indulge the taste, and drain the sparkling bowls; 
 
 And when the morn unveils her saffron ray. 
 
 Spread your broad sails, and plough the liquid way. 
 
 Lo 1 I this night, your faithful guide, explain 
 Your woes by land, your dangers on the main.’ 
 
 “The goddess spoke: in feasts we waste the day. 
 
 Till Phoebus downward plunged his burning ray; 40 
 Then sabb night ascends, and balmy rest 
 Seals every eye, and calms the troubled breast. 
 
 Then, curious, she commands me to relate 
 The dreadful scenes of Pluto’s dreary state. 
 
 She sat in silence while the tale I tell. 
 
 The wondrous visions, and the laws of hell. 
 
 “Then thus: ‘The lot ofTnan the gods dispose; 
 
 These ills are past: now hear thy future woes. 
 
 O prince, attend! some favouring power be kind, 
 
 And print th’ important story on thy mind! 50 
 
 “Next, where the Sirens dwell, you plough the seas; 
 Their song is death, and makes destruction please. 
 Unbless’d the man, whom music wins to stay 
 Nigh the cursed shore, and listen to the lay; 
 
 No more that wretch shall view the joys of life. 
 
 His blooming offspring, or his beauteous wife: 
 
 In verdant meads they sport; and wide around 
 Lie human bones, that whiten all the ground; 
 
 The ground polluted floats with human gore. 
 
 And human carnage taints the dreadful shore. 
 
 Fly swift the dangerous coast: let every ear 
 Be stopp’d against the song! ’tis death to hear! 
 
 60 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 207 
 
 Firm to the mast with chains thyself be bound, 
 
 Nor trust thy virtue to th’ enchanting sound. 
 
 If, mad with transport, freedom thou demand. 
 
 Be every fetter strain’d, and added band to band. 
 
 These seas o’erpass’d, be wise! But I refrain 
 To mark distinct thy voyage o’er the main: 
 
 New horrors rise! let prudence be thy guide. 
 
 And guard thy various passage through the tide. 70 
 
 High o’er the main two rocks exalt their brow. 
 
 The boiling billows thundering roll below; 
 
 Through the vast waves the dreadful wonders move. 
 Hence named Erratic by the gods above. 
 
 No bird of air, no dove of swiftest wing. 
 
 That bears ambrosia to th’ ethereal king. 
 
 Shuns the dire rocks: in vain she cuts the skies. 
 
 The dire rocks meet, and crush her as she flies; 
 
 Not the fleet bark, vrhen prosperous breezes play. 
 
 Ploughs o’er that roaring surge its desperate way; 80 
 
 O’erwhelm’d it sinks: while round a smoke expires. 
 
 And the waves flashing seem to burn with fires. 
 
 Scarce the famed Argo pass’d these raging floods. 
 
 The sacred Argo, fill’d with demi-gods! 
 
 Ev’n she had sunk, but Jove’s imperial bride 
 Wing’d her fleet sail, and push’d her o’er the tide. 
 
 High in the air the rock its summits shrouds 
 In brooding tempests, and in rolling clouds: 
 
 Loud storms around and mists eternal rise. 
 
 Beat its bleak brow, and intercept the skies. 90 
 
 When all the broad expansion, bright with day. 
 
 Glows with th’ autumnal or the summer ray, 
 
 The summer and the autumn glow in vain. 
 
 The sky for ever lowers, for ever clouds remain. 
 Impervious to the step of man it stands, 
 
 Tho’ borne by twenty feet, tho’ arm’d with twenty hands; 
 Smooth as the polish of the mirror rise 
 The slippery sides, and shoot intb the skies. 
 
 Full in the centre of this rock display’d, 
 
 A vawnin^ cavern casts a dreadful shade: 
 
 100 
 
208 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow, 
 
 Sent with full force, could reach the depth below. 
 
 Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends. 
 
 And the dire passage down to hell descends. 
 
 Oh, fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails, 
 
 Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales; 
 
 Here Scylla bellows from her dire abodes. 
 
 Tremendous pest, abhorr’d by men and gods! 
 
 Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar 
 
 The whelps of lions in the midnight hour. 110 
 
 Twelve feet, deform’d and foul, the fiend dispreads; 
 
 Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads; 
 
 Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth: 
 
 Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death; 
 
 Her parts obscene the raging billows hide; 
 
 Her bosom terribly o’erlooks the tide. 
 
 When stung with hunger she embroils the flood. 
 
 The sea-dog and the dolphin are her food; 
 
 She makes the huge leviathan her prey, - ^ 
 
 And all the monsters of the watery way; 120 
 
 The swiftest racer of the azure plain 
 Here fills her sails and spreads her oars in vain; 
 
 Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars. 
 
 At once six mouths expands, at once six men devours. 
 
 “‘Close by, a rock of less enormous height 
 Breaks the wild waves, and forms a dangerous strait; 
 
 Full on its crown a fig’s green branches rise. 
 
 And shoot a leafy forest to the skies; 
 
 Beneath, Charybdis holds her boisterous reign 
 
 ’Midst roaring whirlpools, and absorbs the main; 130 
 
 Thrice in her gulfs the boiling seas subside. 
 
 Thrice in dire thunders she refunds the tide. 
 
 Oh, if thy vessel plough the direful waves 
 When seas retreating roar within her caves. 
 
 Ye perish all! though he who rules the main 
 Lend his strong aid, his aid he lends in vain. 
 
 Ah, shun the horrid gulf! by Scylla fly, 
 
 ’Tis better six to lose, than all to die.’ 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 209 
 
 “I then: *Oh, nymph propitious to my prayer, 
 
 Goddess divine! my guardian power, declare, 140 
 
 Is the foul fiend from human vengeance freed? 
 
 Or, if I rise in arms, can Scylla bleed V 
 
 “Then she: ‘Oh, worn by toils! oh, broke in fight! 
 
 Still are new toils and war thy dire delight? 
 
 With martial flames for ever fire thy mind. 
 
 And never, never, be to Heaven resign’d? 
 
 How vain thy efforts to avenge the wrong! 
 
 Deathless the pest! impenetrably strong! 
 
 Furious and fell, tremendous to behold! 
 
 Ev’n with a look she withers all the bold! 150 
 
 She mocks the weak attempts of human might: 
 
 Oh, fly her rage! thy conquest is thy flight. 
 
 If but to seize thy arms thou make delay. 
 
 Again the fury vindicates her prey. 
 
 Her six mouths yawn, and six are snatch’d away. 
 
 From her foul womb Cratais gave to air 
 This dreadful pest! To her direct thy prayer, 
 
 To curb the monster in her dire abodes. 
 
 And guard thee through the tumult of the floods. 
 
 Thence to Trinacria’s shore you bend your way, 160 
 Where graze thy herds, illustrious Source of Day! 
 
 I Seven herds, seven flocks, enrich the sacred plain. 
 
 Each herd, each flock, full fifty heads contain: 
 
 I' The wondrous kind a length of age survey. 
 
 By breed increase not, nor by death decay. 
 
 ■ Two sister goddesses possess the plain, 
 
 ;|' The constant guardians of the woolly train: 
 
 |l Lampetia fair and Pha4tusa young, 
 
 1 From Phoebus and the bright Nesera sprung: 
 
 I Here, watchful o’er the flocks, in shady bowers 70 
 
 ; And flowery meads they waste the joyous hours. 
 
 Rob not the god! and so propitious gales 
 ' Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails; 
 
 But if thy impious hands the flocks destroy, 
 i The gods, the gods avenge it, and ye die! 
 
 ' ’Tis thine alone (thy friends and navy lost) 
 
 I Through tedious toils to view thy native coast.’ 
 
210 the odyssey, book XII. 
 
 “She ceased: and now arose the morning ray; 
 
 Swift to her dome the goddess held her way. 
 
 Then to my mates I measured back the plain, 180 
 
 Climb’d the tall bark, and rush’d into the main; 
 
 Then, bending to the stroke, their oars they drew 
 To their broad breasts, and swift the galley flew. 
 
 Up sprung a brisker breeze; with freshening gales 
 The friendly goddess stretch’d the swelling sails: 
 
 We drop our oars; at ease the pilot guides; 
 
 The vessel light along the level glides. 
 
 When, rising, sad and slow, with pensive look. 
 
 Thus to the melancholy train I spoke: 
 
 “‘Oh, friends! oh, ever partners of my woes! 190 
 Attend, while I what Heaven foredooms disclose: 
 
 Hear all • Fate hangs o’er all; on you it lies 
 To live or perish! to be safe, be wise! 
 
 In flowery meads the sportive Sirens play. 
 
 Touch the soft lyre, and tune the vocal lay; 
 
 Me, me alone, with fetters firmly bound, ^ 
 
 The gods allow to hear the dangerous sound. 
 
 Hear and obey: if freedom I demand, ^ 
 
 Be every fetter strain’d, be added band to band.’ 
 
 “While yet I speak, the winged galley flies, 200 
 
 And, lo! the Siren shores like mists arise. 
 
 Sunk were at once the winds: the air above. 
 
 And waves below, at once forgot to move: 
 
 Some demon calmed the air, and smoothed the deep. 
 Hush’d the loud winds, and charm’d the waves to sleep. 
 Now every sail we furl, each oar we ply; 
 
 Lash’d by the stroke the frothy waters fly. 
 
 The ductile wax with busy hands I mould. 
 
 And cleft in fragments, and the fragments roll’d; 
 
 The aerial region now grew warm with day, 210 
 
 The wax dissolved beneath the burning ray; 
 
 Then every ear I barr’d against the strain. 
 
 And from access of phrensy lock’d the brain. 
 
 Now round the mast my mates the fetters roll’d. 
 
 And bound me limb by limb with fold on fold. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 21i 
 
 Then, bending to the stroke, the active train 
 Plunge all at once their oars, and cleave the main. 
 While to the shore the rapid vessel flies. 
 
 Our swift approach the Siren choir descries; 
 
 Celestial music warbles from their tongue. 
 
 And thus the sweet deluders tune the song: 
 
 “‘Oh, stay! oh, pride of Greece! Ulysses, stay! 
 Oh, cease thy course, and listen to our lay! 
 
 Bless’d is the man ordain’d our voice to hear. 
 
 The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear. 
 Approach! thy soul shall into raptures rise! 
 Approach! and learn new wisdom from the wise! 
 We know whate’er the kings of mighty name 
 Achieved at Ilion in the field of fame; 
 
 Whate’er beneath the sun’s bright journey lies. 
 
 Oh, stay! and learn new wisdom from the wise!’ 
 
 “ Thus the sweet charmers warbled o’er the main; 
 My soul takes wing to meet the heavenly strain; 
 
 I give the sign, and struggle to be free: 
 
 Swift row my mates, and shoot along the sea; 
 
 New chains they add, and rapid urge the way. 
 
 Till, dying off, the distant sounds decay: 
 
 Then, scudding swiftly from the dangerous ground. 
 The deafen’d ear unlock’d, the chain unbound. 
 
 “Now all at once tremendous scenes unfold; 
 Thunder’d the deeps, the smoking billows roll’d! 
 
 I Tumultuous waves embroil the bellowing flood, 
 
 ' All trembling, deafen’d, and aghast we stood! 
 
 ' No more the vessel plough’d the dreadful wave, 
 
 I Fear seized the mighty, and unnerved the brave; 
 Each dropp’d his oar: but swift from man to man 
 With looks serene I turn’d, and thus began: 
 
 I “‘O friends! oh, often tried in adveise storms! 
 With ills familiar in more dreadful forms! 
 
 Deep in the dire Cyclopean den you lay. 
 
 Yet safe return’d—Ulysses led the way. 
 
 Learn courage hence, and in my care confide; 
 
 I Lo! still the same Ulysses is your guide. 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
 240 
 
 250 
 
212 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 Attend my words! your oars incessant ply; 
 
 Strain every nerve, and bid the vessel fly. 
 
 If from yon justling rocks and wavy war 
 Jove safety grants, he grants it to your care. 
 
 And thou, whose guiding hand directs our way. 
 
 Pilot, attentive listen and obey! 
 
 Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves 260 
 Where rolls yon smoke, yon tumbling ocean raves: 
 
 Steer by the higher rock; lest whirl’d around 
 We sink, beneath the circling eddy drown’d.’ 
 
 “While yet I speak, at once their oars they seize. 
 Stretch to the stroke, and brush the working seas. 
 Cautious the name of Scylla I suppress’d; 
 
 That dreadful sound had chill’d the boldest breast. 
 
 “Meantime, forgetful of the voice divine. 
 
 All dreadful bright, my limbs in armour shine; 
 
 High on the deck I take my dangerous stand, 270 
 
 Two glittering javelins lighten in my hand: 
 
 Prepared to whirl the whizzing spear I stay, r 
 
 Till the fell fiend arise to seize her prey. 
 
 Around the dungeon, studious to behold 
 ^The hideous pest, my labouring eyes I roll’d; 
 
 In vain ! the dismal dungeon, dark as night. 
 
 Veils the dire monster, and confounds the sight. 
 
 “Now through the rocks, appall’d with deep dismay, 
 We bend our course, and stem the desperate way; 
 
 Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, 280 
 
 And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms. 
 
 When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves 
 The rough rock roars; tumultuous boil the waves; 
 
 They toss, they foam, a wild confusion raise. 
 
 Like waters bubbling o’er the fiery blaze; 
 
 Eternal mists obscure th’ aerial plain. 
 
 And high above the rock she spouts the main: 
 
 When in her gulfs the rushing sea subsides. 
 
 She drains the ocean with the refluent tides: 
 
 The rock rebellows with a thundering sound; 290 
 
 Deep, wondrous deep below, appears the ground. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 213 
 
 “Struck with despair, with trembling hearts we view’d 
 The yawning dungeon, and the tumbling flood; 
 
 When, lo! fierce Scylla stoop’d to seize her prey. 
 
 Stretch’d her dire jaws, and swept six men away; 
 
 Chiefs of renown! loud-echoing shrieks arise: 
 
 I turn, and view them quivering in the skies; 
 
 They call, and aid with out-stretch’d arms implore: 
 
 In vain they call! those arms are stretch’d no more. 
 
 As from some rock that overhangs the flood, 300 
 
 The silent fisher casts the insidious food, 
 
 With fraudful care he waits the finny prize, 
 
 And sudden lifts it quivering to the skies: 
 
 So the foul monster lifts her prey on high, 
 
 So pant the wretches struggling in the sky: 
 
 In the wide dungeon she devours her food. 
 
 And the flesh trembles while she churns the blood. 
 
 Worn as I am with griefs, with cares decay’d. 
 
 Never, I never, scene so dire survey’d! 
 
 My shivering blood, congeal’d forgot to flow; 310 
 
 Aghast I stood, a monument of wo 1 
 
 “Now from the rocks the rapid vessel flies. 
 
 And the hoarse din like distant thunder dies; 
 
 To Sol’s bright isle our voyage we pursue. 
 
 And now the glittering mountains rise to view. 
 
 There, sacred to the radiant god of day. 
 
 Graze the fair herds, the flocks promiscuous stray: 
 
 Then suddenly was heard along the main 
 To low the ox, to bleat the woolly train. 
 
 Straight to my anxious thoughts the sound convey’d 320 
 j The words of Circb and the Theban shade; 
 
 I Warn’d by their awful voice these shores to shun. 
 
 With cautious fears oppress’d, I thus begun: 
 
 “‘Oh, friends! oh, ever exercised in care! 
 
 Hear Heaven’s commands, and reverence what ye hear! 
 
 ' To fly these shores the prescient Theban shade 
 - And Circ^ warns! Oh, be their voice obey’d! 
 i Some mighty wo relentless Heaven forebodes: 
 
 1 Fly these dire regions, and revere the gods! 
 
214 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 “While yet I spoke, a sudden sorrow ran 330 
 
 Through every breast, and spread from man to man. 
 
 Till wrathful thus Eurylochus began: 
 
 “‘Oh, cruel thou!' some fury sure has steel’d 
 That stubborn soul, by toil untaught to yield 1 
 From sleep debarred, we sink from woes to woes: 
 
 And, cruel, enviest thou a short repose? 
 
 Still must we restless rove, new seas explore. 
 
 The sun descending, and so near the shore? 
 
 And, lo! the night begins her gloomy reign. 
 
 And doubles all the terrors of the main. 340 
 
 Oft in the dead of night loud winds arise. 
 
 Lash the wild surge, and bluster in the skies; 
 
 Oh 1 should the fierce south-west his rage display. 
 
 And toss with rising storms the watery way, 
 
 Though gods descend from heaven’s aerial plain, 
 
 To lend us aid, the gods descend in vain; 
 
 Then while the night displays her awful shade. 
 
 Sweet time of slumber 1 be the night obey’d 1 
 Haste ye to land! and when the morning ray 
 Sheds her bright beams, pursue the destined way.’ 350 
 “A sudden joy in every bosom rose; 
 
 So will’d some demon, minister of woes I 
 
 “To whom with grief: ‘Oh, swift to be undone. 
 Constrain’d I act what wisdom bids me shun. 
 
 But yonder herds and yonder flocks forbear; 
 
 Attest the heavens, and call the gods to hear:- 
 Content, an innocent repast display. 
 
 By Circ^ given, and fly the dangerous prey.’ 
 
 “Thus I: and while to shore the vessel flies. 
 
 With hands uplifted they attest the skies; 360 
 
 Then where a fountain’s gurgling waters play, 
 
 They rush to land, and end in feasts the day: 
 
 They feed; they quaff: and now (their hunger fled) 
 
 Sigh for their friends devour’d, and mourn the dead. 
 
 Nor cease the tears till each in slumber shares 
 A sweet forgetfulness of human cares. 
 
 “Now far the night advanced her gloomy reign. 
 
 And setting stars roll’d down the azure plain: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 215 
 
 When, at the voice of Jove, wild whirlwinds rise, 
 "And clouds and double darkness veil the skies; 
 
 The moon, the stars, the bright ethereal host 
 Seem as extinct, and all their splendours lost; 
 
 The furious tempest roars with dreadful sound: 
 
 Air thunders, rolls the ocean, groans the ground. 
 
 All night it raged: when morning rose, to land 
 We haul’d our bark, and moor’d it on. the strand. 
 
 Where in a beauteous grotto’s cool recess 
 Dance the green Nereids of the neighbouring seas. 
 
 There w’hile the wild winds whistled o’er the main. 
 
 Thus careful I address’d the listening train: ^ 380 
 
 “‘Oh, friends! be wise; nor dare the flocks destroy 
 Of these fair pastures: if ye touch, ye die. 
 
 Warned by the high command of Heaven, be awed; 
 
 Holy the flocks, and dreadful is the god I 
 That god who spreads the radiant beams of light. 
 
 And views wide earth’s and heaven’s unmeasured height.’ 
 
 “And now the moon had run her monthly round. 
 
 The south-east blustering with a dreadful sound: 
 
 Unhurt the beeves, untouch’d the woolly train. 
 
 Low through the grove, or range the flowery plain: 390 
 Then fail’d our food; then fish we make our prey. 
 
 Or fowl, that, screaming, haunt the watery way. 
 
 Till now, from sea or flood no succour found. 
 
 Famine and meagre want besieged us round. 
 
 Pensive and pale, from grove to grove I stray’d, 
 
 From the loud storms to find a sylvan shade; 
 
 There o’er my hands the living wave I pour; 
 
 And Heaven, and Heaven’s immortal thrones, adore, 
 
 To calm the roarings of the stormy main. 
 
 And grant me peaceful to my realms again. 400 
 
 Then o’er my eyes the gods soft slumber shed. 
 
 While thus Eurylochus, arising, said: 
 
 “‘Oh, friends! a thousand ways frail mortals lead 
 To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread; 
 
 But dreadful most, when, by a slow decay. 
 
 Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away. 
 
216 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 Why cease ye then t’ implore the powers above, , 
 
 And offer hecatombs to thundering Jove? 
 
 Why seize ye not yon beeves and fleecy prey ? 
 
 Arise unanimous; arise, and slay! 410 
 
 And if the gods ordain a safe return. 
 
 To Phoebus shrines shall rise, and altars burn. 
 
 But should the powers that o’er mankind preside. 
 
 Decree to plunge us in the whelming tide. 
 
 Better to rush at once to shades below. 
 
 Than linger life away, and nourish wo!’ 
 
 “Thus he: the beeves around securely stray. 
 
 When swift to ruin they invade the prey; 
 
 They seize, they kill! but for the rite divine. 
 
 The barley fail’d, and for libations, wine. 420 
 
 Swift from the oak they strip the shady pride; 
 
 And verdant leaves the flowery cake supplied. 
 
 With prayer they now address’d th’ ethereal train. 
 
 Slay the selected beeves, and flay the slain: 
 
 The thighs with fat involved, divide with art, ^ 
 
 Strew’d o’er with morsels cut from every part. 
 
 Water, instead of wine, is brought in urns. 
 
 And pour’d profanely as the victim burns. 
 
 The thighs thus offer’d, and the entrails dress’d. 
 
 They roast the fragments, and prepare the feast. 430 
 “’Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain; 
 
 Back to the bark I speed along the main. 
 
 When, lo! an odour from the feast exhales. 
 
 Spreads o’er the coast, and scents the tainted gales; 
 
 A chilly fear congeal’d my vital blood. 
 
 And thus, obtesting Heaven, I mourn’d aloud: 
 
 “‘Oh, sire of men and gods, immortal Jove! 
 
 Oh, all ye blissful powers that reign above I 
 Why were my cares beguiled in short repose? 
 
 Oh, fatal slumber, paid with lasting woes I 440 
 
 A deed so dreadful all the gods alarms. 
 
 Vengeance is on the wing, and heaven in arms!’ 
 
 “ Meantime, Lampetia mounts th’ aerial way, 
 
 And kindles into rage the god of day: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII.. 
 
 217 
 
 “‘Vengeance, ye powers V he cries,‘and thou whose hand 
 Aims the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand! 
 
 Slain are those herds which I with pride survey, 
 
 When through the ports of heaven I pour the day. 
 
 Or deep in ocean plunge the burning ray. 
 
 Vengeance, ye gods! or I the skies forego, 450 
 
 And bear the lamp of heaven to shades below.’ 
 
 “ To whom the thundering Power: ‘ Oh, source of day! 
 Whose radiant lamp adorns the azure way. 
 
 Still may thy beams through heaven’s bright portals rise. 
 The joy of earth, and glory of the skies; 
 
 Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide. 
 
 To dash th’ offenders in the whelming tide.’ 
 
 “To fair Calypso from the bright abodes, 
 
 Hermes convey’d these counsels of the gods. 
 
 Meantime, from man to man my tongue exclaims, 460 
 My wrath is kindled, and my soul in flames. 
 
 In vain! I view perform’d the direful deed. 
 
 Beeves slain by heaps along the ocean bleed. 
 
 “Now Heaven gave signs of wrath; along the ground 
 Crept the raw hides, and with a bellowing sound 
 Roar’d the dead limbs; the burning entrails groan’d. 
 
 Six guilty days my wretched mates employ 
 In impious feasting, and unhallow’d joy; 
 
 The seventh arose, and now the sire of gods 
 
 Rein’d the rough storms, and calm’d the tossing floods: 470 
 
 With speed the bark we climb; the spacious sails. 
 
 Loosed from the yards, invite th’ impelling gales. 
 
 Pass’d sight of shore, along the surge we bound, 
 
 And all above is sky, and ocean all around; 
 
 When, lo! a murky cloud the Thunderer forms 
 Full o’er our heads, and blackens heaven with storms. 
 Night dwells o’er all the deep: and now outflies 
 The gloomy West, and whistles in the skies. 
 
 The mountain-billows roar! the furious blast 
 
 Howls o’er the shrouds, and rends it from the mast; 480 
 
 The mast gives way, and, crackling as it bends, 
 
 ' Tears up the deck; then all at once descends; 
 
 JO 
 
318 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 
 
 The pilot, by the tumbling ruin slain, 
 
 Dash’d from the helm, falls headlong in the mam. 
 
 Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll. 
 
 And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole: 
 
 Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims. 
 
 Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapt in flames. 
 
 Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low, 
 
 Toss’d and retoss’d, it reel’d beneath the blow, 
 
 At once into the main the crew it shook: 
 
 Sulphureous odours rose, and smouldering smoke. 
 Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise. 
 Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries, 
 And strive to gain the bark; but Jove denies. 
 
 Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the mam 
 Rush’d with dire noise, and dash’d the sides m twain; 
 Again impetuous drove the furious blast. 
 
 Snapp’d the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast; 
 Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind. 
 
 And ride aloft, to Providence resign’d. 
 
 Through tumbling billows and a war of wind. 
 
 “Now sunk the west, and now a southern breeze, 
 More dreadful than the tempest, lash’d the seas. 
 
 For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves, 
 
 And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves. 
 All night I drove; and at the dawn of day. 
 
 Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way: 
 Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides. 
 
 And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides. 
 Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound. 
 
 The lofty fig-tree seized, and clung around: 
 
 So to the beam the bat tenacious clings, 
 
 And, pendant, round it clasps his leathern wings. 
 High in the air the tree its boughs display’d, 
 
 And o’er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade. 
 
 All unsustain’d between the wave and sky. 
 Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly, 
 What-time the judge forsakes the noisy bar 
 To take repast, and stills the wordy war; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XII. 219 
 
 Charybdis, rumbling from her inmost caves, 
 
 The mast refunded on her refluent waves. 
 
 Swift from the tree, the floating mast to gain. 
 
 Sudden I dropp’d amidst the flashing main; 
 
 Once more undaunted on the ruin rode. 
 
 And oar’d with labouring arms along the flood. 
 
 Unseen I pass’d by Scylla’s dire abodes; 
 
 So Jove decreed—dread sire of men and gods. 
 
 Then nine long days I plough’d the calmer seas. 
 
 Heaved by the surge, and wafted by the breeze. 530 
 Weary and wet the Ogygian shores I gain. 
 
 When the tenth sun descended to the main. 
 
 There, in Calypso’s ever-fragrant bowers, 
 
 Refresh’d I lay, and joy beguiled the hours. 
 f “My following fates to thee, O king, are known. 
 
 And the bright partner of thy royal throne. 
 
 Enough! In misery can words avail? 
 
 And what so tedious as a twice-told tale?” 
 
BOOK XIII. 
 
 i 
 
 The Arrival of Ulysses in Ithaca; his Transformation. 
 
 Argument.—U lysses takes leave of Alcinoiis and Aretfe, and embarks in the 
 evening’. Next morning the ship arrives at Ithaca; where the sailors, as 
 Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the shore with all his treasures. On 
 their return, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. In the mean time, 
 Ulysses, awaking, knows not his native Ithaca, by reason of a mist which 
 Pallas had cast round him. He breaks into loud lamentations; till the 
 goddess, appearing to him in the form of a shepherd, discovers the country 
 to him, and points out the particular places. He then tells a feigned story 
 of his adventures, upon which she manifests herself, and they consult 
 together of the measures to be taken to destroy the suitors. To conceal 
 his return, and disguise his person the more effectually, she changes him 
 into the figure of an old beggar. 
 
 He ceased; but left so pleasing on their ear 
 His voice, that, listening still, they seem’d to hear. 
 
 A pause of silence hush’d the shady rooms; 
 
 The grateful conference then the king resumes: J 
 
 “Whatever toils the great^Ulysses pass’d, // 
 
 Beneath this happy roof they end at last; ^ 
 
 No longer now from shore to shore to roam. 
 
 Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him home. 
 
 But hear me, princes! whom these walls enclose. 
 
 For whom my chanter sings, and goblet flows! 10 
 
 With wines unmix’d (an honour due to age. 
 
 To cheer the grave, and warm the poet’s rage); 
 
 Though labour’d gold and many a dazzling vest 
 Lie heap’d already for our godlike guest; 
 
 Without new treasures let him not remove. 
 
 Large, and expressive of the public love: 
 
 Each peer a tripod, each a vase bestow, 
 
 A general tribute which the state shall owe.” 
 
 This sentence pleased: then all their steps address’d 
 To separate mansions, and retired to rest. 20 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 221 
 
 Now did the rosy-finger’d morn arise, 
 
 And shed her sacred light along the skies. 
 
 Down to the haven and the ships in haste 
 They bore the treasures, and in safety placed. 
 
 The king himself the vases ranged with care; 
 
 Then bade his followers to the feast repair. 
 
 A victim ox beneath the sacred hand 
 Of great Alcinoiis falls, and stains the sand. 
 
 To Jove th’ Eternal (power above all powers! 
 
 Who wings the winds, and' darkens heaven with showers) 
 The flames ascend: till evening they prolong 31 
 
 The rites, more sacred made by heavenly song: 
 
 For in the midst, with public honours graced, 
 
 Thy lyre divine, Demodocus! was placed. 
 
 All, but Ulysses, heard with fix’d delight: 
 
 He sate, and eyed the sun, and wish’d the night: 
 
 Slow seem’d the sun to move, the hours to roll. 
 
 His native home deep imaged in his soul. 
 
 As the tired ploughman, spent with stubborn toil. 
 
 Whose oxen long have torn the furrow’d soil, 40 
 
 Sees with delight the sun’s declining ray. 
 
 When home with feeble knees he bends his way 
 To late repast, (the day’s hard labour done,) 
 
 So to Ulysses welcome set the sun; 
 
 Then instant to Alcinoiis and the rest 
 
 (The Scherian states) he turn’d, and thus address’d: 
 
 “ Oh, thou, the first in merit and command I 
 And you, the peers and princes of the land! 
 
 May every joy be yours! nor this the least. 
 
 When due libation shall have crown’d the feast, 50 
 
 Safe to my home to send your happy guest. 
 
 Complete are now the bounties you have given. 
 
 Be all those bounties but confirm’d by Heaven! 
 
 So may I find, when all my wanderings cease. 
 
 My consort blameless, and my friends in peace. 
 
 On you be every bliss; and every day. 
 
 In home-felt joys, delighted roll away: 
 
 Yourselves, your wives, your long-descending race, 
 
 May every god enrich with every grace! 
 
222 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 Sure fix’d on virtue may your nation stand, 60 
 
 And public evil never touch the land!” 
 
 His words, well weigh'd, the general voice approved 
 Benign, and instant his dismission moved. 
 
 The monarch to Pontinus gave the sign. 
 
 To fill the goblet high with rosy wine: 
 
 ‘‘Great Jove the Father, first,” he cried, “implore: 
 
 Then send the stranger to his native shore.” 
 
 The luscious wine th’ obedient herald brought: 
 
 Around the mansion flow'd the purple draught: 
 
 Each from his seat to each immortal pours, 70 
 
 Whom glory circles in th’ Olympian bowers. 
 
 Ulysses sole with air majestic stands. 
 
 The bowl presenting to Arete’s hands; 
 
 Then thus: “O queen, farewell! be still possess’d 
 Of dear remembrance, blessing still, and bless’d. 
 
 Till age and death shall gently call thee hence, 
 
 (Sure fate of every mortal excellence!) 
 
 Farewell 1 and joys successive ever spring 
 To thee, to thine, the people, and the king 1” 
 
 Thus he; then, parting, prints the sandy shore 80 
 To the fair port: a herald march’d before, 
 
 Sent by Alcinoiis; of Arete’s train 
 Three chosen maids attend him to the main; 
 
 This does a tunic and white vest convey, 
 
 A various casket that, of rich inlay. 
 
 And bread and wine the third. The cheerful mates 
 Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates: 
 
 Upon the deck soft painted robes they spread. 
 
 With linen cover’d, for the hero’s bed. 
 
 He climb’d the lofty stern; then gently press’d 90 
 
 The swelling couch, and lay composed to rest. 
 
 Now placed in order, the Phseacian train 
 Their cables loose, and launch into the main: 
 
 At once they bend, and strike their equal oars. 
 
 And leave the sinking hills and lessening shores. 
 
 While on the deck the chief in silence lies, 
 
 And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 223 
 
 As fiery coursers in the rapid race, 
 
 Urged by fierce drivers through the dusty space, 
 
 Toss their high heads, and scour along the plain, 100 
 So mounts the bounding vessel o’er the main. 
 
 Back to the stern the parted billows flow. 
 
 And the black ocean foams and roars below. 
 
 Thus with spread sails the winged galley flies; 
 
 Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies; 
 
 Divine Ulysses was her sacred load, 
 
 A man in wisdom equal to a god! 
 
 Much danger, long and mighty toils he bore, ^ 
 
 In storms by sea, and combats on the shore: 
 
 All which soft sleep now banish’d fi’om his breast, 110 
 Wrapt in a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest. 
 
 But when the morning-star with early ray 
 Flamed in the front of heaven, and promised day; 
 
 Like distant clouds the mariner descries 
 Fair Ithaca’s emerging hills arise. 
 
 Far from the town a spacious port appears. 
 
 Sacred to Phorcys’ power, whose name it bears; 
 
 Two craggy rocks, projecting to the main. 
 
 The roaring winds tempestuous to restrain; 
 
 Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide, 120 
 
 And ships secure without their halsers ride. 
 
 High at the head, a branching olive grows. 
 
 And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs. 
 Beneath, a gloomy grotto’s cool recess 
 Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas. 
 
 Where bowls and urns were form’d of living stone. 
 
 And massy beams in native marble shone; 
 
 On which the labours of the nymph were roll’d. 
 
 Their webs divine of purple mix’d with gold. 
 
 Within the cave the clustering bees attend 130 
 
 Their waxen works, or from the roof depend. 
 
 Perpetual waters o’er the pavement glide: 
 
 Two marble doors unfold on either side; 
 
 Sacred the south, by which the gods descend; 
 
 But mortals enter at the northern end. 
 
224 the odyssey, book XIII. 
 
 Thither they bent, and haul their ship to land, ^ 
 
 (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand;) 
 
 Ulysses, sleeping on his couch, they bore. 
 
 And gently placed him on the rocky shore. 
 
 His treasures next, Alcinoiis’ gifts, they laid 140 
 
 In the wild olive’s unfrequented shade. 
 
 Secure from theft; then launch’d the bark again. 
 
 Resumed their oars, and measured back the main. 
 
 Nor yet forgot old Ocean’s dread supreme 
 The vengeance vow’d for eyeless Polypheme. 
 
 Before the throne of mighty Jove he stood; 
 
 And sought the secret counsels of the god: 
 
 “Shall then no more, oh, sire of gods! be mine 
 The rights and honours of a power divine? 
 
 Scorn d ev’n by man, and (oh, severe disgrace I) ] 50 
 By soft Phmacians, my degenerate race 1 
 Against yon destined head in vain I swore, 
 
 And menaced vengeance, ere he reached his shore; 
 
 To reach his native shore was thy decree; 
 
 Mild I obey’d; for who shall war with thee? 
 
 Behold him landed, careless, and asleep. 
 
 From all th’ eluded dangers of the deep; 
 
 Lo, where he lies, amidst a shining store 
 Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore; 
 
 And bears triumphant to his native isle 160 
 
 A prize more worth than Ilion’s noble spoil.” 
 
 To whom the Father of th’ immortal powers. 
 
 Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with showers: 
 
 “Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain? 
 
 Neptune, tremendous o’er the boundless main! 
 
 Revered and awful ev’n in heaven’s abodes. 
 
 Ancient and great! a god above the gods I 
 If that low race offend thy power divine, 
 
 (W^eak, daring creatures 1) is not vengeance thine ? 
 
 Go, then, the guilty at thy will chastise.” 
 
 He said. The Shaker of the earth replies: 
 
 “This then I doom: to fix the gallant ship, 
 
 A mark of vengeance, on the sable deep; 
 
 170 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 225 
 
 To warn the thoughtless, self-confiding train, 
 
 No more unlicensed thus to brave the main. 
 
 Full in their port a shady hill shall rise. 
 
 If such thy will.”—“We will it,” Jove replies. 
 
 “Even when with transport blackening all the strand. 
 
 The swarming people hail their ship to land. 
 
 Fix her for ever, a memorial stone: 180 
 
 Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone: 
 
 The trembling crowds shall see the sudden shade 
 Of whelming mountains overhang their head!” 
 
 With that, the god whose earthquakes rock the ground. 
 Fierce to Phseacia cross’d the vast profound. 
 
 Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way, 
 
 The winged pinnace shot along the sea. 
 
 The god arrests her with a sudden stroke. 
 
 And roots her down, an everlasting rock. 
 
 Aghast the Scherians stand in deep surprise; 190 
 
 All press to speak, all question with their eyes. 
 
 What hands unseen the rapid bark restrain? 
 
 And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the main! 
 
 Thus they, unconscious of the deed divine: 
 
 Till great Alcinoiis, rising, own’d the sign: 
 
 “Behold the long-predestined day!” he cries; 
 
 “Oh, certain faith of ancient prophecies! 
 
 These ears have heard my royal sire disclose 
 A dreadful story, big with future woes; 
 
 How, moved with wrath, that careless we convey 200 
 Promiscuous every guest to every bay. 
 
 Stern Neptune raged; and how by his command 
 Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand, 
 
 (A monument of wrath;) and mound on mound 
 Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath the grouna. 
 
 The Fates have follow’d as declared the seer. 
 
 Be humbled, nations! and your monarch hear: 
 
 No more unlicensed brave the deeps; no more 
 With every stranger pass from shore to shore: 
 
 On angry Neptune now for mercy call; 
 
 To his high name let twelve black oxen fall. 
 
 10* P 
 
 210 
 
226 the odyssey, book XIII. 
 
 So may the god reverse his purposed will, 
 
 Nor o’er our city hang the dreadful hill.” 
 
 The monarch spoke: they trembled and obey’d. 
 
 Forth on the sands the victim oxen led: 
 
 The gather’d tribes before the altars stand, 
 
 And chiefs and rulers, a majestic band. 
 
 The king of ocean all the tribes implore; 
 
 The blazing altars redden all the shore. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ulysses in his country lay, 220 
 
 Released from sleep, and round him might survey 
 The solitary shore and rolling sea. 
 
 Yet had his mind through tedious absence lost 
 The dear remembrance of his native coast; 
 
 Besides, Minerva, to secure her care. 
 
 Diffused around a veil of thickened air: 
 
 For so the gods ordain’d, to keep unseen 
 His royal person from his friends and queen; 
 
 Till the proud suitors for their crimes afford 
 An ample vengeance to their injured lord. 230 
 
 Now all the land another prospect bore. 
 
 Another port appear’d, another shore. 
 
 And long-continued ways, and winding floods. 
 
 And unknown mountains, crown’d with unknown woods. 
 Pensive and slow, with sudden grief oppress’d. 
 
 The king arose, and beat his careful breast. 
 
 Cast a long look o’er all the coast and main. 
 
 And sought, around, his native realm in vain: 
 
 Then with erected eyes stood fix’d in wo. 
 
 And, as he spoke, the tears began to flow: 240 
 
 “Ye gods!” he cried^“upon what barren coast, 
 
 In what new region, is Ulysses toss’d? 
 
 Possess’d by wild barbarians, fierce in arms, 
 
 Or men whose bosom tender pity warms? 
 
 Where shall this treasure now in safety lie. 
 
 And whither, whither its sad owner fly? 
 
 Ah! why did I Alcinous’ grace implore? 
 
 Ah! why forsake Phoeacia’s happy shore? 
 
 Some juster prince perhaps had entertain’d, 
 
 And safe restored me to mv native land. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 227 
 
 Is this the promised, long-expected coast, 
 
 And this the faith Pheeacia’s rulers boast? 
 
 Oh, righteous gods! of all the great, how few 
 Are just to Heaven, and to their promise true! 
 
 But He, the power to whose all-seeing eyes 
 The deeds of men appear without disguise, 
 
 ’Tis His alone t’ avenge the wrongs I bear; 
 
 For still the oppress’d are His peculiar care. 
 
 To count these presents, and from thence to prove 
 Their faith, is mine: the rest belongs to Jove.” 
 
 Then on the sands he ranged his wealthy store, 
 The gold, the vests, the tripods, number’d o’er: 
 
 All these he found; but, still in error lost, 
 Disconsolate he wanders on the coast. 
 
 Sighs for his country, and laments again 
 To the deaf rocks and hoarse resounding main. 
 
 When, lo! the guardian goddess of the wise. 
 
 Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes: 
 
 In show a youthful swain, of form divine, 
 
 W^ho seem’d descended from some princely line. 27 
 A graceful robe her slender body dress’d: 
 
 Around her shoulders flew the waving vest. 
 
 Her decent hand a shining javelin bore, 
 
 And painted sandals on her feet she wore. 
 
 To whom the king: “Whoe’er of human race 
 Thou art, that wander’st in this desert place! 
 
 With joy to thee, as to some god, I bend, 
 
 To thee my treasures and myself commend. 
 
 Oh! tell a wretch in exile doom’d to stray. 
 
 What air I breathe, what country I survey? 28 
 
 The fruitful continent’s extremest bound, 
 
 Or some fair isle which Neptune’s arms surround?” 
 
 “From what fair clime,” said she, “remote from fame, 
 Arriv’st thou here a stranger to our name? 
 
 Thou seest an island, not to those unknown 
 Whose hills are brighten’d by the rising sun. 
 
 Nor those that, placed beneath his utmost reign. 
 
 Behold him sinking in the western main. 
 
228 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 The rugged soil allows no level space, 
 
 For flying chariots or the rapid race: 290 
 
 Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant’s pain. 
 
 Suffices fullness to the swelling grain: 
 
 The loaded trees their various fruits produce. 
 
 And clustering grapes afford a generous juice: 
 
 Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove 
 The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove: 
 
 Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field. 
 
 And rising springs eternal verdure yield. 
 
 Ev’n to those shores is Ithaca renown’d. 
 
 Where Troy’s majestic ruins strew the ground.” 300 
 At this the chief with transport was possess’d. 
 
 His panting heart exulting in his breast: 
 
 Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys. 
 
 And veiling truth in plausible disguise. 
 
 Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold, - 
 
 His ready tale th’ inventive hero told: 
 
 “Oft have I heard in Crete this island’s name: 
 
 For’twas from Crete, my native soil, I came: 
 
 Self-banish’d thence. I sail’d before the wind. 
 
 And left my children and my friends behind; 310 
 
 From fierce Idomeneus’ revenge I flew, 
 
 Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew. 
 
 (With brutal force he seized my Trojan prey. 
 
 Due to the toils of many a bloody day.) 
 
 Unseen I ’scaped; and, favour’d by the night. 
 
 In a Phoenician vessel took my flight. 
 
 For Pyle or Elis bound: but tempests toss’d. 
 
 And raging billows drove us on your coast. 
 
 In dead of night an unknown port we gain’d. 
 
 Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land. . 320 
 
 But ere the rosy morn renew’d the day. 
 
 While in th’ embrace of pleasing sleep I lay. 
 
 Sudden, invited by auspicious gales. 
 
 They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails. 
 Abandon’d here, my fortune I deplore, 
 
 A hapless exile on a foreign shore.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 229 
 
 Thus while he spoke the blue-eyed maid began, 
 
 With pleasing smiles, to view the godlike man: 
 
 Then changed her form: and now, divinely bright, 
 
 Jove’s heavenly daughter stood confess’d to sight; 330 
 Like a fair virgin in her beauty’s bloom. 
 
 Skill’d in th’ illustrious labours of the loom. 
 
 ‘‘Oh, still the same Ulysses!” she rejoin’d, 
 
 “In useful craft successfully refined! 
 
 Artful in speech, in action, and in mind! 
 
 Sufficed it not, that, thy long labours past. 
 
 Secure thou seest thy native shore at last? 
 
 But this to me? who, like thyself, excel 
 In arts of counsel, and dissembling well; 
 
 To me? whose wit exceeds the powers divine, 340 
 
 No less than mortals are surpass’d by thine? 
 
 Know’st thou not me? who made thy life my care. 
 
 Thro’ ten years’ wandering, and thro’ ten years’ wai, 
 Who taught thee arts, Alcinoiis to persuade, 
 
 To raise his wonder, and engage his aid; 
 
 And now appear, thy treasures to protect, 
 
 Conceal thy person, thy designs direct, 
 
 And tell what more thou must from Fate expect: 
 
 Domestic woes far heavier to be borne! 
 
 The pride of fools, and slaves’ insulting scorn. 350 
 
 But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state; 
 
 Yield to the force of unresisted fate, 
 
 And bear unmoved the wrongs of base mankind, 
 
 The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.” 
 
 “Goddess of wisdom!” Ithacus replies, 
 
 “He who discerns thee must be truly wise. 
 
 So seldom view’d, and ever in disguise! 
 
 When the bold Argives led their warring powers. 
 
 Against proud Ilion’s well-defended towers, 
 
 Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid! 360 
 
 Graced with thy sight, and favour’d with thy aid: 
 
 But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay. 
 
 And bound for Greece we plough’d the watery way; 
 
 Our fleet dispersed, and driven from coast to coast. 
 
 Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost; 
 
230 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 Till I beheld thy radiant form once more, 
 
 And heard thy counsels on Phseacia’s shore. 
 
 But, by th’ almighty Author of thy race. 
 
 Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place? 
 
 For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea 370 
 
 Divide this coast from distant Ithaca; 
 
 The sweet delusion kindly you impose. 
 
 To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.” 
 
 Thus he. The blue-eyed goddess thus replies: 
 
 “How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! 
 
 Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show, 
 
 And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow. 
 
 The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires. 
 
 And guard the wisdom which herself inspires. 
 
 Others, long absent from their native place, 380 
 
 Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace 
 To their wives’ arms, and children’s dear embrace. 
 
 Not thus Ulysses: he decrees to prove 
 
 His subjects’ faith, and queen’s suspected love; 
 
 Who mourn’d her lord twice ten revolving years. 
 
 And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears. 
 
 But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost) • 
 
 Once more ’twas given thee to behold thy coast: 
 
 Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage. 
 
 And mighty Neptune’s unrelenting rage? 290 
 
 Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore 
 The pleasing prospect of thy native shore. 
 
 Behold the port of Phorcys! fenced around 
 With rocky mountains, and with olives crown’d: 
 
 Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess 
 Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas: 
 
 Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign 
 Blush’d with the blood of sheep and oxen slain. 
 
 Behold! where Neritos the clouds divides. 
 
 And shakes the waving forests on his sides.” 400 
 
 So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear’d, 
 
 The mists dispersed, and all the coast appear’d. 
 
 The king with joy confess’d his place of birth. 
 
 And on his knees salutes his mother-earth; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air, 
 
 Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer: 
 
 “All hail! ye virgin daughters of the main! 
 
 Ye streams, beyond my hopes beheld again! 
 
 To you once more your own Ulysses bows. 
 
 Attend his transports, and receive his vows! 
 
 If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown 
 The growing virtues of my youthful son, 
 
 To you shall rites divine be ever paid. 
 
 And grateful offerings on your altars laid.” 
 
 Then thus Minerva: “From that anxious breast 
 Dismiss those cares, and leave to Heaven the rest. 
 
 Our task be now thy treasured stores to save. 
 
 Deep in the close recesses of the cave: 
 
 Then future means consult.”—She spoke, and trod 
 The shady grot, that brighten’d with the god. 420 
 
 The closest caverns of the grot she sought; 
 
 The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses brought: 
 
 These in the secret gloom the chief disposed; 
 
 The entrance with a rock the goddess closed. 
 
 Now, seated in the olive’s sacred shade. 
 
 Confer the hero and the martial maid. 
 
 The goddess of the azure eyes began: 
 
 “Son of Laertes! much-experienced man! 
 
 The suitoi'-train thy earliest care demand. 
 
 Of that luxurious race to rid the land: 430 
 
 Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen. 
 
 And proud addresses to the matchless queen. 
 
 But she thy absence mourns from day to day. 
 
 And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away: 
 
 Elusive of the bridal-hour,^he gives * 
 
 Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.” 
 
 To this Ulysses: “Oh, celestial maid! 
 
 Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid: 
 
 Else had I seen my native walls in vain, < 
 
 Like great Atrides, just restored and slain. 440 
 
 Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate. 
 
 And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate: 
 
 231 
 
 410 
 
 
232 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 Then, then be present, and my soul inspire. 
 
 As when we wrapt Troy’s heaven-built walls in fire 
 Though leagued against me hundred heroes stand, 
 
 Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.” 
 
 She answer’d: “In the dreadful day of fight 
 Know, I am with thee, strong in all my might, 
 
 If thou but equal to thyself be found, 
 
 What gasping numbers then shall press the ground! 450 
 
 What human victims stain the feastful floor! 
 
 How wide the pavements float with guilty gore! 
 
 It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise, 
 
 And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes. 
 
 For this, my hand shall wither every grace 
 And every elegance of form and face. 
 
 O’er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread, 
 
 Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head; 
 
 Disfigure every limb with coarse attire. 
 
 And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire; 460 
 
 Add all the wants and the decays of life; 
 
 Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife; 
 
 From the loathed object every sight shall turn, 
 
 And the blind suitors their destruction scorn. 
 
 Go first the master of thy herds to And, 
 
 True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind. 
 
 For thee he sighs: and to the royal heir 
 And chaste Penelop4 extends his care. 
 
 At the Coracian rock he now resides, 
 
 Where Arethusa’s sable water glides; 470 
 
 The sable water and the copious mast 
 Swell the fat herd; luxuriant, large repast! 
 
 With him rest peaceful in the rural cell. 
 
 And all you ask his faithful tongue shall tell.. 
 
 Me into other realms my cares convey, 
 
 To Sparta, still with female beauty gay; 
 
 For know, to Sparta thy loved offspring came, 
 
 To learn thy fortunes from the voice of Fame.” 
 
 At this, the father, with a father’s care: 
 
 “Must he too suffer? he, oh goddess! bear 480 
 
 Of wanderings and of woes a wretched share? 1 
 
233 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIII. 
 
 Through the wild ocean plough the dangerous way. 
 
 And leave his fortunes and his house a prey? 
 
 Why would’st not thou, oh, all-enlighten’d mind! 
 
 Inform him certain, and protect him, kind?” 
 
 To whom Minerva: “Be thy soul at rest; 
 
 And know, whatever Heaven ordains, is best. 
 
 To Fame I sent him, to acquire renown; 
 
 To other regions is his virtue known: 
 
 Secure he sits, near great Atrides placed; 490 
 
 M ith friendship strengthen’d; and with honours graced. 
 But, lo! an ambush waits his passage o’er; 
 
 Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore; 
 
 In vain: far sooner all the murderous brood 
 This injured land shall fatten with their blood.” 
 
 She spake; then touch’d him with her powerful wand: 
 The skin shrunk up, and wither’d at her hand; 
 
 A swift old age o’er all his members spread; 
 
 A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head; 
 
 No longer in the heavy eye-ball shined 500 
 
 The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. 
 
 His robe, which spots indelible besmear, 
 
 In rags dishonest flutters with the air: 
 
 A stag s torn hide is lapp’d around his reins: 
 
 A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains; 
 
 And at his side a wretched scrip was hung, 
 
 Wide patch’d and knotted to a twisted thong. 
 
 So look’d the chief, so moved: to mortal eyes 
 Object uncouth I a man of miseries 1 
 While Pallas, cleaving the wide fields of air. 
 
 To Sparta flies, Teleraachus her care. 
 
 510 
 
i 
 
 BOOK XIV. 
 
 The Meeting and Conversation with Eumwus. 
 
 Argument. —Ulysses arrives in disguise at the house of Eumseus, where he 
 is received, entertained, and lodged with the utmost hospitality. The 
 several discourses of that faithful old servant, with the feigned story told 
 by Ulysses to conceal himself, and other conversations on various subjects, 
 take up this entire book. 
 
 But he, deep-musing, o’er the mountains stray’d 
 Through mazy thickets of the woodland shade, 
 
 And cavern’d ways, the shaggy coast along, 
 
 -With cliffs and nodding forests overhung. 
 
 Eumteus at his sylvan lodge he sought, 
 
 A faithful servant, and without a fault. 
 
 Ulysses found him busied as he sate 
 Before the threshold of his rustic gate; 
 
 Around the mansion in a circle shone 
 
 A rural portico of rugged stone; 10 
 
 (In absence of his lord, with honest toil 
 
 His own industrious hands had raised the pile.) 
 
 The wall was stone, from neighbouring quarries borne, 
 Encircled with a fence of native thorn, 
 
 And strong with pales, by many a weary stroke 
 Of stubborn labour, hewn from heart of oak: 
 
 Frequent and thick. Within the space were rear’d 
 Twelve ample cells, the lodgement of his herd. 
 
 Full fifty pregnant females each contain’d; 
 
 The males without (a smaller race) remain’d; 20 
 
 Doom’d to supply the suitor’s wasteful feast, 
 
 A stock by daily luxury decreased; 
 
 Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend, 
 
 Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend. 
 
 Here sate Eumseus, and his cares applied 
 To form strong buskins of well-season’d hide. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 235 
 
 Of four assistants, who his labour share, 
 
 Three now w^ere absent on the rural care; 
 
 The fourth drove victims to the suitor-train: 
 
 But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain, 30 
 
 Sigh’d while he furnish’d the luxurious board. 
 
 And wearied Heaven with wishes for his lord. 
 
 Soon as Ulysses near th’ enclosure drew. 
 
 With open mouths the furious mastiffs flew: 
 
 Down sate the sage, and cautious to withstand. 
 
 Let fall th’ offensive truncheon from his hand. 
 
 Sudden the master runs; aloud he calls; 
 
 And from his hasty hand the leather falls; 
 
 With showers of stones he drives them far away; 
 
 The scattering dogs around at distance bay. 40 
 
 “Unhappy stranger!” (thus the faithful swain 
 Began with accents gracious and humane) 
 
 “ What sorrow had been mine, if at my gate 
 Thy reverend age had met a shameful fate! 
 
 Enough of woes already have I known; 
 
 Enough my master’s sorrows and my own. 
 
 While here—ungrateful task!—his herds I feed. 
 
 Ordain’d for lawless rioters to bleed; 
 
 Perhaps, supported at another’s board, 
 
 Far from his country roams my hapless lord! 50 
 
 Or sigh’d in exile forth his latest breath. 
 
 Now cover’d with th’ eternal shade of death! 
 
 But enter this my homely roof, and see 
 Our woods not void of hospitality. 
 
 Then tell me whence thou art, and what the share 
 Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear?” 
 
 He said; and, seconding the kind request, 
 
 With friendly steps precedes his unknown guest. 
 
 A shaggy goat’s soft hide beneath him spread, 
 
 And with fresh rushes heap’d an ample bed: 60 
 
 Joy touch’d the hero’s tender soul, to find 
 So just reception from a heart so kind: 
 
 And, “Oh, ye gods! with all your blessings grace,” 
 
 He thus broke forth, “this friend of human race!” 
 
236 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 The swain replied: “It never was our guise 
 To slight the poor, or aught humane despise; 
 
 For Jove unfolds our hospitable door, 
 
 'Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the poor. 
 
 Little, alas! is all the good I can; 
 
 A man oppress’d, dependent, yet a man: 70 
 
 Accept such treatment as a swain affords. 
 
 Slave to the insolence of youthful lords! 
 
 Far hence is by unequal gods removed 
 That man of bounties, loving and beloved! 
 
 To whom whate’er his slave enjoys is owed. 
 
 And more, had Fate allow’d, had been bestow’d: 
 
 But Fate condemn’d him to a foreign shore; 
 
 Much have I sorrow’d, but my master more. 
 
 Now cold he lies, to death’s embrace resign’d: 
 
 Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind! 80 
 
 For whose cursed cause, in Agamemnon’s name. 
 
 He trod so fatally the paths of Fame.” 
 
 His vest succinct then girding round his waist, 
 
 Forth rush’d the swain with hospitable haste. 
 
 Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run. 
 
 Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun: 
 
 Of two, his cutlass lanced th@ spouting blood; 
 
 These quarter’d, singed, and fix’d on forks of wood, 
 
 All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; 
 
 And, smoking, back the tasteful viands drew, 90 
 
 Broachers and all; then on the board display’d 
 
 The ready meal, before Ulysses laid 
 
 With flour imbrown’d; next mingled wine yet new, 
 
 And luscious as the bees’ nectareous dew: 
 
 Then sate companion of the friendly feast. 
 
 With open look; and thus bespoke his guest: 
 
 “Take with free welcome what our hands prepare, 
 Such food as falls to simple servants’ share; 
 
 The best our lords consume; those thoughtless peers. 
 
 Rich without bounty, guilty without fears; 100 
 
 Yet sure the gods their impious acts detest. 
 
 And honour justice and the righteous breast. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 237 
 
 || 
 
 j Pirates and conquerors of harden’d mind, 
 i' The foes of peace, and scourges of mankind, 
 
 ! To whom offending men are made a prey 
 When Jove in vengeance gives a land away: 
 
 Ev’n these, when of their ill-got spoils possess’d, 
 
 I Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast: 
 
 I Some voice of God close whispering from within, 
 ‘Wretch! this is villany, and this is sin.’ 110 
 
 But these, no doubt, some oracle explore. 
 
 That tells the great Ulysses is no more. 
 
 Hence springs their confidence, and from our sighs 
 Their rapine strengthens, and their riots rise: 
 
 I Constant as Jove the night and day bestows, 
 j Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows. 
 
 None match’d this hero’s wealth, of all who reign 
 I O’er the fair islands of the neighbouring main. 
 
 Nor all the monarchs whose far-dreaded sway 
 ' The wide-extended continents obey: 120 
 
 First, on the main-land, of Ulysses’ breed. 
 
 Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean’s margin feed; 
 
 I As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear’d: 
 
 I As many lodgements for the tusky herd; 
 
 Those foreign keepers guard: and here are seen 
 Twelve herds of goats that graze our utmost green; 
 
 To native pastors is their charge assign’d. 
 
 And mine the care to feed the bristly kind: 
 
 Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd, 
 i All to the suitors’ wasteful board preferr’d.” 130 
 
 I Thus he, benevolent. His unknown guest 
 With hunger keen devours the savoury feast; 
 
 While schemes of vengeance ripen in his breast. 
 
 Silent and thoughtful while the board he eyed, 
 
 |i Eumseus pours on high the purple tide; 
 
 The king with smiling looks his joy express’d. 
 
 And thus the kind, inviting host address’d: 
 
 “Say now, what man is he, the man deplored, 
 
 ‘ So rich, so potent, whom you style your lord? 
 
 ] Late with such affluence and possessions bless’d, 140 
 And now in honour’s glorious bed at rest? 
 
238 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 Whoever was the warrior, he must be 
 To Fame no stranger, nor perhaps to me; 
 
 Who (so the gods and so the fates ordain’d) 
 
 H^ve wander’d many a sea and many a land.” 
 
 “Small is the faith the prince and queen ascribe,” 
 Replied Eumseus, “to the wandering tribe. 
 
 For needy strangers still to flattery fly. 
 
 And want too oft betrays the tongue to lie. 
 
 Each vagrant traveller, that touches here, 150 
 
 Deludes with fallacies the royal ear. 
 
 To dear remembrance makes his image rise, 
 
 And calls the springing sorrows from her eyes. 
 
 Such thou may’st be. But he whose name you crave 
 Moulders in earth, or welters on the wave. 
 
 Or food for fish or dogs his relics lie, 
 
 Or torn by birds, and scatter’d through the sky; 
 
 So perish’d he: and left (for ever lost) 
 
 Much wo to all, but sure to me the most. 
 
 So mild a master never shall I find; 160 
 
 Less dear the parents whom I left behind; 
 
 Less soft my mother, less my father kind. 
 
 Not with such transport would my eyes run o’er. 
 
 Again to hail them in their native shore. 
 
 As loved Ulysses once more to embrace. 
 
 Restored and breathing in his natal-place. 
 
 That name, for ever dread, yet ever dear, 
 
 Ev’n in his absence I pronounce with fear: 
 
 In my respect, he bears a prince’s part: 
 
 But lives a very brother in my heart.” 170 
 
 Thus spoke the faithful swain, and thus rejoin’d 
 The master of his grief, the man of patient mind: 
 
 “Ulysses, friend! shall view his old abodes, 
 
 (Distrustful as thou art,) nor doubt the gods. 
 
 Nor speak I rashly, but with faith averr’d. 
 
 And what I speak attesting Heaven has heard. 
 
 If so, a cloak and vesture be my meed: 
 
 Till his return no title shall I plead. 
 
 Though certain be my news, and great my need. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 239 
 
 Whom want itself can force untruths to tell, 180 
 
 My soul detests him as the gates of hell. 
 
 Thou first be witness, hospitable Jove, 
 
 And every god inspiring social love! 
 
 And witness every household power that waits 
 Guard of these fires, and angel of these gates! 
 
 Ere the next moon increase, or this decay. 
 
 His ancient realms Ulysses shall survey; 
 
 In blood and dust each proud oppressor mourn. 
 
 And the lost glories of his house return.” 
 
 “Nor shall that meed be thine, nor ever more 190 
 Shall loved Ulysses hail this happy shore,” 
 
 Replied Eumasus: “to the present hour 
 
 Now turn thy thought, and joys within our power. 
 
 I From sad reflection let my soul repose; 
 
 The name of him awakes a thousand woes. 
 
 But guard him, gods! and to these arms restore I 
 Not his true consort can desire him more; 
 
 Not old Laertes, broken with despair; 
 
 Not young Telemachus, his blooming heir. 
 
 Alas, Telemachus! my sorrows flow 200 
 
 Afresh for thee, my second cause of wo! 
 
 Like some fair plant, set by a heavenly hand. 
 
 He grew, he flourish’d, and he bless’d the land; 
 
 In all the youth his father’s image shined. 
 
 Bright in his person, brighter in his mind. 
 
 What man, or god, deceived his better sense. 
 
 Far on the swelling seas to wander hence? 
 
 To distant Pylos hapless is he gone. 
 
 To seek his father’s fate, and find his own! 
 
 ^ For traitors wait his way, with dire design 210 
 
 To end at once the great Arcesian line. 
 
 But let us leave him to their wills above; 
 
 I The fates of men are in the hand of Jove. 
 
 I And now, my venerable guest! declare 
 ' Your name, your parents, and your native air; 
 
 Sincere, from whence begun your course relate. 
 
 And to what ship I owe the friendly freight?” 
 
240 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 Thus he: and thus, with prompt invention bold, 
 
 The cautious chief his ready story told: 
 
 “On dark reserve what better can prevail, 220 
 
 Or from the fluent tongue produce the tale, 
 
 Than when two friends, alone, in peaceful place 
 Confer, and wines and cates the table grace; 
 
 But most, the kind inviter’s cheerful face? 
 
 Thus might we sit, with social goblets crowned. 
 
 Till the whole circle of the year goes round; 
 
 Not the whole circle of the year would close 
 My long narration of a life of woes. 
 
 But such was Heaven’s high will! Know then, I came 
 From sacred Crete, and from a sire of fame: 230 
 
 Castor Hylacides, (that name he bore,) 
 
 Beloved and honour’d in his native shore; 
 
 Bless’d in his riches, in his children more. 
 
 Sprung of a handmaid, from a bought embrace, 
 
 I shared his kindness with his lawful race; 
 
 But when that fate which all must undergo 
 From earth removed him to the shades below. 
 
 The large domain his greedy sons divide. 
 
 And each was portion’d as the lots decide. 
 
 Little, alas I was left my wretched share, 240 
 
 Except a house, a covert from the air: 
 
 But what by niggard Fortune was denied, 
 
 A willing widow’s copious wealth supplied. 
 
 My valour was my plea, a gallant mind 
 That, true to honour, never lagg’d behind: 
 
 (The sex is ever to a soldier kind.) 
 
 Now wasting years my former strength confound. 
 
 And added woes have bow’d me to the ground; 
 
 Yet by the stubble you may guess the grain. 
 
 And mark the ruins of no vulgar man. 250 
 
 Me, Pallas gave to lead the martial storm. 
 
 And the fair ranks of battle to deform; 
 
 Me, Mars inspired to turn the foe to flight. 
 
 And tempt the secret ambush of the night. 
 
 Let ghastly Death in all his forms appear, 
 
 I saw him not, it was not mine to fear. 
 
241 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 Before the rest I raised my ready steel; 
 
 The first I met, he yielded or he fell. 
 
 But works of peace my soul disdain’d to bear, 
 
 The rural labour, or domestic care. 
 
 To laise the mast, the missile dart to wing. 
 
 And send swift arrows from the bounding string. 
 
 Were arts the gods made grateful to my mind; 
 
 Those gods, who turn (to various ends design’d) 
 
 The various thoughts and talents of mankind. 
 
 Befoie the Grecians touch’d the Trojan plain. 
 
 Nine times commander, or by land or main. 
 
 In foreign fields I spread my glory far. 
 
 Great in the praise, rich in the spoils of war: 
 
 Thence charged with riches, as increased in fame, 270 
 To Crete return’d, an honourable name. 
 
 But when great Jove that direful war decreed. 
 
 Which roused all Greece, and made the mighty bleed; 
 Our states myself and Idomen employ 
 To lead their fleets, and carry death to Troy. 
 
 Nine years we warr’d; the tenth saw Ilion fall: 
 Homeward we sail’d, but Heaven dispersed us all. 
 
 One only month my wife enjoy’d my stay; 
 
 So will’d the god who gives and takes away. 
 
 Nine ships I mann’d, equipp’d with ready stores, 280 
 Intent to voyage to th’ Egyptian shores; 
 
 In feast and sacrifice my chosen train 
 1 Six days consumed: the seventh we plough’d the main. 
 
 I Crete’s ample fields diminish to our eye; 
 
 Before the Boreal blast the vessels fly; 
 
 ' Safe through the level seas we sweep our way; 
 
 The steersman governs, and the ships obey; 
 
 The fifth fair morn we stem th’ Egyptian tide, 
 
 1 And tilting o’er the bay the vessels ride: 
 
 To anchor there my fellows I command, 290 
 
 ! And spies commission’d to explore the land. 
 
 I But, sway’d by lust of gain, and headlong will, 
 
 : The coast they ravage, and the natives kill. 
 
 The spreading clamour to their city flies, 
 
 . And horse and foot in mingled tumult rise. 
 
 n Q 
 
242 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 The reddening dawn reveals the circling fields, 
 
 Horrid with bristly spears and glancing shields. 
 
 Jove thunder’d on their side. Our guilty head 
 We turn’d to flight; the gathering vengeance spread 
 On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lie dead. 300 
 I then explored my thought, what course to prove; 
 
 (And sure the thought was dictated by Jove: ^ 
 
 Oh, had he left me to that happier doom. 
 
 And saved the life of miseries to come!) 
 
 The radiant helmet from my brows unlaced. 
 
 And low on earth my shield and javelin cast, 
 
 I meet the monarch with a suppliant’s face. 
 
 Approach his chariot, and his knees embrace. 
 
 He heard, he saved, he placed me at his side; 
 
 My state he pitied, and my tears he dried, 310 
 
 Restrain’d the rage the vengeful foe express’d. 
 
 And turn’d the deadly weapons from my breast. 
 
 Pious! to guard the hospitable rite. 
 
 And fearing Jove, whom mercy’s works delight. 
 
 In Egypt thus, with peace and plenty bless’d, 
 
 I lived (and happy still had lived) a guest. 
 
 On seven bright years successive blessings wait; 
 
 The next changed all the colour of my fate. 
 
 A false Phoenician, of insidious mind. 
 
 Versed in vile arts, and foe to human kind, 320 
 
 With semblance fair invites me to his home; 
 
 I seized the proffer (ever fond to roam:) 
 
 Domestic in his faithless roof I staid. 
 
 Till the swift sun his annual circle made. 
 
 To Lybia then he meditates the way; 
 
 With guileful art a stranger to betray, 
 
 And sell to bondage in a foreign land: 
 
 Much doubting, yet compel’d, I quit the strand. 
 
 Through the mid seas the nimble pinnace sails, 
 
 Aloof from Crete, before the northern gales; 330 
 
 But when remote her chalky cliffs we lost. 
 
 And far from ken of any other coast; 
 
 When all was wild expanse of sea and air; 
 
 Then doom’d high Jove due vengeance to prepare. 
 
243 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 He hung a night of horrors o’er their head 
 (The shaded ocean blacken’d as it spread); 
 
 He launch’d the fiery bolt; from pole to pole 
 Bioad buist the lightnings, deep the thunders roll; 
 
 In giddy rounds the whirling ship is toss’d, 
 
 And all in clouds of smothering sulphur lost. 340 
 
 As from a hanging rock’s tremendous height, 
 
 The sable crows with intercepted flight 
 
 Hi op headlong; scarr’d, and black with sulphurous hue: 
 
 So from the deck are hurl’d the ghastly crew. 
 
 Such end the wicked found! but Jove’s intent 
 Was yet to save th’ oppress’d and innocent. 
 
 Placed on the mast, (the last resource of life,) 
 
 With winds and waves I held unequal strife; 
 
 For nine long days the billows tilting o’er, 
 
 The tenth soft wafts me to Thesprotia’s shore. 850 
 
 The monarch’s son a shipwreck’d wretch relieved, 
 
 The sire with hospitable rites received. 
 
 And in his palace like a brother placed, 
 
 With gifts of price and gorgeous garments graced. 
 
 While here I sojourn’d, oft I heard the fame 
 How late Ulysses to the country came, 
 
 How loved, how honour’d, in this court he stay’d, 
 
 And here his whole collected treasure laid; 
 
 I saw myself the vast unnumber’d store 
 
 Of steel elaborate, and refulgent ore, 3C0 
 
 And brass high heap’d amidst the regal dome; 
 
 Immense supplies for ages yet to come I 
 Meantime, he voyaged to explore the will 
 Of Jove, on high Dodona’s holy hill. 
 
 What means might best his safe return avail, 
 
 To come in pomp, or bear a secret sail? 
 
 Full oft has Phidon, while he pour’d the wine, 
 
 Attesting solemn all the powers divine. 
 
 That soon Ulysses would return, declared. 
 
 The sailors waiting, and the ships prepared. 370 
 
 But first the king dismiss’d me from his shores. 
 
 For fair Dulichium, crown’d with fruitful stores; 
 
244 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 To good Acastus’ friendly care consign’d: 
 
 But other counsels pleased the sailor’s mind: 
 
 New frauds were plotted by the faithless train, 
 
 And misery demands me once again. 
 
 Soon as remote from shore they plough the wave, 
 
 With ready hands they rush to seize their slave; 
 
 Then with these tatter’d rags they wrap me round, ^ 
 (Stripp’d of my own,) and to the vessel bound. 380 
 
 At eve, at Ithaca’s delightful land 
 The ship arrived: forth issuing on the sand 
 They sought repast; while, to th’ unhappy kind, 
 
 The pitying gods themselves my chains unbind. 
 
 Soft I descended, to the sea applied 
 My naked breast, and shot along the tide. 
 
 Soon pass’d beyond their sight, I left the flood. 
 
 And took the spreading shelter of the wood. 
 
 Their prize escaped, the faithless pirates mourn’d; 
 
 But deem’d inquiry vain, and to their ship return’d. 890 
 Screen’d by protecting gods from hostile eyes. 
 
 They led me to a good man and a wise. 
 
 To live beneath,thy hospitable care, 
 
 And wait the woes Heaven dooms me yet to bear.” 
 
 “Unhappy guest! whose sorrows touch my mind!” 
 Thus good Eumseus with a sigh rejoin’d; 
 
 “For real sufferings since I grieve sincere. 
 
 Check not with fallacies the springing tear; 
 
 Nor turn the passion into groundless joy 
 For him, whom Heaven has destined to destroy. 400 
 Oh! had he perished on some well-fought day. 
 
 Or in his friends’ embraces died away! 
 
 That grateful Greece with streaming eyes might raise 
 Historic marbles, to record his praise; 
 
 His praise, eternal on the faithful stone. 
 
 Had with transmissive honours graced his son. 
 
 Now, snatch’d by harpies to the dreary coast. 
 
 Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost! 
 
 While pensive in this solitary den. 
 
 Far from gay cities and the ways of men. 
 
 410 
 
245 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 I linger life: nor to the court repair, 
 
 But when the constant queen commands my care; 
 
 Or when, to taste her hospitable board, 
 
 I Some guest arrives, with rumours of her lord; 
 
 And these indulge their want, and those their wo, 
 
 And here the tears, and there the goblets flow. 
 
 By many such I have been warn’d; but chief 
 By one iEtolian robb’d of all belief, 
 
 W^hose hap it was to this our roof to roam. 
 
 For murder banish’d from his native home. 420 
 
 He swore, Ulysses on the coasf of Crete 
 Staid but a season to refit his fleet; 
 
 A few revolving months should waft him o’er. 
 
 Fraught with bold warriors, and a boundless store. 
 
 O thou! whom age has taught to understand. 
 
 And Heaven has guided with a favouring hand, 
 
 On god or mortal to obtrude a lie 
 Forbear, and dread to flatter as to die. 
 
 Not for such ends my house and heart are free. 
 
 But dear respect to Jove, and charity.” 430 
 
 “And why, oh, swain of unbelieving mind!” 
 
 Thus quick replied the wisest of mankind, 
 
 “Doubt you my oath? Yet more my faith to try, 
 
 A solemn compact let us ratify. 
 
 And witness every power that rules the sky: 
 
 If here Ulysses from his labours rest, 
 
 I Be then my prize a tunic and a vest; 
 j And, where my hopes invite me, straight transport 
 I In safety to Dulichium’s friendly court, 
 i But if he greets not thy desiring eye, 440 
 
 I Hurl me from yon dread precipice on high; 
 
 !' The due reward of fraud and perjury.” 
 
 ! “Doubtless, oh guest! great laud and praise were mine,” 
 (Replied the swain, for spotless faith divine,) 
 j “If, after social rites and gifts bestow’d, 
 
 I stain’d my hospitable hearth with blood. 
 
 I How would the gods my righteous toils succeed, 
 
 And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed? 
 
246 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 No more. Th’ approaching hours of silent night 
 First claim refection, then to rest invite; 
 
 Beneath our humble cottage let us haste, 
 
 And here, unenvied, rural dainties taste.” 
 
 Thus communed these; while to their lowly dome 
 The full-fed swine return’d with evening home; 
 Compet’d, reluctant, to their several sties. 
 
 With din obstreperous, and ungrateful cries. 
 
 Then to the slaves: “Now from the herd the best 
 Select in honour of our foreign guest: 
 
 W^ith him let us the genial banquet shaie, 
 
 For great and many are the griefs we bear; 
 
 While those who from our labours heap their board, 
 Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their lord.” 
 
 Thus speaking, with despatchful hand he took 
 A weighty axe, and cleft the solid oak: 
 
 This on the earth he piled; a boar full fed, 
 
 Of five years age, before the pile was led: 
 
 The swain, whom acts of piety delight. 
 
 Observant of the gods, begins the rite: 
 
 First shears the forehead of the bristly boar. 
 
 And suppliant stands, invoking every power 
 To speed Ulysses to his native shore. 
 
 A knotty stake then aiming at his head, ^ 
 
 Down dropp’d he groaning, and the spirit fled. 
 
 The scorching flames climb round on every side: 
 Then the singed members they with skill divide; 
 
 On these, in rolls of fat involved with art. 
 
 450 
 
 460 
 
 I 
 
 470 
 
 The choicest morsels lay from every part. 
 
 Some in the flames, bestrew’d with flour, they threw; 
 Some cut in fragments, from the forks they drew. 
 These while on several tables they dispose, 
 
 As priest himself the blameless rustic rose; 
 
 Expert the destined victim to dispart 
 In seven just portions, pure of hand and heart. 
 
 One sacred to the nymphs apart they lay; 
 
 Another to the winged son of May; 
 
 The rural tribe in common share the rest. 
 
 The king the chine, the honour of the feast, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 247 
 
 Who sate delighted at his servant’s board; 
 
 The faithful servant joy’d his unknown lord. 
 
 “Oh! be thou dear,” Ulysses cried, “to Jove, 490 
 As well thou claim’st a grateful stranger’s love!” 
 
 “Be then thy thanks,” the bounteous swain replied, 
 “Enjoyment of the good the gods provide. 
 
 From God’s own hand descend our joys and woes; 
 
 These he decrees, and he but suffers those: 
 
 All power is his, and whatso’er he wills. 
 
 The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils.” 
 
 This said, the first-fruits to the gods he gave; 
 
 Then pour’d of offer’d wine the sable wave: 
 
 In great Ulysses’ hand he placed the bowl, 600 
 
 He sate, and sweet refection cheer’d his soul. 
 
 The bread from canisters Mesaubius gave; 
 
 (Eumaeus’ proper treasure bought this slave. 
 
 And led from Taphos, to attend his board, 
 
 A servant added to his absent lord;) 
 
 His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay. 
 
 And from the banquet take the bowls away. 
 
 And now the rage of hunger was repress’d, 
 
 And each betakes him to his couch to rest. 
 
 Now came the night, and darkness cover’d o’er 510 
 The face of things: the winds began to roar; 
 
 The driving storm the watery west-wind pours. 
 
 And Jove descends in deluges of showers. 
 
 Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies. 
 
 Foreseeing from the first the storm would rise; 
 
 In mere necessity of coat and cloak. 
 
 With artful preface to his host he spoke: 
 
 “Hear me, my friends! who this good banquet grace; 
 ’Tis sweet to play the fool in time and place. 
 
 And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, 520 
 
 Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile, 
 
 The grave in merry measures frisk about, 
 
 And many a long-repented word bring out. 
 
 Since to be talkative I now commence. 
 
 Let wit cast off the sullen yoke of sense. 
 
248 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 Once I was strong, (would Heaven restore those days!) 
 And with my betters claim’d a share of praise. 
 
 Ulysses, Menelaus, led forth a band. 
 
 And join’d me with them (’twas their own command): 
 
 A deathful ambush for the foe to lay, 530 
 
 Beneath Troy’s walls by night we took our way: 
 
 There, clad in arms, along the marshes spread, ^ 
 
 We made the osier-fringed bank our bed. 
 
 Full soon th’ inclemency of heaven I feel. 
 
 Nor had these shoulders covering but of steel. 
 
 Sharp blew the north; snow whitening all the fields 
 Froze with the blast, and, gathering, glazed our shields: 
 There all but I, well fenced with cloak and vest. 
 
 Lay cover’d by their ample shields at rest. 
 
 Fool that I was! I left behind my own; 540 
 
 The skill of weather and of winds unknown. 
 
 And trusted to my coat and shield alone! 
 
 When now was wasted more than half the night. 
 
 And the stars faded at approaching light; 
 
 Sudden I jogg’d Ulysses, who was laid 
 Fast by my side, and, shivering, thus I said: 
 
 “‘Here longer in this field I cannot lie; 
 
 The winter pinches, and with cold I die. 
 
 And die ashamed—oh, wisest of mankind!— 
 
 The only fool who left his cloak behind.’ 550 
 
 “He thought, and answer’d: hardly waking yet. 
 
 Sprung in his mind a momentary wit 
 (That wit which, or in council, or in fight. 
 
 Still met th’ emergence, and determined right): 
 
 ‘“Hush thee,’ he cried, soft whispering in my ear, 
 ‘Speak not a word, lest any Greek may hear.’ 
 
 And then, supporting on his arm his head, 
 
 ‘Hear me, companions!’ thus aloud he said; 
 
 ‘Methinks too distant from the fleet we lie: 
 
 Ev’n now a vision stood before my eye, 500 
 
 And sure the warning vision was from high: 
 
 Let from among us some swift courier rise. 
 
 Haste to the general, and demand supplies.’ 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIV. 
 
 249 
 
 I ‘‘Up started Thoas straight, Andrsemon’s son, 
 j Nimbly he rose, and cast his garment down; 
 
 Instant, the racer vanish’d off the ground; 
 
 That instant in his cloak I wrapp’d me round: 
 
 And safe I slept, till brightly-dawning shone 
 The morn conspicuous on her golden throne. 
 
 Oh, were my strength as then, as then my age! 670 
 
 Some friend would fence me from the winter’s rage. 
 
 I "^ot, tatter d as I look, I challenged then 
 
 I The honours and the offices of men: 
 
 II Some master, or some servant, would allow 
 ; A cloak and vest. But I am nothing now!” 
 
 “Well hast thou spoke,” rejoin’d th’ attentive swain; 
 “Thy lips let fall no idle word, or vain! 
 
 Nor garments shalt thou want, nor aught beside, 
 
 ; Meet for the wandering suppliant to provide. 
 
 ! But in the morning take thy clothes again, 580 
 
 ;l For here one vest suffices every swain; 
 
 - No change of garments to our hinds is known: 
 j But when return’d, the good Ulysses’ son 
 With better hand shall grace with fit attires 
 1 His guest, and send thee where thy soul desires.” 
 
 The honest herdsman rose, as this he said, 
 
 And drew before the hearth the stranger’s bed: 
 
 The fleecy spoils of sheep, a goat’s rough hide 
 i He spreads; and adds a mantle thick and wide; 
 
 ' With store to heap above him, and below, 590 
 
 And guard each quarter as the tempests blow. 
 
 There lay the king and all the rest supine; 
 
 All but the careful master of the swine: 
 
 ! Forth hasted he to tend his bristly care; 
 
 ' Well arm’d, and fenced against nocturnal air; 
 
 1 His weighty faulchion o’er his shoulder tied; 
 
 1 His shaggy cloak a mountain-goat supplied: 
 
 ' With his broad spear, the dread of dogs and men, 
 
 I He seeks his lodging in the rocky den. 
 
 There to the tusky herd he bends his way, 600 
 
 Where, screen’d from Boreas, high o’er-arch’d they lay. 
 11 * 
 
BOOK XV. 
 
 The Return of Telemachus; Adventures of EumiBus. 
 
 Argument. —The g'oddess Minerva commands Telemachus in a vision to 
 return to Ithaca. Pisistratus and he take leave of Menelaiis, and arrive at 
 Pylos, where they part; and Telemachus sets sail, after having" received oai 
 board Theoclymenus the soothsayer. The scene then chang'es to the 
 cottag"e of Eumseus, who entertains Ulysses with a recital of his adven¬ 
 tures. In the mean time, Telemachus arrives on the coast; and, sending" 
 the vessel to the town, proceeds by himself to the lodg"e of Eumbeus. 
 
 Now had Minerva reach’d thase ample plains, ■ 
 
 Famed for the dance, where Menelaiis reigns; i 
 
 Anxious she flies to great Ulysses’ heir, j 
 
 His instant voyage challenged all her care. j 
 
 Beneath the royal portico display’d, j 
 
 With Nestor’s son, Telemachus was laid; i 
 
 In sleep profound the son of Nestor lies: S 
 
 Not thine, Ulysses! Care unseal’d his eyes: j 
 
 Restless he grieved, with various fears oppress’d, j 
 
 And all thy fortune roll’d within his breast. 10 | 
 
 When, “O Telemachus!” the goddess said, i 
 
 “Too long in vain, too widely hast thou stray’d; j 
 
 Thus leaving careless thy paternal right j 
 
 The robbers’ prize, the prey to lawless might. | 
 
 On fond pursuits neglectful while you roam, | 
 
 Ev’n now the hand of rapine sacks the dome. J 
 
 Hence to Atrides; and his leave implore j 
 
 To launch thy vessel for thy natal shore: ; 
 
 Fly, while thy mother virtuous yet withstands 
 Her kindred’s wishes and her sire’s cornmands; 20 ; 
 
 Through both, Eurymachus pursues the dame. 
 
 And with the noblest gifts asserts his claim. 
 
 Hence, therefore, while thy stores thine own remain; 
 
 Thou know’st the practice of the female train: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 251 
 
 Lost in the children of the present spouse, 
 
 They slight the pledges of their former vows; 
 
 Their love is always with the lover past; 
 
 Still the succeeding flame expels the last. 
 
 Let o’er thy house some chosen maid preside, 
 
 Till Heaven decrees to bless thee in a bride. oO 
 
 But now thy more attentive ears incline, 
 
 Observe the warnings of a power divine; 
 
 For thee, their snares the suitor lords shall lay 
 In Samos’ sands, or straits of Ithaca; 
 
 To seize thy life shall lurk the murderous band. 
 
 Ere yet thy footsteps press thy native land. 
 
 No: sooner far their riot and their lust 
 All-covering earth shall bury deep in dust! 
 
 Then distant from the scatter’d islands steer. 
 
 Nor let the night retard thy full career; 40 
 
 Thy heavenly guardian shall instruct the gales 
 To smooth thy passage and supply thy sails; 
 
 And when at Ithaca thy labour ends. 
 
 Send to the town thy vessel with thy friends; 
 
 But seek thou first the master of the swine. 
 
 For still to thee his loyal thoughts incline; 
 
 There pass the night: while he his course pursues 
 To bring Penelop4 the wish’d-for news. 
 
 That thou, safe sailing from the Pylian strand. 
 
 Art come to bless her in thy native land.” 50 
 
 Thus spoke the goddess, and resumed her flight 
 To the pure regions of eternal light. 
 
 Meanwhile, Pisistratus he gently shakes. 
 
 And with these words the slumbering youth awakes: 
 
 “Rise, son of Nestor; for the road prepare. 
 
 And join the harness’d coursers to the car.” 
 
 “What cause,” he cried, “can justify our flight. 
 
 To tempt the dangers of forbidding night? 
 
 Here wait we rather, till approaching day 
 Shall prompt our speed, and point the ready way. 
 
 Nor think of flight before the Spartan king 
 Shall bid farewell, and bounteous presents bring; 
 
 60 
 
252 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 Gifts which, to distant ages safely stored, 
 
 The sacred act of friendship shall record.” 
 
 Thus he. But when the dawn bestreak’d the east. 
 
 The king from Helen rose, and sought his guest. 
 
 As soon as his approach the hero knew. 
 
 The splendid mantle round him first he threw. 
 
 Then o’er his ample shoulders whirl’d the cloak. 
 Respectful met the monarch, and bespoke: 70 
 
 “Hail, great Atrides, favour’d of high Jove! 
 
 Let not thy friends in vain for license move. 
 
 Swift let us measure back the watery way. 
 
 Nor check our speed, impatient of delay.” 
 
 “If with desire so strong thy bosom glows. 
 
 Ill,” said the king, “should I thy wish oppose; 
 
 For oft in others freely I reprove 
 The ill-timed efforts of officious love; 
 
 Who love too much, hate in the like extreme. 
 
 And both the golden mean alike condemn. 80 
 
 Alike he thwarts the hospitable end. 
 
 Who drives the free, or stays the hasty friend; 
 
 True friendship’s laws are by this rule express’d. 
 Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest. 
 
 Yet stay, my friends, and in your chariot take 
 The noblest presents that our love can make. 
 
 Meantime, commit we to our women’s care 
 Some choice domestic viands to prepare; 
 
 The traveller, rising from the banquet gay, 
 
 Eludes the labours of the tedious way. 9C 
 
 Then if a wider course shall rather please 
 Through spacious Argos, and the realms of Greece, 
 Atrides in his chariot shall attend; 
 
 Himself thy convoy to each royal friend: 
 
 No prince will let Ulysses’ heir remove 
 Without some pledge, some monument of love: 
 
 These will the cauldron, these the tripod give. 
 
 From those the well-pair’d mules we shall receive. 
 
 Or bowl emboss’d, whose golden figures live.” 
 
 To whom the youth, for prudence famed, replied: 100 
 “O monarch, care of Heaven! thy people’s pride! 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 253 
 
 No friend in Ithaca my place supplies, 
 
 No powerful hands are there, no watchful eyes: 
 
 My stores exposed and fenceless house demand 
 The speediest succour from my guardian hand; 
 
 Lest, in a search too anxious and too vain 
 Of one lost joy, I lose what yet remain.” 
 
 His purpose when the generous warrior heard. 
 
 He charged the household cates to be prepared. 
 
 Now with the dawn, from his adjoining home, 110 
 
 Was Boethoedes Etoneus come; 
 
 Swift as the word he forms the rising blaze. 
 
 And o’er the coals the smoking fragments lays. 
 
 Meantime, the king, his son, and Helen, went 
 Where the rich wardrobe breathed a costly scent. 
 
 The king selected from the glittering rows 
 A bowl; the prince a silver beaker chose. 
 
 The beauteous queen revolved with careful eyes 
 Her various textures of unnumber’d dyes. 
 
 And chose the largest; with no vulgar art 120 
 
 Her own fair hands embroider’d every part: 
 
 Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright. 
 
 Like radiant Hesper o’er the gems of night. 
 
 Then with each gift they hasten’d to their guest. 
 
 And thus the king Ulysses’ heir address’d: 
 
 “Since fix’d are thy resolves, may thundering Jove 
 With happiest omens thy desires approve! 
 
 This silver bowl, whose costly margins shine 
 Enchased with gold, this valued gift be thine; 
 
 To me this present, of Vulcanian frame, 130 
 
 From Sidon’s hospitable monarch came; 
 
 To thee we now consign the precious load. 
 
 The pride of kings, and labour of a god.” 
 
 Then gave the cup; while Megapenthes brought 
 The silver vase with living sculpture wrought. 
 
 The beauteous queen, advancing next, display’d 
 The shining veil, and thus enddaring said: 
 
 “Accept, dear youth, this monument of love. 
 
 Long since, in better days, by Helen wove: 
 
254 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 Safe in thy mother’s care the vesture lay, 140 
 
 To deck thy bride, and grace thy nuptial-day. 
 
 Meantime, may’st thou with happiest speed regain 
 Thy stately palace, and thy wide domain.” 
 
 She said; and gave the veil. With grateful look 
 The prince the variegated present took. 
 
 And now, when through the royal dome they pass’d. 
 
 High on a throne the king each stranger placed. 
 
 A golden ewer th’ attendant damsel brings. 
 
 Replete with water from the crystal springs; 
 
 With copious streams the shining vase supplies 150 
 
 A silver laver of capacious size. 
 
 They wash. The tables in fair order spread. 
 
 The glittering canisters are crown’d with bread; 
 
 Viands of various kinds allure the taste. 
 
 Of choicest sort and savour—rich repast! ' 
 
 While Etoneus portions out the shares, 
 
 Atrides’son the purple draught prepares. 
 
 And now (each sated with the genial feast. 
 
 And the short rage of thirst and hunger ceased) 
 
 Ulysses’ son, with his illustrious friend, 160 
 
 The horses join, the polish’d car ascend. 
 
 Along the court the fiery steeds rebound. 
 
 And the wide portal echoes to the sound. 
 
 The king precedes; a bowl with fragrant wine 
 (Libation destined to the powers divine) 
 
 His right hand held: before the steeds he stands. 
 
 Then, mix’d with prayers, he utters these commands: 
 
 “Farewell, and prosper, youths! let Nestor know 
 What grateful thoughts still in this bosom glow. 
 
 For all the proofs of his paternal care, 170 
 
 Through the long dangers of the ten years’ war.” 
 
 “Ah! doubt not our report,” the prince rejoin’d, 
 
 “Of all the virtues of thy generous mind. 
 
 And, oh! return’d might we Ulysses meet! 
 
 To him thy presents show, thy words repeat: 
 
 How will each speech his grateful wonder raise! 
 
 How will each gift indulge us in thy praise!” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 255 
 
 Scarce ended thus the prince, when on the right 
 Advanced the bird of Jove: auspicious sight! 
 
 A milk-white fowl his clinching talons bore, 180 
 
 With care domestic pamper’d at the floor. 
 
 Peasants in vain with threatening cries pursue, 
 
 In solemn speed the bird majestic flew 
 Full dexter to the car: the prosperous sight 
 Fill’d every breast with wonder and delight. 
 
 But Nestor’s son the cheerful silence broke, 
 
 And in these words the Spartan chief bespoke: 
 
 ‘‘Say, if to us the gods these omens send. 
 
 Or fates peculiar to thyself portend?” 
 
 While yet the monarch paused, with doubts oppress’d. 
 The beauteous queen relieved his labouring breast: 191 
 “Hear me,” she cried, “to whom the gods have given 
 To read this sign, and mystic sense of Heaven: 
 
 As thus the plumy sovereign of the air 
 Left on the mountain’s brow his callow care, 
 
 And wander’d through the wide ethereal way 
 To pour his wrath on yon luxurious prey: 
 
 So shall thy godlike father, toss’d in vain 
 Through all the dangers of the boundless main. 
 
 Arrive, or is perchance already come, 200 
 
 From slaughter’d gluttons to release the dome.” 
 
 “Oh! if this promised bliss by thundering Jove,” 
 
 The prince replied, “stand fix’d in fate above. 
 
 To thee, as to some god. I’ll temples raise. 
 
 And crown thy altars with the costly blaze.” 
 
 He said; and, bending o’er his chariot, flung 
 Athwart the fiery steeds the smarting thong; 
 
 The bounding shafts upon the harness play, 
 
 Till night descending intercepts the way. 
 
 To Diodes, at Pherse, they repair, 210 
 
 Whose boasted sire was sacred Alpheus’ heir; 
 
 With him all night the youthful strangers stay’d. 
 
 Nor found the hospitable rites unpaid. 
 
 But soon as morning from her orient bed 
 Had tinged the mountains with her earliest red, 
 
256 the odyssey, BOOK XV. 
 
 They join’d the steeds, and on the chariot sprung, 
 The brazen portals in their passage rung. 
 
 To Pylos soon they came; when thus begun 
 To Nestor’s heir Ulysses’ godlike son: 
 
 “Let not Pisistratus in vain be press’d, 
 
 Nor unconsenting hear his friend’s request; 
 
 His friend by long hereditary claim, 
 
 In toils his equal, and in years the same. 
 
 No farther from our vessel, I implore, 
 
 The coursers drive; but lash them to the shore. 
 Too long thy father would his friend detain; 
 
 I dread his proffer’d kindness urged in vain.” 
 
 The hero paused, and ponder’d this request, 
 While love and duty warr’d within his breast. 
 
 At length resolved, he turn’d his ready hand, 
 
 And lash’d his panting coursers to the strand. 
 
 There, while within the poop with care he stored 
 The regal presents of the Spartan lord, 
 
 “With speed begone,” said he; “call every mate, 
 Ere yet to Nestor I the tale relate: 
 
 ’Tis true, the fervour of his generous heart 
 Brooks no repulse, nor could’st thou soon depart: 
 Himself will seek thee here, nor wilt thou find 
 In words alone, the Pylian monarch kind. 
 
 But when, arrived, he thy return shall know, 
 
 How will his breast with honest fury glow?” 
 
 This said, the sounding strokes his horses fire. 
 And soon he reach’d the palace of his sire. 
 
 “Now,” cried Telemachus, “with speedy care 
 Hoist every sail, and every oar prepare.” 
 
 Swift as the word his willing mates obey. 
 
 And seize their seats, impatient for the sea. 
 
 Meantime, the prince with sacrifice adores 
 Minerva, and her guardian aid implores; 
 
 When, lo! a wretch ran breathless to the shore. 
 New from his crime, and reeking yet with gore. 
 
 A seer he was, from great Melampus sprung, 
 Melampus, who in Pylos flourish’d long. 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
 240 
 
 250 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 257 
 
 Till, urged by wrongs, a foreign realm he chose, 
 
 Far from the hateful cause of all his woes. 
 
 Neleus his treasures one long year detains; 
 
 As long he groan’d in Phylacus’s chains: 
 
 Meantime, what anguish and what rage, combined. 
 
 For lovely Pero rack’d his labouring mind! 
 
 Yet ’scaped he death; and, vengeful of his wrong, 260 
 To Pylos drove the lowing herds along; 
 
 Then (Neleus vanquish’d, and consign’d the fair 
 To Bias’ arms) he sought a foreign air; 
 
 Argos the rich for his retreat he chose. 
 
 There form’d his empire: there his palace rose. 
 
 From him Antiphates and Mantius came: 
 
 The first begot Oicleus, great in fame. 
 
 And he Amphiaraus, immortal name! 
 
 The people’s saviour, and divinely wise. 
 
 Beloved by Jove, and him who gilds the skies, 270 
 
 Yet short his date of life! by female pride he dies. 
 
 From Mantius, Clitus, whom Aurora’s love 
 Snatch’d for his beauty to the thrones above; 
 
 And Polyphides, on whom Phcebus shone 
 With fullest rays, Amphiaraus now gone: 
 
 In Hyperesia’s groves he made abode. 
 
 And taught mankind the counsels of the god. 
 
 From him sprung Theoclymenus, who found 
 (The sacred wine yet foaming on the ground) 
 Telemachus; whom, as to Heaven he press’d 280 
 
 His ardent vows, the stranger thus address’d: 
 
 “Oh, thou! that dost thy happy course prepare 
 With pure libations and with solemn prayer; 
 
 By that dread power to whom thy vows are paid; 
 
 By all the lives of these; thy own dear head. 
 
 Declare sincerely to no foe’s demand 
 Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.” 
 
 “Prepare then,” said Telemachus, “to know 
 A tale fi'om falsehood free, not free from wo. 
 
 From Ithaca, of royal birth, I came. 
 
 And great Ulysses (ever-honour’d name!) 
 
 R 
 
 290 
 
258 the odyssey, book XV. 
 
 Was once my sire, though now for ever lost, ii ,v 
 
 In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost! 
 
 Whose fate inquiring through the world we rove; ./ 
 The last, the wretched proof of filial love.” 
 
 The stranger then: ‘‘Nor shall I aught conceal, . 
 
 But the dire secret of my fate reveal. ) 
 
 Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew; i 
 
 Whose powerful friends the luckless deed pursue 
 With unrelenting rage, and force from home 300 
 
 The hlood-stain’d exile, ever doom’d to roam. 
 
 But bear, oh! bear me o’er yon azure flood: 
 
 Receive the suppliant! spare my destined blood 1” 
 “Stranger,” replied the prince, “securely rest 
 Affianced in our faith; henceforth our guest.” 
 
 Thus affable, Ulysses’ godlike heir 
 Takes from the stranger’s hand the glittering spear: 
 
 He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste, < 
 
 And by his side the guest accepted placed. 
 
 The chief his orders gives: th’ obedient band 310 
 
 With due observance wait the chief’s command; 
 
 With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind 
 The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind. 
 
 Minerva calls; the ready gales obey 
 With rapid speed to whirl them o’er the sea. 
 
 Crunos they pass’d, next Chalcis roll’d away. 
 
 When thickening darkness closed the doubtful day: 
 
 The silver Phaea’s glittering rills they lost, 
 
 And skimm’d along by Elis’ sacred coast. 
 
 Then cautious through the rocky reaches wind, 320 
 And, turning sudden, shun the death design’d. 
 
 Meantime, the king, Eumaeus, and the rest. 
 
 Sate in the cottage, at their rural feast: 
 
 The banquet pass’d, and satiate every man. 
 
 To try his host, Ulysses thus began: 
 
 “Yet one night more, my friends, indulge your guest. 
 The last I purpose in your walls to rest: 
 
 To-morrow for myself I must provide, 
 
 And only ask your counsel and a guide; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 Patient to roam the street, by hunger led, 
 
 And bless the friendly hand that gives me bread. 
 There in Ulysses’ roof I may relate 
 Ulysses’ wanderings to his royal mate; 
 
 Or, mingling with the suitors haughty train, 
 
 Not undeserving, some support obtain. 
 
 Hermes to me his various gifts imparts. 
 
 Patron of industry and manual arts: 
 
 Few can with me in dextrous works contend, 
 
 The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to lend; 
 
 To turn the tasteful viand o’er the flame. 
 
 Or foam the goblet with a purple stieam. 
 
 Such are the tasks of men of mean estate. 
 
 Whom fortune dooms to serve the rich and great.” 
 
 “Alas!” Eumseus with a sigh rejoin’d, 
 
 “How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind? 
 If on that godless race thou would’st attend. 
 
 Fate owes thee sure a miserable end! 
 
 Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the sky. 
 
 And pull descending vengeance from on high. 
 
 Not such, my friend, the servants of their feast; 
 
 A blooming train in rich embroidery dress’d; 
 
 With earth’s whole tribute the bright table bends. 
 And smiling round celestial youth attends. 
 
 Stay then: no eye askance beholds thee here: 
 Sweet is thy converse to each social ear. 
 
 Well pleased, and pleasing, in our cottage rest. 
 Till good Telemachus accepts his guest ^ . 
 
 With genial gifts, and change of fair attires. 
 
 And safe conveys thee where thy soul desires.” 
 
 To him the man of woes: “Oh, gracious Jove! 
 Reward this stranger’s hospitable love 1 
 Who knows the son of sorrow to relieve, ^ 
 
 Cheers the sad heart, nor lets affliction grieve. 
 
 Of all the ills unhappy mortals know, 
 
 A life of wanderings is the greatest wo: 
 
 On all their weary ways wait care and pain. 
 
 And pine and penury, a meagre train. 
 
 259 
 
 330 
 
 340 
 
 350 
 
 360 
 
260 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 To such a man since harbour you afford, 
 
 Relate the farther fortunes of your lord; 
 
 What cares his mother’s tender breast engage, 370 
 
 And sire, forsaken on the verge of age; 
 
 Beneath the sun prolong they yet their breath? 
 
 Or range the house of darkness and of death?” 
 
 To whom the swain: “Attend what you inquire; 
 Laertes lives, the miserable sire 
 Lives, but implores of every power to lay 
 The burden down, and wishes for the day. 
 
 Torn from his offspring in the eve of life, 
 
 Torn from th’ embraces of his tender wife. 
 
 Sole, and all comfortless, he wastes away 380 
 
 Old age, untimely posting ere his day. 
 
 She too, sad mother! for Ulysses lost 
 Pined out her bloom, and vanish’d to a ghost. 
 
 (So dire a fate, ye righteous gods! avert 
 From every friendly, every feeling heart!) 
 
 While yet she was, though clouded o’er with grief. 
 
 Her pleasing converse minister’d relief: 
 
 With Ctimene, her youngest daughter, bred. 
 
 One roof contain’d us, and one table fed. 
 
 But when the softly-stealing pace of time, 390 
 
 Crept on from childhood into youthful prime. 
 
 To Samos’ isle she sent the wedded fair; 
 
 Me to the fields to tend the rural care; 
 
 Array’d in garments her own hands had wove, 
 
 Nor less the darling object of her love. 
 
 Her hapless death my brighter days o’ercast. 
 
 Yet Providence deserts me not at last; 
 
 My present labours food and drink procure. 
 
 And more, the pleasure to relieve the poor. 
 
 Small is the comfort from the queen to hear 400 
 
 Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear; 
 
 Blank and discountenanced the servants stand. 
 
 Nor dare to question where the proud command: 
 
 No profit springs beneath usurping powers; 
 
 Want feeds not there, where luxury devours; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 Nor harbours charity where riot reigns: 
 
 Proud are the lords, and wretched are the swains.” 
 
 The suffering chief at this began to melt; 
 
 And, “Oh, Eumseus! thou” (he cries) “hast felt 
 The spite of fortune too! her cruel hand 
 Snatch’d thee an infant from thy native land! 
 Snatch’d from thy parents’ arms, thy parents’ eyes. 
 To early wants! a man of miseries! 
 
 Thy whole sad story, from its first, declare: 
 
 Sunk the fair city by the rage of war. 
 
 Where once thy parents dwelt? or did they keep. 
 In humbler life, the lowing herds and sheep? 
 
 So left, perhaps, to tend the fleecy train. 
 
 Rude pirates seized, and shipp’d thee o’er the main? 
 Doom’d a fair prize to grace some prince’s board. 
 The worthy purchase of a foreign lord.” 
 
 “If then my fortunes can delight my friend, 
 
 A story fruitful of events attend: 
 
 Another’s sorrow may thy ear enjoy. 
 
 And wine the lengthen’d intervals employ. 
 
 Long nights the now-declining year bestows; 
 
 A part we consecrate to soft repose, 
 
 A part in pleasing talk we entertain; 
 
 For too much rest itself becomes a pain. 
 
 Let those whom sleep invites, the call obey. 
 
 Their cares resuming with the dawning day: 
 
 Here let us feast, and to the feast be join’d 
 Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind; 
 Review the series of our lives, and taste 
 The melancholy joy of evils past: 
 
 For he who much has suffer’d, much will know; 
 And pleased remembrance builds delight on wo. 
 
 “ Above Ortygia lies an isle of fame. 
 
 Far hence remote, and Syria is the name, 
 
 (There curious eyes, inscribed with wonder, trace 
 The sun’s diurnal, and his annual race;) 
 
 Not large, but fruitful; stored with grass, to keep 
 The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep; 
 
262 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. ‘ 
 
 Her sloping hills the mantling vines adorn, 
 
 And her rich valleys wave with golden corn. 
 
 No want, no famine, the glad natives know. 
 
 Nor sink by sickness to the shades below; 
 
 But when a length of years unnerves the strong, 
 
 Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along. 
 
 They bend the silver bow with tender skill, 45G 
 
 And, void of pain, the silent arrows kill. 
 
 Two equal tribes this fertile land divide. 
 
 Where two fair cities rise with equal pride. 
 
 But both in constant peace one prince obey. 
 
 And Ctesius there, my father, holds the sway. 
 
 Freighted, it seems, with toys of every sort, 
 
 A ship of Sidon anchor’d in our port; 
 
 What-time it chanced the palace entertain’d. 
 
 Skill’d in rich works, a woman of their land: 
 
 This nymph, where anchor’d the Phoenician train, 460 
 To wash her robes descending to the main, 
 
 A smooth-tongued sailor won her to his mind; 
 
 (For love deceives the best of womankind.) 
 
 A sudden trust from sudden liking grew; 
 
 She told her name, her race, and all she knew. 
 
 “‘I too,’ she cried, ‘from glorious Sidon came. 
 
 My father Arybas, of wealthy fame; 
 
 But, snatch’d by pirates from my native place. 
 
 The Taphians sold me to this man’s embrace.’ 
 
 “‘Haste then,’ the false-designing youth replied, 470 
 ‘Haste to thy country: love shall be thy guide: 
 
 Haste to thy father’s house, thy father’s breast; 
 
 For still he lives, and lives with riches bless’d.’ 
 
 “‘Swear first,’ she cried, ‘ye sailors! to restore 
 A wretch in safety to her native shore.’ 
 
 “Swift as she ask’d, the ready sailors swore. 
 
 She then proceeds: ‘Now let our compact made 
 Be nor by signal nor by word betray’d. 
 
 Nor near me any of your crew descried. 
 
 By road frequented, or by fountain-side. 480 
 
 Be silence still our guard. The monarch’s spies 
 (For watchful age is ready to surmise) 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 263 
 
 Are still at hand; and this, reveal’d, must be 
 Death to yourselves, eternal chains to me. 
 
 Your vessel loaded, and your traffic past. 
 
 Despatch a wary messenger with haste; 
 
 Then gold and costly treasures will I bring. 
 
 And more, the infant offspring of the king. 
 
 Him, child-like wandering forth. I’ll lead away, 
 
 (A noble prize!) and to your ship convey.’ 41 
 
 “Thus spoke the dame, and homeward took the road. 
 A year they traffic, and their vessel load. 
 
 Their stores complete, and ready now to weigh, 
 
 A spv was sent their summons to convey i 
 An artist to my father’s palace came. 
 
 With gold and amber chains, elaborate frame: 
 Each female eye the glittering links employ; 
 They turn, review, and cheapen every toy. 
 
 He took th’ occasion, as they stood intent, 
 
 Gave her the sign, and to his vessel went. 
 
 She straight pursued, and seized my willing arm; 
 I follow’d smiling, innocent of harm. 
 
 Three golden goblets in the porch she found, 
 (The guests not enter’d, but the table crown’d;) 
 Hid in her fraudful bosom these she bore: 
 
 Now set the sun, and darken’d all the shore. 
 
 Arriving then, where tilting on the tides 
 Prepared to launch the freighted vessel rides, 
 
 Aboard they heave us, mount their decks, and sweep 
 With level oar along the glassy deep. ^ - 
 
 Six calmy days and six smooth nights we sail, 
 
 And constant Jove supplied the gentle gale. 
 
 The seventh, the fraudful wretch, (no cause descried,) 
 Touch’d by Diana’s vengeful arrow, died. 
 
 Down dropp’d the caitiff-corse, a worthless load, 
 Down to the deep; there roll d, the future food 
 Of fierce sea-wolves and monsters of the flood. 
 
 A helpless infant, I remain’d behind; 
 
 Thence borne to Ithaca by wave and wind; 
 
 Sold to Laertes by divine command. 
 
 And now adopted to a foreign land.” 
 
264 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 To him the king: “Reciting thus thy cares, 
 
 My secret soul in all thy sorrow shares; 
 
 But one choice blessing (such is Jove’s high will) 
 
 Has sweeten’d all thy bitter draught of ill: 
 
 Torn from thy country to no hapless end, 
 
 The gods have, in a master, given a friend. 
 
 Whatever frugal nature needs is thine, 
 
 (For she needs little,) daily bread and wine. 
 
 While I, so many wanderings past, and woes, 530 
 
 Live but on what thy poverty bestows.” 
 
 So pass’d in pleasing dialogue away 
 The night; then down to short repose they lay; 
 
 Till radiant rose the messenger of day. 
 
 While in the port of Ithaca the band 
 Of young Telemachus approach’d the land: 
 
 Their sails they loosed, they lash’d the mast aside. 
 
 And cast their anchors, and the cables tied: 
 
 Then on the breezy shore descending, join 
 
 In grateful banquet o’er the rosy wine. 540 
 
 When thus the prince: “Now each his course pursue; 
 
 I to the fields, and to the city you. 
 
 Long absent hence, I dedicate this day 
 My swains to visit, and the works survey. 
 
 Expect me with the morn, to pay the skies 
 Our debt of safe return in feast and sacrifice.” 
 
 Then Theoclymenus: “But who shall lend. 
 
 Meantime, protection to thy stranger-friend? 
 
 Straight to the queen and palace shall I fly. 
 
 Or, yet more distant, to some lord apply?” 550 
 
 The prince return’d: “Renown’d in days of yore 
 Has stood our father’s hospitable door; 
 
 No other roof a stranger should receive. 
 
 Nor other hands than ours the welcome give. 
 
 But in my absence riot fills the place. 
 
 Nor bears the modest queen a stranger’s face; 
 
 From noiseful revel far remote she flies. 
 
 But rarely seen, or seen with weeping eyes. 
 
 No: let Eurymachus receive my guest. 
 
 Of nature courteous, and by far the best; 
 
 560 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XV. 
 
 265 
 
 He WOOS the queen with more respectful flame, 
 
 And emulates her former husband’s fame: 
 
 With what success, ’tis Jove’s alone to know, 
 
 And the hoped nuptials turn to joy or wo.” 
 
 Thus speaking, on the right up-soar’d in air 
 The hawk, Apollo’s swift-wing’d messenger: 
 
 His deathful pounces tore a trembling dove; 
 
 The clotted feathers, scatter’d from above. 
 
 Between the vessel and the hero pour 
 Thick plumage, mingled with a sanguine shower. 570 
 Th’ observing augur took the prince aside. 
 
 Seized by the hand, and thus, prophetic, cried: 
 
 “Yon bird, that dexter cuts th’ aerial road. 
 
 Rose ominous, nor flies without a god: 
 
 No race but thine shall Ithaca obey. 
 
 To thine, for ages. Heaven decrees the sway.” 
 
 “ Succeed the omen, gods!” the youth rejoin’d; 
 
 “Soon shall my bounties speak a grateful mind. 
 
 And soon each envied happiness attend 
 The man who calls Telemachus his friend.” 580 
 
 Then to Peirseus: “ Thou whom time has proved 
 A faithful servant, by thy prince beloved! 
 
 Till we returning shall our guest demand. 
 
 Accept this charge with honour at our hand.” 
 
 To this Peirseus: “Joyful I obey. 
 
 Well pleased the hospitable rites to pay. 
 
 The presence of thy guest shall best reward. 
 
 If long thy stay, the absence of my lord.” 
 
 With that, their anchors he commands to weigh. 
 
 Mount the tall bark, and launch into the sea. 590 
 
 All, with obedient haste, forsake the shores. 
 
 And, placed in order, spread their equal oars. 
 
 Then from the deck the prince his sandals takes; 
 
 Poised in his hand the pointed javelin shakes. 
 
 They part; while, lessening from the hero’s view. 
 
 Swift to the town the well-row’d galley flew: 
 
 The hero trod the margin of the main. 
 
 And reach’d the mansion of his faithful swain. 
 
 12 
 
n 
 
 BOOK XVI. 
 
 The Discovery of Ulysses to Telemachus. 
 
 Argument. —^Telemachus, arriving' at the lodge of Eumreus, sends him to 
 carry Penelop^ the news of his return. Minerva, appearing to Ulysses, 
 commands him to discover himself to his son. The princes, who had 
 lain in ambush to intercept Telemachus in his way, their project being 
 defeated, return to Ithaca. 
 
 Soon as the morning blush’d along the plains, 
 
 Ulysses and the monarch of the swains, 
 
 Awake the sleeping fires, their meal prepare, ^ 
 
 And forth to pastures send the bristly care. 
 
 The prince’s near approach the dogs descry. 
 
 And fawning round his feet confess their joy. 
 
 Their gentle blandishment the king survey’d. 
 
 Heard his resounding step, and instant said: 
 
 “Some well-known friend, Eumasus, bends his way: 
 
 His steps I hear; the dogs familiar play.” 10 
 
 While yet he spoke, the prince, advancing, drew 
 Nigh to the lodge, and now appear’d in view. 
 Transported, from his seat Eumseus sprung. 
 
 Dropp’d the full bowl, and round his bosom hung; 
 
 Kissing his cheek, his hand, while from his eye 
 The tears rain’d copious in a shower of joy. 
 
 As some fond sire, who ten long winters grieves, 
 
 From foreign climes an only son receives, 
 
 (Child of his age,) with strong paternal joy 
 
 Forward he springs, and clasps the favourite boy: 20 
 
 So round the youth his arms Eumseus spread, 
 
 As if the grave had given him from the dead. 
 
 “And is it thou? my ever-dear delight! 
 
 Oh, art thou come to bless my longing sight! 
 
 Never, I never hoped to view this day. 
 
 When o’er the waves you plough’d the desperate way. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 267 
 
 Enter, my child! Beyond my hopes restored, 
 
 Oh, give these eyes to feast upon their lord. 
 
 Enter, oh, seldom seen! for lawless powers 
 Too much detain thee from these sylvan bowers.” 30 
 The prince replied: “Eumaeus, I obey; 
 
 To seek thee, friend, I hither took my way. 
 
 But say, if in the court the queen reside. 
 
 Severely chaste, or if commenced a bride?” 
 
 Thus he; and thus the monarch of the swains: 
 ‘‘Severely chaste Penelop4 remains; 
 
 But, lost to every joy, she wastes the day 
 In tedious cares, and weeps the night away.” 
 
 He ended, and (receiving as they pass 
 The javelin, pointed with a star of brass,) 40 
 
 They reach’d the dome; the dome with marble shined; 
 His seat Ulysses to the prince resign’d. 
 
 “Not so!” exclaim’d the prince, with decent grace; 
 “For me this house shall find an humbler place; 
 
 T’ usurp the honours due to silver hairs 
 
 And reverend strangers, modest youth forbears.” 
 
 Instant the swain the spoils of beasts supplies. 
 
 And bids the rural throne with osiers rise. 
 
 There sate the prince; the feast Eumaeus spread. 
 
 And heap’d the shining canisters with bread. 50 
 
 Thick o’er the board the plenteous viands lay. 
 
 The frugal remnants of the former day. 
 
 Then in a bowl he tempers generous wines. 
 
 Around whose verge a mimic ivy twines. 
 
 And now, the rage of thirst and hunger fled. 
 
 Thus young Ulysses to Eumseus said: 
 
 “Whence, father, from what shore this stranger, say? 
 What vessel bore him o’er the watery way? 
 
 To human step our land impervious lies. 
 
 And round the coast circumfluent oceans rise.” 60 
 
 The swain returns: “A tale of sorrows hear: 
 
 In spacious Crete he drew his natal air; 
 
 Long doom’d to wander o’er the land and main. 
 
 For Heaven has wove his thread of life with pain. 
 
268 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 Half-breathless, ’scaping to the land he flew 
 From Thesprot mariners, a murderous crew. 
 
 To thee, my son, the suppliant I resign; ' 
 
 I gave him my protection, grant him thine.” ' ^ 
 
 “Hard task,” he cries, “thy virtue gives thy friend. 
 Willing to aid, unable to defend. "70 
 
 Can strangers safely in the court reside. 
 
 Midst the swell’d insolence of lust and pride? 
 
 Ev’n I unsafe: the queen in doubt to wed. 
 
 Or pay due honours to the nuptial-bed: 
 
 Perhaps she weds regardless of her fame. 
 
 Deaf to the mighty Ulyssean name: 
 
 However, stranger! from our grace receive 
 Such honours as befit a prince to give; 
 
 Sandals, a sword, and robes, respect to prove. 
 
 And safe to sail with ornaments of love: 80 
 
 Till then, thy guest amid the rural train. 
 
 Far from the court, from danger far, detain. 
 
 ’Tis mine with food the hungry to supply. 
 
 And clothe the naked from th’ inclement sky. 
 
 Here dwell in safety from the suitors’ wrongs. 
 
 And the rude insults of ungovern’d tongues. 
 
 For should’st thou suffer, powerless to relieve, 
 
 I must behold it, and can only grieve. 
 
 The brave, encompass’d by a hostile train, 
 
 O’erpower’d by numbers, is but brave in vain.” 90 
 
 To whom, while anger in his bosom glows. 
 
 With warmth replies the man of mighty woes: 
 
 “ Since audience mild is deign’d, permit my tongue 
 At once to pity and resent thy wrong. 
 
 My heart weeps blood to see a soul so brave 
 Live to base insolence of power a slave. 
 
 But tell me, dost thou, prince—dost thou behold. 
 
 And hear their midnight revels uncontrol’d? 
 
 Say, do thy subjects in bold faction rise, 
 
 Or priests in fabled oracles advise? 100 
 
 Or are thy brothers, who should aid thy power, 
 
 Turn’d mean deserters in the needful hour? 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 269 
 
 Oh, that I were from great Ulysses sprung, 
 
 Or that these wither’d nerves like thine were strung! 
 Or, heavens! might he return! and soon appear— 
 He shall, I trust; a hero scorns despair— 
 
 Might he return, I yield my life a prey 
 To my worst foe, if that avenging day 
 Be not their last; but should I lose my life. 
 Oppress’d by numbers in the glorious strife, 
 
 I choose the nobler part, and yield my breath. 
 Rather than bear dishonour, worse than death; 
 
 Than see the hand of violence invade 
 The reverend stranger and the spotless maid; 
 
 Than see the wealth of kings consumed in waste. 
 The drunkards revel, and the gluttons feast.” 
 
 Thus he, with anger flashing from his eye: 
 Sincere the youthful hero made reply: 
 
 “Nor leagued in factious arms my subjects rise. 
 Nor priests in fabled oracles advise; 
 
 Nor are my brothers, who should aid my power. 
 Turn’d mean deserters in the needful hour. 
 
 A-h me! I boast no brother; heaven s dread King 
 Gives from our stock an only branch to spring; 
 Alone Laertes reign’d Arcesius’ heir. 
 
 Alone Ulysses drew the vital air; 
 
 And I alone the bed connubial graced. 
 
 An unbless’d offspring of a sire unbless’d! 
 
 Each neighbouring realm, conducive to our wo. 
 Sends forth her peers, and every peer a foe: 
 
 The court proud Samos and Dulichium fills. 
 
 And lofty Zacynth, crown’d with shady hills. 
 
 Ev’n Ithaca and all her lords invade 
 Th’ imperial sceptre, and the regal bed. 
 
 The queen, averse to love, yet awed by power, 
 Seems half to yield, yet flies the bridal-hour: 
 Meantime, their license uncontrol’d I bear; 
 
 Ev’n now they envy me the vital air: 
 
 But Heaven will sure revenge, and gods there are. 
 But go, EumsBUS I to the queen impart 
 Our safe return, and ease a mother’s heart. 
 
 110 
 
 120 
 
 130 
 
 140 
 
270 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 Yet secret go; for numerous are my foes, 
 
 And here at least I may in peace repose.” 
 
 To whom the swain: “I hear, and I obey: 
 
 But old Laertes weeps his life away, 
 
 And deems thee lost. Shall I my speed employ 
 To bless his age, a messenger of joy ? 
 
 The mournful hour that tore his son away, 
 
 Sent the sad sire in solitude to stray: 
 
 Yet, busied with his slaves, to ease his wo, 150 
 
 He dress’d the vine, and bade the garden blow, 
 
 Nor food, nor wine refused: but since the day 
 That you to Pylos plough’d the watery way. 
 
 Nor wine, nor food he tastes: but sunk in woes, 
 
 Wild springs the vine, no more the garden blows: 
 
 Shut from the walks of men, to pleasure lost. 
 
 Pensive and pale he wanders half a ghost.” 
 
 “Wretched old man!” with tears the prince returns: 
 “Yet cease to go. What man so bless’d but mourns? 
 Were every wish indulged by favouring skies, 160 
 
 This hour would give Ulysses to my eyes. 
 
 But to the queen with speed despatchful bear 
 Our safe return, and back with speed repair; 
 
 And let some handmaid of her train resort 
 To good Laertes in his rural court.” 
 
 While yet he spoke, impatient of delay. 
 
 He braced his sandals on, and strode away: 
 
 Then from the heavens the martial goddess flies, 
 
 Through the wide fields of air, and cleaves the skies: 
 
 In form, a virgin in soft beauty’s bloom, 170 
 
 Skill’d in th’ illustrious labours of the loom. 
 
 Alone to Ithaca she stood display’d. 
 
 But unapparent as a viewless shade 
 Escaped Telemachus: (the powers above. 
 
 Seen or unseen, o’er earth at pleasure move;) 
 
 The dogs intelligent confess’d the tread 
 Of power divine, and howling, trembling, fled. 
 
 The goddess, beckoning, waves her deathless hands; 
 Dauntless the king before the goddess stands. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 271 
 
 “Then why,” she said, “oh, favour’d of the skies, 180 
 Why to thy godlike son this long disguise? 
 
 Stand forth reveal’d; with him thy cares employ 
 Against thy foes; be valiant, and destroy! 
 
 Lo! I descend in that avenging hour, 
 
 To combat by thy side, thy guardian power.” 
 
 She said; and o’er him waves her wand of gold; 
 Imperial robes his manly limbs infold; 
 
 At once with grace divine his form improves, 
 
 At once with majesty enlarged he moves; 
 
 Youth flush’d his reddening cheek, and from his brows 190 
 A length of hair in sable ringlets flows; 
 
 His blackening chin receives a deeper shade; 
 
 Then from his eyes upsprung the warrior-maid. 
 
 The hero reascends: the prince, o’erawed. 
 
 Scarce lifts his eyes, and bows as to a god. 
 
 Then with surprise—surprise chastised with fears— 
 “How art thou changed!” he cried; “a god appears! 
 Far other vests thy limbs majestic grace. 
 
 Far other glories lighten from thy face! 
 
 If heaven be thy abode, with pious care, 200 
 
 Lo! I the ready sacrifice prepare: 
 
 Lo! gifts of labour’d gold adorn thy shrine. 
 
 To win thy grace. Oh, save us, power divine!” 
 
 “Few are my days,” Ulysses made reply, 
 
 “Nor I, alas! descendant of the sky. 
 
 I am thy father. Oh, my son! my son! 
 
 That father, for whose sake thy days have run 
 One scene of wo: to endless cares consign d. 
 
 And outraged by the wrongs of base mankind.” 
 
 Then rushing to his arms, he kiss’d his boy 21( 
 
 With the strong raptures of a parent’s joy. 
 
 Tears bathe his cheek, and tears the ground bedew: 
 
 He strain’d him close, as to his breast he grew. 
 
 “Ah me!” exclaims the prince, with fond desire, 
 “Thou art not—no—^thou canst not be my sire. 
 
 Heaven such illusion only can impose. 
 
 By the false joy to aggravate my woes. 
 
272 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI, 
 
 Who but a god can change the general doom, 
 
 And give to wither’d age a youthful bloom? 
 
 Late, worn with years, in weeds obscene you trod; 220 
 Now, clothed in majesty, you move a god!” i 
 
 “Forbear,” he cried; “for Heaven reserve that name,' 
 Give to thy father but a father’s claim: 
 
 Other Ulysses shalt thou never see; 
 
 I am Ulysses—I, my son, am he. 
 
 Twice ten sad years o’er earth and ocean toss’d, 
 
 ’Tis given at length to view my native coast. 
 
 Pallas, unconquer’d maid, my frame surrounds 
 With grace divine; her power admits no bounds; 
 
 She o’er my limbs old age and wrinkles shed; 230 
 
 Now strong as youth, magnificent I tread. 
 
 The gods with ease frail man depress or raise, 
 
 Exalt the lowly, or the proud debase.” 
 
 He spoke and sate. The prince with transport flew, 
 Hung round his neck, while tears his cheek bedew; 
 
 Nor less the father pour’d a social flood: 
 
 They wept abundant, and they wept aloud. 
 
 As the bold eagle with fierce sorrows stung. 
 
 Or parent vulture, mourns her ravish’d young; 
 
 They cry, they scream, their unfledged brood a prey 240 
 To some rude churl, and borne by stealth away: 
 
 So they aloud; and tears in tides had run. 
 
 Their grief unfinish’d with the setting sun; 
 
 But checking the full torrent in its flow, 
 
 The prince thus interrupts the solemn wo. 
 
 “What ship transported thee, O father, say. 
 
 And what bless’d hands have oar’d thee on thy way?” 
 
 “All, all,” Ulysses instant made reply, 
 
 “I tell thee all, my child, my only joy I 
 
 Phaeacians bore me to the port assign’d, 250 
 
 A nation ever to the stranger kind; 
 
 Wrapp’d in th’ embrace of sleep, the faithful train 
 O’er seas convey’d me to my native reign: 
 
 Embroider’d vestures, gold, and brass, are laid 
 Conceal’d in caverns in the sylvan shade. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 273 
 
 Hither, intent the rival rout to slay, 
 
 And plan the scene of death, I bend my way: 
 
 So Pallas wills. But thou, my son, explain 
 The names and numbers of th’ audacious train; 
 
 ’Tis mine to judge if better to employ 260 
 
 Assistant force, or singly to destroy.” 
 
 “O’er earth,” returns the prince, “resounds thy name, 
 Thy well-tried wisdom, and thy martial fame. 
 
 Yet at thy words I start, in wonder lost: 
 
 Can we engage, not decades, but a host? 
 
 Can we alone in furious battle stand, 
 
 Against that numerous and determined band? 
 
 Hear then their numbers: from Dulichium came 
 Twice twenty-six, all peers of mighty name; 
 
 Six are their menial train: twice twelve the boast 270 
 Of Samos; twenty from Zacynthus’ coast; 
 
 And twelve our country’s pride; to these belong 
 Medon and Phemius, skill’d in heavenly song. 
 
 Two sewers from day to day the revels wait, 
 
 Exact of taste, and serve the feast in state. 
 
 With such a foe th’ unequal fight to try. 
 
 Were by false courage unrevenged to die. 
 
 Then what assistant powers you boast, relate. 
 
 Ere yet we mingle in the stern debate.” 
 
 “Mark well my voice,” Ulysses straight replies; 280 
 “What need of aids, if favour’d by the skies? 
 
 If shielded to the dreadful fight we move. 
 
 By mighty Pallas, and by thundering Jove?” 
 
 “Sufficient they,” Telemachus rejoin’d, 
 
 “Against the banded powers of all mankind: 
 
 They, high enthroned above the rolling clouds, 
 
 Wither the strength of man, and awe the gods.” 
 
 “Such aids expect,” he cries, “when strong in might 
 We rise terrific to the task of fight. 
 
 But thou, when morn salutes th’ aerial plain, 290 
 
 The court revisit, and the lawless train: 
 
 Me thither in disguise Eumseus leads. 
 
 An aged mendicant in tatter’d weeds. 
 
 12* S 
 
274 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 There, if base scorn insult my reverend age, 
 
 Bear it, my son! repress thy rising rage. . 
 
 If outraged, cease that outrage to repel: - 
 
 Bear it, my son I howe’er thy heart rebel. ’ ^ 
 
 Yet strive by prayer and counsel to restrain 
 Their lawless insults, though thou strive in vain; 
 
 For wicked ears are deaf to wisdom’s call, 300 
 
 And vengeance strikes whom Heaven has doom’d to fall.; 
 Once more attend: when she* whose power inspires 
 The thinking mind, my soul to vengeance fires; 
 
 I give the sign; that instant, from beneath. 
 
 Aloft convey the instruments of death. 
 
 Armour and arms; and if mistrust arise. 
 
 Thus veil the truth in plausible disguise: 
 
 “‘These glittering weapons, ere he sail’d to Troy, 
 Ulysses view’d with stern heroic joy; 
 
 Then, beaming o’er th’ illumined wall they shone; 310 
 Now dust dishonours, all their lustre gone. 
 
 I bear them hence, so Jove my soul inspires. 
 
 From the pollution of the fuming fires; 
 
 Lest, when the bowl inflames, in vengeful mood 
 Ye rush to arms, and stain the feast with blood: 
 
 Oft ready swords in luckless hour incite 
 The hand of wrath, and arm it for the fight.’ 
 
 “Such be the plea, and by the plea deceive; 
 
 For Jove infatuates all, and all believe. 
 
 Yet leave for each of us a sword to wield, 320 
 
 A pointed javelin, and a fenceful shield. 
 
 But by my blood that in thy bosom glows, 
 
 By that regard a son his father owes; ^ 
 
 The secret that thy father lives, retain. 
 
 Lock’d in thy bosom from the household train: 
 
 Hide it from all; ev’n from Eumseus hide. 
 
 From my dear father, and my dearer bride. 
 
 One care remains, to note the loyal few 
 Whose faith yet lasts among the menial crew; 
 
 A 
 
 * Miiierva. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 2-/5 
 
 And, noting, ere we rise in vengeance, prove 330 
 
 Who loves his prince; for sure you merit love.” 
 
 To whom the youth: “To emulate I aim 
 The brave and wise, and my great father’s fame. 
 
 But reconsider, since the wisest err. 
 
 Vengeance resolved, ’tis dangerous to defer. 
 
 What length of time must we consume in vain, 
 
 Too curious to explore the menial train? 
 
 While the proud foes, industrious to destroy 
 Thy wealth in riot, the delay enjoy. 
 
 Suffice it in this exigence alone 340 
 
 To mark the damsels that attend the throne: 
 
 Dispersed the youth reside; their faith to prove 
 Jove grants henceforth, if thou hast spoke from Jove.” 
 
 While in debate they waste their hours away, 
 
 Th’ associates of the prince repass’d the bay; 
 
 With speed they guide the vessel to the shores; 
 
 With speed debarking, land the naval stores: 
 
 Then, faithful to their charge, to Clytius bear. 
 
 And trust the presents to his friendly care. 
 
 Swift to the queen a herald flies t’ impart 
 Her son’s return, and ease a parent’s heart; 
 
 Lest, a sad prey to ever-musing cares. 
 
 Pale grief destroy what time awhile forbears. 
 
 Th’ incautious herald with impatience burns. 
 
 And cries aloud: “Thy son, oh queen, returns!” 
 
 Eumseus sage, approach’d th’ imperial throne. 
 
 And breath’d his mandate to her ear alone. 
 
 Then measured back the way.—The suitor band. 
 
 Stung to the soul, abash’d, confounded, stand: 
 
 And issuing from the dome, before the gate. 
 
 With clouded looks, a pale assembly sate. 
 
 At length Eurymachus: “Our hopes are vain; 
 Telemachus in triumph sails the main. 
 
 Haste, rear the mast, the swelling shroud display .^ 
 
 Haste, to our ambush’d friends the news convey 1 
 Scarce had he spoke, when, turning to the stiand, 
 Amphinomus survey’d th’ associate band; 
 
 350 
 
 360 
 
276 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 Full to the bav within the winding shores 
 With gather'd sails they stood, and lifted oars: 
 
 “Oh, friends T he crie<h elate with rising joy, 370 
 “See to the port secure the vessel fly! 
 
 Some god has told them, or themselves survey 
 The bark escaped; and measure back their way.” 
 
 Swift at the word descending to the shores. 
 
 They moor the vessel, and unlade the stores: 
 
 Then moving firom the strand, apart they sate, 
 
 And full and fi*equent, form’d a dire debate. 
 
 “Lives then the bov?”—“He lives.f” Antinous cries, 
 “The care of gods, and favourite of the skies. 
 
 All night we watch’d, till with her orient wheels . 380 
 
 Aurora flamed above the eastern lulls. 
 
 And from the loftv brow of rocks bv dav 
 Took in the ocean with a broad survev: 
 
 et safe he sails! the powers celestial give 
 To shun the hidden snares of death, and live. 
 
 But die he shall; and thus condemn’d to bleed. 
 
 Be now the scene of instant death decreed. 
 
 Hope ye success? undaunted crush the foe. 
 
 Is he not wise? know this, and strike the blow. 
 
 Wait ye, till he to arms in council draws 390 
 
 The Greeks, averse too justly to our cause ? 
 
 Strike ere, the states convened, the foe betray 
 Our murderous ambush on the waterv wav. 
 
 ^ m 
 
 Or choose ve va^rrant from their rase to flv. 
 
 Outcasts of earth, to breathe an unknown sky? 
 
 The brave prevent misfortune; then be brave. 
 
 And burv future danger in his grave. 
 
 Returns he? ambush’d well his walk invade. 
 
 Or where he hides in solitude and shade; 
 
 And give the palace to the queen a dower, 400 
 
 Or lum she blesses in the bridal-hour. 
 
 But if submissive you resign the sway. 
 
 Slaves to a boy, go, flatter and obey. 
 
 Retire we instant to our native reign. 
 
 Nor be the wealth of kings consumed in vain I 
 
THE ODY55EY, BOOK ITI. 
 
 
 Then wed wb'Dca ciK?K« the queen he sfiresi 
 
 To some bdess'd tsffmr-e. the oriri»re decreed hv HeaT-esi.* 
 
 ^ « f0 
 
 Alffl^'d tbe sEtf^r-trihi his voice attends; 
 
 Til] from his thnccre AmpciiiiC'CiGs ascends. 
 
 Who o’er Dcikssrsm stretch'd spacf^xs reieri, 41# 
 
 A land of pieniy. bie^'d with every gram.; 
 
 Chief of the msmieis dw aueen address' cL 
 
 And, tbongh disi:-»ie. 2 isng, yet dispteasmg least : 
 
 Scfr were his words: h^ actjons wistijai swav'd: 
 Gra-CJefri] awh3e 3ae ratsed. then mildlv said: 
 
 iL W 
 
 friends, iorheari and be the thoaght wrtihstc»c»d! 
 Tis bornbie to sbed imperial 
 Coci5u]t we frrst. lii’ aZ-seeing power? above. 
 
 And the sure cranes oi righteijos Jove. 
 
 L’ thev asen**, eVzj cv this hand he dies ; 43^ 
 
 • • • ' 
 
 If thev ibrbad, I war lot't with the skies.*' 
 
 * 
 
 He said: the liral train his voice approved. 
 
 And risng instant to the palace moved. 
 
 AmTed. with wiid tmmltcofts noise thev sate. 
 
 «a> 
 
 Recumbent cci the shining' thrones of state. 
 
 Then onascSa^rs of their dire debates. 
 
 The mnrdeixyns cocnsei to the queen relates. 
 
 Tcjoch'd at the dieadfhi sti^ry, she tiescends: 
 
 Her hasnr stens a damsel-train arten*is. 
 
 * ^ 
 
 Full where the docae its shfrrng valves eipandsv 4^ 
 Sodden before the rival D*?wer? she stands; 
 
 And. veiling decent with a modest shade 
 Her cheek, mdigtnam to Anrznocs said: 
 
 ■“Ob, void o£ frith! of aE bad men the worst! 
 
 Renown'd for wisdocn. by th' abase a«rcnr?eti! 
 
 Mistakinz Fame r^r^riaims thv zenecxis mmd! 
 
 Thv deeds dencte thee of the basest kind. 
 
 * 
 
 Wietda! to desirDv a n^ce that iHendsfaic zives. 
 
 While in his gnest his inarierer he receives; 
 
 Nor dread ssipeiifCi Jove, to whom beiong 
 The cncse of scgnp^tants. and revenge of wrcng. 
 
 Hast thc*a ic»rg?t. ntgratefisi as tiioa art. 
 
 Who saved iby frifeer with a friendly part ? 
 
 440 
 
278 the odyssey, BOOK XVI. 
 
 Lawless he ravaged with his martial powers 
 The Taphian pirates on Thesprotia’s shores; 
 
 Enraged, his life, his treasures they demand; 
 
 Ulysses saved him from th’ avenger’s hand. 
 
 And would’st thou evil for his good repay ? 
 
 His bed dishonour, and his house betray? 
 
 Afflict his queen, and with a murderous hand 450 
 
 Destroy his heir?—But cease! ’tis I command.” 
 
 “Far hence those fears,” Eurymachus replied; 
 
 Oh, prudent princess 1 bid thy soul confide. 
 
 Breathes there a man who dares that hero slay, 
 
 While I behold the golden light of day? 
 
 No: by the righteous powers of Heaven I swear. 
 
 His blood in vengeance smokes upon my spear. 
 
 Ulysses, when my infant days I led. 
 
 With wane sufficed me, and with dainties fed: 
 
 My generous soul abhors th’ ungrateful part, 460 
 
 And my friend’s son lives dearest to my heart: 
 
 Then fear no mortal arm; if Heaven destroy, 
 
 , We must resign: for man is born to die.” 
 
 Thus smooth he ended, yet his death conspired. 
 
 Then sorrowing, with sad step the queen retired; 
 
 With streaming eyes, all comfortless deplored. 
 
 Touch’d with the dear remembrance of her lord; 
 
 Nor ceased till Pallas bid her sorrows ffy. 
 
 And in soft slumbers seal’d her ffowing eye. 
 
 And now Eumseus, at the evening hour, 470 
 
 Came late returning to his sylvan bower. 
 
 Ulysses and his son had dress’d with art 
 A yearling boar, and gave the gods their part: 
 
 Holy repast! That instant from the skies 
 The martial goddess to Ulysses flies: 
 
 She waves her golden wand, and reassumes 
 From every feature, every grace that blooms: 
 
 At once his vestures change; at once she sheds 
 Age o’er his limbs, that tremble as he treads; 
 
 Lest to the queen the swain with transport ffy, 480 
 
 Unable to contain th’ unruly joy. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVI. 
 
 279 
 
 When near he drew, the prince breaks forth: “Proclaim 
 What tidings, friend? what speaks the voice of fame? 
 Say, if the suitors measure back the main. 
 
 Or still in ambush thirst for blood in vain?” 
 
 “Whether,” he cries “they measure back the flood, 
 
 Or still in ambush thirst in vain for blood. 
 
 Escaped my care: where lawless suitors sway. 
 
 Thy mandate borne, my soul disdain’d to stay: 
 
 But from the Hermsean height l east a view, 490 
 
 Where to the port a bark high-bounding flew; 
 
 Her freight a shining band: with martial air 
 Each poised his shield, and each advanced his spear; 
 
 And, if aright these searching eyes survey, 
 
 Th’ eluded suitors stem the watery way.” 
 
 The prince, well pfeased to disappoint their wiles, 
 Steals on his sire a glance, and secret smiles. 
 
 And now, a short repast prepared, they fed 
 Till the keen rage of craving hunger fled: 
 
 Then to repose withdrawn, apart they lay-, 500 
 
 And in soft sleep forgot the cares of day. 
 
1 
 
 \ 
 
 BOOK XVII. 
 
 A 
 
 Travels of Telemachus; Behaviour of the Suitors towards Ulysses. 
 
 Argument. —Telemachus, returning- to the city, relates to Penelopd the sum 
 of his travels. Ulysses is conducted by Eumseus to the palace, where his 
 old dog- Arg-us acknowledges his master, after an absence of twenty years, 
 and dies with joy. Eumseus returns into the country, and Ulysses remains 
 among the suitors, whose behaviour is described. 
 
 Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, 
 
 Sprinkled with roseate light the dewy lawn; 
 
 In haste the prince arose, prepared to part; 
 
 His hand impatient grasps the pointed dart; 
 
 Fair on his feet the polish’d sandals shine, 
 
 " And thus he greets the master of the swine: 
 
 "‘My friend, adieu; let this short stay suffice; 
 
 I haste to meet my mother’s longing eyes. 
 
 And end her tears, her sorrows, and her sighs. 
 
 But thou, attentive, what we order heed: 10 
 
 This hapless stranger to the city lead; 
 
 By public bounty let him there be fed. 
 
 And bless the hand that stretches forth the bread. 
 
 To wipe the tears from all afflicted eyes. 
 
 My will may covet, but my power denies. 
 
 If this raise anger in the stranger’s thought. 
 
 The pain of anger punishes the fault: 
 
 The very truth I undisguised declare; 
 
 For what so easy as to be sincere?” ^ 
 
 To this Ulysses: “What the prince requires 20 
 
 Of swift removal, seconds my desires. ^ 
 
 To want like mine the peopled town can yield 
 More hopes of comfort than the lonely field; 
 
 Nor fits my age to till the labour’d lands. 
 
 Or stoop to tasks a rural lord demands. ^ 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 281 
 
 Adieu! but since this ragged garb can bear 
 So ill th’ inclemencies of morning air, 
 
 A few hours’ space permit me here to stay; 
 
 My steps Eumseus shall to town convey, 
 
 With riper beams when Phoebus warms the day.” 30 
 Thus he; nor aught Telemachus replied. 
 
 But left the mansion with a lofty stride: 
 
 Schemes of revenge his pondering breast elate. 
 
 Revolving deep the suitors’ sudden fate. 
 
 Arriving now before th’ imperial hall. 
 
 He props his spear against the pillar’d wall; 
 
 Then like a lion o’er the threshold bounds; 
 
 The marble pavement with his step resounds; 
 
 His eye first glanced where Euryclea spreads 
 
 With furry spoils of beasts the splendid beds: 40 
 
 She saw, she wept, she ran with eager pace. 
 
 And reach’d her master with a long embrace. 
 
 All crowded round, the family appears 
 With wild entrancement and ecstatic tears; 
 
 Swift from above descends the royal fair, 
 
 (Her beauteous cheeks the blush of Venus wear. 
 Chasten’d with coy Diana’s pensive air;) 
 
 Plangs o’er her son, in his embraces dies; 
 
 Rains kisses on his neck, his face, his eyes: 
 
 Few words she spoke, though much she had to say; 50 
 And scarce those few, for tears, could force their way: 
 
 “ Light of my eyes! he comes! unhoped-for joy! 
 
 Has Heaven from Pylos brought my lovely boy?/ 
 
 So snatch’d from all our cares!—Tell, hast thou known 
 Thy father’s fate? and tell me all thy own.” 
 
 “ Oh, dearest! most revered of woman-kind ! 
 
 Cease with those tears to melt a manly mind,” 
 
 Replied the prince: “nor be our fates deplored. 
 
 From death and treason to thy arms restored. 
 
 Go bathe, and, robed in white, ascend the towers, GO 
 With ail thy handmaids thank th’ immortal powers; 
 
 To every god vow hecatombs to bleed. 
 
 And call Jove’s vengeance on their guilty deed: 
 
282 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 While to th’ assembled council I repair; 
 
 A stranger sent by Heaven attends me there; 
 
 My new-accepted guest I haste to find, 
 
 Now to Peiraeus’ honour’d charge consign’d.” 
 
 The matron heard, nor was his word in vain. 
 
 She bathed; and, robed in white, with all her train. 
 
 To every god vow’d hecatombs to bleed, "7 
 
 And call’d Jove’s vengeance on the guilty deed. 
 
 Arm’d with his lance, the prince then pass’d the gate: 
 Two dogs behind, a faithful guard, await; ' 
 
 Pallas his form with grace divine improves: 
 
 The gazing crowd admires him as he moves: 
 
 Him, gathering round, the haughty suitors greet 
 With semblance fair, but inward deep deceit. 
 
 Their false addresses generous he denied. 
 
 Pass’d on, and sate by faithful Mentor’s side; 
 
 With Antiphus, and Halithersus sage, ^ 
 
 His father’s counsellors, revered for age. 
 
 Of his own fortunes, and Ulysses’ fame. 
 
 Much ask’d the seniors; till PeirsBUs came. 
 
 The stranger-guest pursued him close behind; 
 
 Whom, when Telemachus beheld, he join’d. 
 
 He (when Peirseus asked for slaves to bring 
 The gifts and treasures of the Spartan king) 
 
 Thus thoughtful answer’d: ‘‘Those we shall not move. 
 Dark and unconscious of the will of Jove: 
 
 We know not yet the full event of all: 
 
 Stabb’d in his palace if your prince must fall, 
 
 Us, and our house, if treason must o’erthrow, 
 
 Better a friend possess them than a foe; 
 
 If death to these, and vengeance Heaven decree. 
 Riches are welcome then, not else to me. 
 
 Till then retain the gifts.”—The hero said. 
 
 And in his hand the willing stranger led. 
 
 Then, disarray’d, the shining bath they sought, 
 
 (With unguents smooth,) of polish’d marble wrought; 
 Obedient handmaids with assistant toil 
 Supply the limpid wave, and fragrant oil: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 283 
 
 Then o'er their limbs refulgent robes they threw, 
 
 And fresh from bathing to their seats withdrew; 
 
 The golden ewer a nymph attendant brings, 
 
 Replenish’d from the pure, translucent springs; 
 
 With copious streams that golden ewer supplies 
 A silver laver of capacious size. 
 
 They wash: the table, in fair order spread. 
 
 Is piled with viands and the strength of bread. 
 
 Full opposite, before the folding-gate, 110 
 
 The pensive mother sits in humble state; 
 
 Lowly she sate, and with dejected view 
 The fleecy threads her ivory fingers drew. . 
 
 The prince and stranger shared the genial feast, 
 
 Till now the rage of thirst and hunger ceased. 
 
 When thus the queen: “My son! my only friend! 
 
 Say, to my mournful couch shall I ascend? 
 
 (The couch deserted now a length of years; 
 
 The couch for ever water’d with my tears;) 
 
 Say, wilt thou not—ere yet the suitor-crew 120 
 
 Return, and riot shakes our walls anew— 
 
 Say, wilt thou not the least account afford? 
 
 The least glad tidings of my absent lord?” 
 
 To her the youth: “We reach’d the Pylian plains. 
 Where Nestor, shepherd of his people, reigns. 
 
 All arts of tenderness to him are known. 
 
 Kind to Ulysses’ race as to his own; 
 
 No father with a fonder grasp of joy 
 Strains to his bosom his long-absent boy. 
 
 But all unknown, if yet Ulysses breathe, 130 
 
 Or glide a spectre in the realms beneath; 
 
 For farther search, his rapid steeds transport 
 My lengthen’d journey to the Spartan court. 
 
 There Argive Helen I beheld, ’whose charms 
 (So Heaven decreed) engaged the great in arms. 
 
 My cause of coming told, he thus rejoin’d; 
 
 And still his words live perfect in my mind: 
 
 “‘Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train 
 An absent hero’s nuptial joys profane! 
 
284 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 So with her young, amid the woodland shades, 140 : 
 
 A timorous hind the lion’s court invades, 
 
 Leaves in that fatal lair her tender fawns; 
 
 And climbs the cliff, or feeds among the lawns; 
 
 Meantime, returning, with remorseless sway : 
 
 The monarch savage rends the panting prey: 
 
 With equal fury, and with equal fame, ’ : 
 
 Shall great Ulysses reassert his claim. 
 
 Oh, Jove supreme! whom men and go'ds revere! 
 
 And thou whose lustre gilds the rolling sphere, 
 
 With power congenial join’d, propitious aid 150 
 
 The chief adop)ted by the martial maid! 
 
 Such to our wish the warrior soon restore. 
 
 As when, contending on the Lesbian shore. 
 
 His prowess Philomelides confess’d, 
 
 And loud-acclaiming Greeks the victor bless’d: 
 
 Then soon th’ invaders of his bed and throne. 
 
 Their love presumptuous shall by death atone. 
 
 Now what you question of my ancient friend. 
 
 With truth I answer: thou the truth attend. 
 
 Learn what I heard the sea-born seer* relate, 160 
 
 Whose eyes can pierce the dark recess of fate. 
 
 Sole in an isle, imprison’d by the main, 
 
 The sad survivor of his numerous train, 
 
 Ulysses lies: detain’d by magic charms. 
 
 And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms. 
 
 No sailors there, no vessels to convey. 
 
 Nor oars to cut th’ immeasurable way.’— 
 
 This told Atrides, and he told no more; 
 
 Thence safe I voyaged to my native shore.” 
 
 He ceased; nor made the pensive queen reply, 170 
 But droop’d her head, and drew a secret sigh. 
 
 When Theoclymenus the seer began: 
 
 “ Oh, suffering consort of the suffering man! 
 
 What human knowledge could, those kings might tell; 
 But I the secrets of high Heaven reveal. 
 
 ^ Proteus. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVil. 
 
 285 
 
 Before the first of gods be this declared, 
 
 Before the board whose blessing we have shared; 
 
 Witness the genial rites, and witness all 
 This house holds sacred in her ample wall! 
 
 Ev’n now, this instant, great Ulysses, laid 180 
 
 At rest, or wandering in his country’s shade. 
 
 Their guilty deeds, in hearing and in view, 
 
 Secret revolves! and plans the vengeance due. 
 
 Of this, sure auguries the gods bestow’d. 
 
 When first our vessel anchor’d in your road.” 
 
 “Succeed those omens. Heaven!” the queen rejoin’d; 
 “So shall our bounties speak a grateful mind; 
 
 And every envied happiness attend 
 The man who calls Penelop6 his friend.” 
 
 Thus communed they; while in the marble court 190 
 (Scene of their insolence) the lords resort; 
 
 Athwart the spacious square each tries his art 
 To whirl the disc, or aim the missile dart. 
 
 Now did the hour of sweet repast arrive. 
 
 And from the field the victim flocks they drive: 
 
 Medon the herald, (one who pleased them best. 
 
 And honour’d with a portion of their feast,) 
 
 To bid the banquet, interrupts their play: 
 
 Swift to the hall they haste; aside they lay 
 
 Their garments, and succinct the victims slay. 200 
 
 Then sheep, and goats, and bristly porkers bled. 
 
 And the proud steer was o’er the marble spread. 
 
 While thus the copious banquet they provide; 
 
 Along the road, conversing side by side, 
 
 Proceed Ulysses and the faithful swain; 
 
 When thus Eumseus, generous and humane: 
 
 “ To town, observant of our lord’s behest. 
 
 Now let us speed; my friend, no more my guest! 
 
 Yet like myself I wish thee here preferr’d. 
 
 Guard of the flock, or keeper of the herd. 210 
 
 But much to raise my master’s wrath I fear; 
 
 The wrath of princes ever is severe. 
 
286 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 Then heed his will, and be our journey made 
 While the broad beams of Phcebus are display’d, 
 
 Or ere brown evening spreads her chilly shade.” 
 
 “Just thy advice,” the prudent chief rejoin’d, 
 
 “And such as suits the dictate of my mind. 
 
 Lead on, but help me to some staff, to stay 
 My feeble step, since rugged is the way.” 
 
 Across his shoulders then the scrip he flung, 220 
 
 Wide-patched, and fasten’d by a twisted thong. 
 
 A staff Eumseus gave. Along the way 
 Cheerly they fare: behind the keepers stay; 
 
 These with their watchful dogs (a constant guard) 
 
 Supply his absence, and attend the herd. 
 
 And now his city strikes the monarch’s eyes, 
 
 Alas! how changed! a man of miseries; 
 
 Propp’d on a staff, a beggar, old and bare. 
 
 In rags dishonest, fluttering with the air! 
 
 Now pass’d the rugged road, they journey down, 230 
 The cavern’d way descending to the town. 
 
 Where from the rock, with liquid lapse distils 
 A limpid fount, that, spread in parting rills, ; 
 
 Its current thence to serve the city brings; 
 
 A useful work, adorn’d by ancient kings. 
 
 Neritos, Ithacus, Polyctor there. 
 
 In sculptured stone, immortalized their care; 
 
 In marble urns received it from above. 
 
 And shaded with a green surrounding grove; 
 
 Where silver alders, in high arches twined, 240 
 
 Drink the cold stream, and tremble to the wind. 
 
 Beneath, sequester’d to the nymphs, is seen 
 A mossy altar, deep embower’d in green; 
 
 Where constant vows by travellers are paid. 
 
 And holy horrors solemnize the shade. 
 
 Here with his goats (not vow’d to sacred flame, 
 
 But pamper’d luxury,) Melanthius came: 
 
 Two grooms attend him. With an envious look 
 He eyed the stranger, and imperious spoke: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 287 
 
 “The good old proverb how this pair fulfil! 250 
 
 One rogue is usher to another still. 
 
 Heaven with a secret principle endued 
 Mankind to seek their own similitude. 
 
 Where goes the swineherd with that ill-look’d guest? 
 That giant-glutton, dreadful at a feast! 
 
 Full many a post have those broad shoulders worn, 
 
 From every great man’s gate repulsed with scorn: 
 
 To no brave prize aspired the worthless swain, 
 
 ’Twas but for scraps he ask’d, and ask’d in vain.- 
 To beg than work he better understands, 2G0 
 
 Or we, perhaps, might take him off thy hands. 
 
 For any office could the slave be good. 
 
 To cleanse the fold, or help the kids to food; 
 
 If any labour those big joints could learn. 
 
 Some whey, to wash his bowels, he might earn. 
 
 To cringe, to whine, his idle hands to spread. 
 
 Is all, by which that graceless maw is fed. 
 
 Yet hear me! if thy impudence but dare 
 Approach yon walls, I prophesy thy fare: 
 
 Dearly, full dearly, shalt thou buy thy bread, 270 
 
 With many a footstool thundering at thy head.” 
 
 He thus: nor insolent of word alone. 
 
 Spurn’d with his rustic heel his king unknown; 
 
 Spurn’d, but not moved; he like a pillar stood. 
 
 Nor stirr’d an inch, contemptuous, from the road: 
 Doubtful, or with his staff to strike him dead. 
 
 Or greet the pavement with his worthless head. 
 
 Short was that doubt: to quell his rage inured. 
 
 The hero stood self-conquer’d, and endured. 
 
 But hateful of the wretch, Eumasus heaved 280 
 
 His hands obtesting, and this prayer conceived: • 
 “Daughters of Jove! who from th’ ethereal bowers 
 Descend to swell the springs, and feed the flowers! 
 Nymphs of this fountain! to whose sacred names 
 Our rural victims mount in blazing flames; 
 
 To whom Ulysses’ piety preferr’d 
 
 The yearly firstlings of his flock and herd: 
 
288 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 Succeed my wish, your votary restore; 
 
 Oh, be some god his convoy to our shore! 
 
 Due pains shall punish then this slave’s offence, 290 
 
 And humble all his airs of insolence, ^ 
 
 Who, proudly stalking, leaves the herds at large, h 
 
 Commences courtier, and neglects his charge.” 
 
 “What mutters he?” Melanthius sharp rejoins; 
 
 “This crafty miscreant, big with dark designs? 
 
 The day shall come—nay, ’tis already near— 
 
 When, slave! to sell thee at a price too dear. 
 
 Must be my care; and hence transport thee o’er, 
 
 A load and scandal to this happy shore. 
 
 Oh! that as surely great Apollo’s dart, 300 
 
 Or some brave suitor’s sword, might pierce the heart 
 Of the proud son, as that we stand this hour 
 In lasting safety from the father’s power!” 
 
 So spoke the wretch; but, shunning farther fray. 
 
 Turn’d his proud step, and left them on their way. 
 Straight to the feastful palace he repair’d. 
 
 Familiar enter’d, and the banquet shared; 
 
 Beneath Eurymachus, his patron lord. 
 
 He took his place, and plenty heap’d the board. 
 
 Meantime, they heard, soft-circling in the sky, 310 
 Sweet airs ascend, and heavenly minstrelsy; 
 
 (For Phemius to the lyre attuned the strain:) 
 
 Ulysses hearken’d, then address’d the swain: 
 
 “Well may this palace admiration claim, 
 
 Great, and respondent to the master’s fame I 
 Stage above stage th’ imperial structure stands. 
 
 Holds the chief honours, and the town commands: 
 
 High walls and battlements the courts enclose. 
 
 And the strong gates defy a host of foes. 
 
 Far other cares its dwellers now employ; 320 
 
 The throng’d assembly and the feast of joy: 
 
 I see the smokes of sacrifice aspire, 
 
 And hear (what graces every feast) the lyre,” 
 
 Then thus Eumaeus; “Judge we which were best; 
 Amidst yon revellers a sudden guest 
 
289 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 Choose you to mingle, while behind I stay? 
 
 Or I first entering introduce the way? 
 
 Wait for a space without, but wait not long; 
 
 This is the house of violence and wrong: 
 
 Some rude insult thy reverend age may bear; 330 
 
 For like their lawless lords the servants are.” 
 
 “Just is, oh friend! thy caution, and address’d” 
 (Replied the chief) “to no unheedful breast; 
 
 The wrongs and injuries of base mankind 
 Fresh to my sense, and always in my mind. 
 
 The bravely-patient to no fortune yields: . 
 
 On rolling oceans, and in fighting fields. 
 
 Storms have I pass’d, and many a stern debate; 
 
 And now in humbler scene submit to fate. 
 
 What cannot Want? The bless’d she will expose, 340 
 And I am learn’d in all her train of woes; 
 
 I She fills with navies, hosts, and loud alarms. 
 
 The sea, the land, and shakes the world with arms!” 
 
 Thus near the gates conferring as they drew, 
 
 Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew; 
 
 He, not unconscious of the voice and tread. 
 
 Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head; 
 
 I Bred by Ulysses, nourish’d at his board, 
 
 IBut, ah! not fated long to please his lord! 
 
 ' To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain; 350 
 ' The voice of glory call’d him o’er the main. 
 
 ' Till then, in every sylvan chase renown’d, 
 
 'With Argus! Argus! rung the woods around; 
 
 ' With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn, 
 
 (Or traced the mazy leveret o’er the lawn. 
 
 I Now, left to man’s ingratitude, he lay 
 I Unhoused, neglected, in the public way; 
 yAnd where on heaps the rich manure was spread, 
 (Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed. 
 
 He knew his lord: he knew, and strove to meet; 350 
 lln vain he strove to crawl, and kiss his feet; 
 
 ]Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes, 
 
 ^Salute his master, and confess his joys. 
 
 13 T 
 
290 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 Soft pity touch’d the mighty master’s soul; 
 
 Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole— 
 
 Stole unperceived; he turn’d his head, and dried 
 The drop humane: then thus impassion’d cried: 
 
 “What noble beast in this abandon’d state 
 Lies here all helpless at Ulysses’ gate? 
 
 His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise; 370 
 
 If as he seems he was in better days, 
 
 Some care his age deserves; or was he prized 
 For worthless beauty? therefore now despised! 
 
 Such dogs and men there are, mere things of state. 
 
 And always cherish’d by their friends, the great.” 
 
 “Not Argus so,” Eumseus thus rejoin’d; 
 
 “But served a master of a nobler kind, 
 
 Who never, never, shall behold him more 1 
 
 Long, long since perish’d on a distant shore 1 
 
 Oh, had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young, 380 
 
 Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong; 
 
 Him no fell savage on the plain withstood. 
 
 None ’scaped him bosom’d in the gloomy wood; 
 
 His eye, how piercing! and his scent, how true! 
 
 To wind the vapour in the tainted dew 1 
 Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast: 
 
 Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost I 
 The women keep the generous creature bare, 
 
 A sleek and idle race is all their care: 
 
 The master gone, the servants what restrains? 390 
 
 Or dwells humanity where riot reigns? 
 
 Jove fix’d it certain, that whatever day 
 Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.” 
 
 This said, the honest herdsman strode before; 
 
 The musing monarch pauses at the door: 
 
 The dog, whom Fate* had granted to behold 
 His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll’d. 
 
 Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies; 
 
 So closed for ever faithful Argus’ eyes! 
 
 And now Telemachus, the first of all, 400 
 
 Observed Euma3us entering in the hall; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 291 
 
 Distant he saw, across the shady dome; 
 
 Then gave a sign, and beckon’d him to come: 
 
 There stood an empty seat, where late was placed, 
 
 In order due, the steward of the feast. 
 
 Who now was busied carving round the board; 
 
 Eumaeus took, and placed it near his lord. 
 
 Before him instant was the banquet spread, 
 
 And the bright basket piled with loaves of bread. 
 
 Next came Ulysses lowly at the door, 410 
 
 A figure despicable, old, and poor. 
 
 In squalid vests, with many a gaping rent, 
 
 Propp’d on a staflj and trembling as he went. 
 
 Then, resting on the threshold of the gate. 
 
 Against a cypress pillar lean’d his weight, 
 
 (Smoothed by the workman to a polish’d plain:) 
 
 The thoughtful son beheld, and call’d his swain: 
 
 “These viands and this bread, Eumaeus! bear. 
 
 And let yon mendicant our plenty share: 
 
 Then let him circle round the suitor’s board, 420 
 
 And try the bounty of each gracious lord. 
 
 Bold let him act, encouraged thus by me: 
 
 How ill, alas I do want and shame agree!” 
 
 His lord’s command the faithful servant bears; 
 
 The seeming beggar answers with his prayers: 
 
 “Bless’d be Telemachus! in every deed 
 Inspire him, Jove! in every wish succeed!” 
 
 This said, the portion from his son convey’d. 
 
 With smiles receiving on his scrip he laid. 
 
 Long as the minstrel swept the sounding wire, 430 
 
 He fed, and ceased when silence held the lyre. 
 
 Soon as the suitors from the banquet rose, 
 
 Minerva prompts the man of mighty woes 
 To tempt their bounties with a suppliant’s art. 
 
 And learn the generous from th’ ignoble heart; 
 
 (Not but his soul, resentful as humane. 
 
 Dooms to full vengeance all th’ offending train:) 
 
 With speaking eyes, and voice of plaintive sound, 
 
 Humble he moves, imploring all around. 
 
292 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 The proud feel pity, and relief bestow, 440 
 
 With such an image touch’d of human wo; 
 
 Inquiring all, their wonder they confess, 
 
 And eye the man, majestic in distress. 
 
 While thus they gaze, and question with their eyes, 
 
 The bold Melanthius to their thought replies: 
 
 “My lords! this stranger of gigantic port 
 The good Eumseus usher’d to your court. 
 
 Full well I mark’d the features of his face. 
 
 Though all unknown his clime, or noble race.” 
 
 “And is this present, swineherd! of thy hand? 450 
 Bring’st thou these vagrants to infest the land?” 
 
 Returns Antinoiis, with retorted eye: 
 
 “Objects uncouth, to check the genial joy? 
 
 Enough of these our court already grace, 
 
 Of giant stomach, and of famish’d face. 
 
 Such guests Eumseus to his country brings. 
 
 To share our feast, and lead the life of kings.” 
 
 To whom the hospitable swain rejoin’d: 
 
 “Thy passion, prince, belies thy knowing mind. 
 
 Who calls, from distant nations to his own, 4G0 
 
 The poor, distinguish’d by their wants alone? 
 
 Round the wide world are sought those men divine 
 Who public structures raise, or who design: 
 
 Those to whose eyes the gods their ways reveal. 
 
 Or bless with salutary arts to heal; 
 
 But chief to poets such respect belongs. 
 
 By rival nations courted for their songs; 
 
 These states invite, and mighty kings admire. 
 
 Wide as the sun displays his vital fire. 
 
 It is not so with want! how few that feed 470 
 
 A wretch unhappy, merely for his need! 
 
 Unjust to me, and all that serve the state. 
 
 To love Ulysses, is to raise thy hate. 
 
 For me, suffice the approbation won 
 Of my great mistress and her godlike son.” 
 
 To him Telemachus: “No more incense 
 The man by nature prone to insolence: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 203 
 
 Injurious minds just answers but provoke.’^ 
 
 Then turning to Antinous, thus he spoke: 
 
 “Thanks to thy care! whose absolute command 480 
 Thus drives the stranger from our court and land. 
 Heaven bless its owner with a better mind 1 
 From envy free, to charity inclined. 
 
 This both Penelop^ and I afford: 
 
 Then, prince I be bounteous of Ulysses’ board. 
 
 To give another’s is thy hand so slow? 
 
 So much more sweet to spoil than to bestow?” 
 
 “Whence, great TelemachusI this lofty strain?” 
 
 I Antinous cries, with insolent disdain: 
 
 “Portions like mine if every suitor gave, 490 
 
 Our wall this twelvemonth should not see the slave.” 
 
 He spoke; and lifting high above the board 
 His ponderous footstool, shook it at his lord. 
 
 The rest with equal hand conferred the bread; 
 
 He fill’d his scrip, and to the threshold sped; 
 
 But first before Antinous stopp’d, and said: 
 
 “ Bestow, my friend 1 thou dost not seem the worst 
 Of all the Greeks, but prince-like and the first; 
 
 Then, as in dignity, be first in worth. 
 
 And I shall praise thee through the boundless earth. 500 
 
 Once I enjoy’d in luxury of state 
 
 Whate’er gives man the envied name of great; 
 
 Wealth, servants, friends, were mine in better days. 
 
 And hospitality was then my praise: 
 
 In every sorrowing soul I pour’d delight, 
 
 And poverty stood smiling in my sight. 
 
 But Jove, all-governing, whose only will 
 Determines fate, and mingles good with ill, 
 
 Sent me (to punish my pursuit of gain) 
 
 With roving pirates o’er th’Egyptian main; 510 
 
 By Egypt’s silver flood our ships we moor; 
 
 Our spies commission’d straight the coast explore; 
 
 But, impotent of mind, with lawless will 
 The country ravage, and the natives kill. 
 
 The spreading clamour to their city flies. 
 
 And horse and foot in mingled tumult rise: 
 
294 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 The reddening dawn reveals the hostile fields, 
 
 Horrid with bristly spears, and gleaming shields: 
 
 Jove thunder’d on their side: our guilty head 
 We turn’d to flight; the gathering vengeance spread 520^ 
 On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lay dead. ; 
 
 Some few the foes in servitude detain; ‘ 
 
 Death ill exchanged for bondage and for pain! 
 
 Unhappy me a Cyprian took aboard, 
 
 ' And gave Demetor, Cyprus’ haughty lord: 
 
 Hither, to ’scape his chains, my course I steer. 
 
 Still cursed by fortune, and insulted here 1” 
 
 To whom Antinous thus his rage express’d: 
 
 “What god has plagued us with this gormand guest? 
 Unless at distance, wretch 1 thou keep behind, 530 
 
 Another isle, than Cyprus more unkind, 
 
 Another Egypt, shalt thou quickly find. 
 
 From all thou begg’st—a bold, audacious slave; 
 
 Nor all can give so much as thou canst crave. 
 
 Nor wonder I, at such profusion shown; 
 
 Shameless they give, who give what’s not their own. 
 
 The chief, retiring: “Souls like that in thee. 
 
 Ill suit such forms of grace and dignity. 
 
 Nor will that hand to utmost need afford 
 
 The smallest portion of a wasteful board, 540 
 
 Whose luxury whole patrimonies sweeps. 
 
 Yet starving Want, amidst the riot, weeps.” 
 
 The haughty suitor with resentment burns. 
 
 And, sourly smiling, this reply returns: 
 
 “Take that, ere yet thou quit this princely throng. 
 
 And dumb for ever be thy slanderous tongue 1” 
 
 He said, and high the whirling tripod flung. 
 
 His shoulder-blade received th’ ungentle shock; 
 
 He stood, and moved not, like a marble rock; 
 
 But shook his thoughtful head, nor more complain’d; 550 
 Sedate of soul, his character sustain’d. 
 
 And inly form’d revenge: then back withdrew; 
 
 Before his feet the well-fill’d scrip he threw. 
 
 And thus with semblance mild address’d the crew: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIL. 
 
 295 
 
 “May what I speak your princely minds approve, 
 
 Ye peers and rivals in this noble love! 
 
 Not for the hurt I grieve, but for the cause. 
 
 If, when the sword our country’s quarrel draws. 
 
 Or if, defending what is justly dear. 
 
 From Mars impartial some broad wound we bear; 560 
 I The generous motive dignifies the scar. 
 
 But for mere want, how hard to suffer wrong? 
 
 Want brings enough of other ills along! 
 
 Yet, if injustice never be secure. 
 
 If fiends revenge, and gods assert the poor, 
 
 Death shall lay low, the proud aggressor’s head. 
 
 And make the dust Antinous’ bridal bed.” 
 
 I “Peace, wretch! and eat thy bread without offence,” 
 The suitor cried, “or force shall drag thee hence, 
 
 Scourge through the public street, and cast thee there, 570 
 A mangled carcase for the hounds to tear.” 
 
 His furious deed the general anger moved. 
 
 All, even the worst, condemn’d; and some reproved: 
 
 “Was ever chief for wars like these renown’d? 
 
 Ill fits the stranger and the poor to wound. 
 
 Unbless’d thy hand! if, in this low disguise. 
 
 Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies: 
 
 They (curious oft to mortal actions) deign. 
 
 In forms like these, to round the earth and main. 
 
 Just and unjust recording in their mind, 580 
 
 And with sure eyes inspecting all mankind.” 
 
 Telemachus, absorb’d in thought severe. 
 
 Nourish’d deep anguish, though he shed no tear; 
 
 But the dark brow of silent sorrow shook; 
 
 While thus his mother to her virgins spoke: 
 
 I “On him and his may the bright god of day 
 That base, inhospitable blow repay!” 
 
 The nurse replies: “If Jove receives my prayer, 
 
 Not one survives to breathe to-morrow’s air.” 
 
 “All, all are foes, and mischief is their end: 590 
 
 Antinous most to gloomy death a friend,” 
 
 Replies the queen: “the stranger begg’d their grace, 
 
 And melting pity soften’d every face; 
 
296 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 From every other hand redress he found, 
 
 But fell Antinoiis answer’d with a wound.” 
 
 Amidst her maids thus spoke the prudent queen, 
 
 Then bade Eumasus call the pilgrim in. 
 
 “Much of th’ experienced man I long to hear, 
 
 If, or his certain eye, or listening ear. 
 
 Have learn’d the fortunes of my wandering lord?” GOO 
 Thus she; and good Eum 80 us took the word: 
 
 “A private audience if thy grace impart. 
 
 The stranger’s words may ease the royal heart. 
 
 His sacred eloquence in balm distils. 
 
 And the soothed heart with secret pleasure fills. 
 
 Three days have spent their beams, three nights have run 
 Their silent journey, since his tale begun, 
 
 Unfinish’d yet; and yet I thirst to hear! 
 
 As when some heaven-taught poet charms the ear, 
 (Suspending sorrow with celestial strain, 610 
 
 Breathed from the gods, to soften human pain,) 
 
 Time steals away with unregarded wing, 
 
 And the soul hears him, though he cease to sing. 
 
 Ulysses late he saw, on Cretan ground, 
 
 (His father’s guest,) for Minos’ birth renown’d. 
 
 He now but waits the wind to waft him o’er. 
 
 With boundless treasure, from Thesprotia’s shore.” 
 
 To this the queen: “The wanderer let me hear. 
 
 While yon luxurious race indulge their cheer, 
 
 Devour the grazing ox, and browsing goat, 620 
 
 And turn my generous vintage down their throat. 
 
 For where’s an arm like thine, Ulysses! strong. 
 
 To curb wild riot, and to punish wrong?” 
 
 She spoke. Telemachus then sneezed aloud; 
 Constrain’d, his nostrils echo’d through the crowd. 
 
 The smiling queen the happy omen bless’d: 
 
 “So may these impious fall, by Fate oppress’d!” 
 
 Then to Eumseus: “Bring the stranger, fly! ; 
 
 And if my questions meet a true reply, 
 
 Graced with a decent robe he shall retire, 630 
 
 A gift in season which his wants require.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 297 
 
 Thus spoke Penelop^. Eumseus flies 
 In duteous haste, and to Ulvsses cries: 
 
 *‘The queen invites thee, venerable guest! 
 
 A secret instinct moves her troubled breast, 
 
 Of her long absent lord from thee to gain 
 Some light, and soothe her soul’s eternal pain. 
 
 If true, if faithful thou, her grateful mind 
 Of decent robes a present has design’d: 
 
 So finding favour in the royal eye. 
 
 Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.” 
 
 “Fair truth alone,” the patient man replied, 
 
 “My words shall dictate, and my lips shall guide. 
 To him, to me, one common lot was given. 
 
 In equal woes, alas! involved by Heaven. 
 
 Much of his fates I know; but check’d by fear 
 I stand; the hand of violence is here: 
 
 Here boundless wrongs the starry skies invade. 
 
 And injured suppliants seek in vain for aid. 
 
 Let for a space the pensive queen attend. 
 
 Nor claim my story till the sun descend; 
 
 Then in such robes as suppliants may require. 
 Composed and cheerful by the genial fire. 
 
 When loud uproar and lawless riot cease. 
 
 Shall her pleased ear receive my words in peace.” 
 
 Swift to the queen returns the gentle swain: 
 
 “And say,” she cries, “does fear, or shame, detain 
 The cautious stranger? With the begging kind 
 Shame suits but ill.”—Eumseus thus rejoin’d: 
 
 “He only asks a more propitious hour. 
 
 And shuns (who would not?) wicked men in power; 
 At evening mild—meet season to confer— 
 
 By turns to question, and by turns to hear.” 
 
 “Whoe’er this guest,” the prudent queen replies, 
 “His every .step and every thought is wise: 
 
 For men like these on earth he shall not find 
 In all the miscreant race of human kind.” 
 
 Thus she. Eumseus all her words attends. 
 
 And, parting, to the suitor powers descends; 
 
 13* 
 
 610 
 
 650 
 
 660 
 
298 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVII. 
 
 There seeks Telemachus, and thus apart o 
 
 In whispers breathes the fondness ot his heart: 
 
 “The time, my lord, invites me to repair 
 Hence to the lodge; my charge demands my care. 
 These sons of murder thirst thy life to take; 
 
 Oh, guard it, guard it, for thy servant s sake! 
 
 “ Thanks to my friend,” he cries; “ but now the hour 
 Of night draws on, go seek the rural bower; 
 
 But first refresh: and at the dawn of day 
 Hither a victim to the gods convey. 
 
 Our life to Heaven’s immortal powers we trust, C 
 
 Safe in their care, for Heaven protects the just. 
 
 Observant of his voice, Eumaeus sate. 
 
 And fed recumbent on a chair of state. 
 
 Then instant rose, and, as he moved along, 
 
 ’Twas riot all amid the suitor-throng. 
 
 They feast, they dance, and raise the mirthful song. 
 Till now, declining toward the close of day. 
 
 The sun obliquely shot his dewy ray. 
 
BOOK XVIII. 
 
 The Fight between Ulysses and Irus. 
 
 Argument. —The beg'g-ar Irus insults Ulysses : the suitors promote the quar¬ 
 rel, in which Irus is worsted, and miserably handled. Penelope descends, 
 and receives the presents of the suitors. The dialogue of Ulysses with 
 Eurymachus. 
 
 While fix’d in thought the pensive hero sate, 
 
 A mendicant approach’d the royal gate; 
 
 A surly vagrant, of the giant kind. 
 
 The stain of manhood, of a coward mind; 
 
 From feast to feast, insatiate to devour. 
 
 He flew, attendant on the genial hour. 
 
 Him on his mother’s knees, when babe he lay. 
 
 She named Arnaeus on his natal-day; 
 
 But Irus his associates call’d the boy. 
 
 Practised the common messenger to fly; 10 
 
 Irus, a name expressive of th’ employ. 
 
 From his own roof, with meditated blows. 
 
 He strove to drive the man of mighty woes: 
 
 “Hence, dotard! hence, and timely speed thy way. 
 
 Lest dragg’d in vengeance thou repent thy stay; 
 
 See how with nods assent yon princely train! 
 
 But, honouring age, in mercy I refrain; 
 
 In peace away! lest, if persuasion fail, 
 
 This arm with blows more eloquent prevail.” 
 
 To whom, with stern regard: “Oh, insolence! 20 
 
 Indecently to rail without offence! 
 
 What bounty gives, without a rival share; 
 
 1 ask, what harms not thee, to breath this air; 
 
 Alike on alms we both precarious live; 
 
 And canst thou envy when the great relieve? 
 
 Know, from the bounteous heavens all riches flow, 
 
 And what man gives, the gods by man bestow; 
 
300 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 Proud as thou art, henceforth no more be proud, 
 
 Lest I imprint my vengeance in thy blood; 
 
 Old as I am, should once my fury burn, 30 
 
 How would’st thou fly, nor ev’n in thought return!” 
 
 “Mere woman-glutton!” thus the churl replied; 
 
 “A tongue so flippant, with a throat so wide! 
 
 Why cease I, gods! to dash those teeth away, 
 
 Like some vile boaPs, that, greedy of his prey. 
 
 Uproots the bearded corn? Rise, try the fight! 
 
 Gird well thy loins, approach, and feel my might! 
 
 Sure of defeat, before the peers engage; 
 
 Unequal fight, when youth contends with age!” 
 
 Thus in a wordy war their tongues display 
 More fierce intents, preluding to the fray. 40 
 
 Antinous hears; and, in a jovial vein. 
 
 Thus with loud laughter to the suitor-train: 
 
 “This happy day in mirth, my friends, employ. 
 
 And, lo! the gods conspire to crown our joy. 
 
 See, ready for the fight, and hand to hand. 
 
 Yon surly mendicants contentious stand: 
 
 Why urge we not to blows?”—Well pleased they spring 
 Swift from their seats, and thickening form a ring. 
 
 To whom Antinous: “Lo! enrich’d with blood, 
 
 A kid’s well-fatted entrails, tasteful food. 
 
 On glowing embers lie; on him bestow 50 
 
 The choicest portion who subdues his foe; 
 
 Grant him unrival’d in these walls to stay. 
 
 The sole attendant on the genial day.” 
 
 The lords applaud: Ulysses then with art. 
 
 And fears well feign’d, disguised his dauntless heart: 
 
 “Worn as I am with age, decay’d with wo; 
 
 Say, is it baseness, to decline the foe? 
 
 Hard conflict! when calamity and age 60 
 
 With vigorous youth, unknown to cares, engage! 
 
 Yet, fearful of disgrace, to try the day 
 Imperious hunger bids, and I obey; 
 
 But swear, impartial arbiters of right. 
 
 Swear to stand neutral, while we cope in fight.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 301 
 
 The peers assent; when straight his sacred head 
 Telemachus upraised, and sternly said: 
 
 “Stranger, if prompted to chastise the wrong 
 Of this bold insolent, confide, be strong! 
 
 Th’ injurious Greek that dares attempt a blow, 70 
 
 That instant makes Telemachus his foe; 
 
 And these my friends* shall guard the sacred ties 
 Of hospitality, for they are wise.” 
 
 Then, girding his strong loins, the king prepares 
 To close in combat, and his-body bares: 
 
 Broad spread his shoulders, and his nervous thighs 
 By just degrees, like well-turn’d columns rise; 
 
 Ample his chest, his arms are round and long. 
 
 And each strong joint Minerva knits more strong 
 (Attendant on her chief): the suitor-crowd 80 
 
 With wonder gaze; and, gazing, speak aloud: 
 
 “Irus, alas! shall Irus be no more? 
 
 Black fate impends, and this th’ avenging hour! 
 
 Gods! how his nerves a matchless strength proclaim, . 
 Swell o’er his well-strung limbs, and brace his frame!” 
 
 Then, pale with fears, and sickening at the sight. 
 
 They dragg’d th’ unwilling Irus to the fight; 
 
 From his blank visage fled the coward blood. 
 
 And his flesh trembled as aghast he stood. ^ 
 
 “Oh, that such baseness should disgrace the light! 90 
 Oh, hide it, death, in everlasting night!” 
 
 Exclaims Antinoiis. “Can a vigorous foe 
 Meanly decline to combat age and wo? 
 
 But hear me, wretch! if, recreant in the fray. 
 
 That huge bulk yield this ill-contested day. 
 
 Instant, thou sail’st, to Echetus resign’d; 
 
 A tyrant, fiercest of the tyrant kind. 
 
 Who casts thy mangled ears and nose a prey 
 To hungry dogs, and lops the man away.” 
 
 While with indignant scorn he sternly spoke, 100 
 
 In every joint the trembling Irus shook. 
 
 * Antinous and Eurymachus. 
 
302 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 Now front to front each frowning champion stands, 
 
 And poises high in air his adverse hands. 
 
 The chief yet doubts, or to the shades below 
 To fell the giant at one vengeful blow. 
 
 Or save his life; and soon his life to save 
 The king resolves, for mercy sways the brave. 
 
 That instant Irus, his huge arm extends. 
 
 Full on his shoulder the rude weight descends; 
 
 The sage Ulysses, fearful to disclose 110 
 
 The hero latent in the man of woes, 
 
 Check’d half his might; yet, rising to the stroke. 
 
 His jaw-bone dash’d, the crashing jaw-bone broke: 
 
 Down dropp’d he, stupid from the stunning wound; 
 
 His feet extended, quivering, beat the ground; 
 
 His mouth and nostrils spout a purple flood; 
 
 His teeth, all shatter’d, rush inmix’d with blood. 
 
 The peers transported, as outstretch’d he lies. 
 
 With bursts of laughter rend the vaulted skies; 
 
 Then dragg’d along, all bleeding from the wound, 120 
 His length of carcase trailing prints the ground; 
 
 Raised on his feet, again he reels, he falls. 
 
 Till propp’d, reclining on the palace-walls; 
 
 Then to his hand a staff* the victor gave. 
 
 And thus with just reproach address’d the slave: 
 
 “There, terrible, affright the dogs, and reign 
 A dreaded tyrant o’er the bestial train! 
 
 But mercy to the poor and stranger show. 
 
 Lest Heaven in vengeance send some mightier wo.” 
 
 Scornful he spoke, and o’er his shoulder flung 130 
 The broad patch’d scrip; the scrip in tatters hung. 
 
 Ill join’d, and knotted to a twisted thong. 
 
 Then, turning short, disdain’d a further stay; 
 
 But to the palace measured back the way. 
 
 There as he rested, gathering in a ring. 
 
 The peers with smiles address’d their unknown king: 
 
 “Stranger, may Jove, and all th’ aerial powers. 
 
 With every blessing crown thy happy hours! 
 
 Our freedom to thy prowess’d arm we owe 
 From bold intrusion of thy coward foe; 
 
 140 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII 
 
 303 
 
 Instant the flying sail the slave shall wing 
 To Echetus, the monster of a king.” 
 
 While pleased he hears, Antinoiis bears the food, 
 
 A kid’s well-fatted entrails, rich with blood: 
 
 The bread from canisters of shining mould 
 Amphinomus; and wines that laugh in gold: 
 
 And, “Oh!” he mildly cries, “may Heaven display 
 A beam of glory o’er thy future day I 
 Alas! the brave too oft is doom’d to bear 
 The gripes of poverty and stings of care.” 150 
 
 To whom, with thought mature, the king replies: 
 
 “ The tongue speaks wisely, when the soul is wise; 
 
 Such was thy father I in imperial state. 
 
 Great without vice, that oft attends the great; 
 
 Nor from the sire art thou, the son, declined; 
 
 Then hear my words, and grave them in thy mind! 
 
 Of all that breathes, or grovelling creeps on earth. 
 
 Most man is vain! calamitous by birth: 
 
 To-day, with power elate, in strength he blooms; 
 
 The haughty creature on that power presumes: 160 
 
 Anon, from Heaven a sad reverse he feels; 
 
 Untaught to bear, ’gainst Heaven the wretch rebels; 
 
 For man is changeful, as his bliss or wo: 
 
 Too high when prosperous, when distress’d too low. 
 There was a day when, with the scornful great, 
 
 I swell’d in pomp and arrogance of state: 
 
 Proud of the power that to high birth, belongs; 
 
 And used that power to justify my wrongs. 
 
 Then let not man be proud; but, firm of mind, 
 
 Bear the best humbly, and the worst resign’d; 170 
 
 Be dumb when Heaven afflicts! unlike yon train 
 Of haughty spoilers, insolently vain; 
 
 Who make their queen and all her wealth a prey: 
 
 But vengeance and Ulysses wing their way. 
 
 Oh, may’st thou, favour’d by some guardian power. 
 
 Far, far be distant in that deathful hour! 
 
 For suie I am, if stern Ulysses breathe, 
 
 These lawless riots end in blood and death.” 
 
304 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 Then to the gods the rosy juice he pours, 
 
 And the drain’d goblet to the chief restores. 180 
 
 Stung to the soul, o’ercast with holy dread. 
 
 He shook the graceful honours of his head; 
 
 His boding mind the future wo forestalls, 
 
 In vain! by great Telemachus he falls. 
 
 For Pallas seals his doom: all sad he turns 
 To join the peers; resumes his throne, and mourns. 
 
 Meanwhile, Minerva with instinctive fires 
 Thy soul, Penelope, from Heaven inspires: 
 
 With flattering hopes the suitors to betray. 
 
 And seem to meet, yet fly, the bridal-day; 190 
 
 Thy husband’s wonder, and thy son’s to raise; 
 
 And crown the mother and the wife with praise. 
 
 Then, while the streaming sorrow dims her eyes, 
 
 Thus with a transient smile the matron cries: 
 
 “Eurynom^l to go where riot reigns 
 I feel an impulse, though my soul disdains; 
 
 To my loved son the snares of death to show, 
 
 And in the traitor-friend unmask the foe; 
 
 Who, smooth of tongue, in purpose insincere, 
 
 ' Hides fraud in smiles, while death is ambush’d there.” 200 
 “Go, warn thy son, nor be the warning vain. 
 
 Replied the sagest of the royal train: 
 
 “But, bathed, anointed, and adorn’d, descend; 
 
 Powerful of charms, bid every grace attend: 
 
 The tide of flowing tears awhile suppress; 
 
 Tears but indulge the sorrow, not repress. 
 
 Some joy remains: to thee a son is given. 
 
 Such as, in fondness, parents ask of Heaven.” 
 
 “Ah me! forbear,” returns the queen, “forbear. 
 
 Oh! talk not, talk not of vain beauty’s care: 210 
 
 No more I bathe, since he no longer sees 
 Those charms, for whom alone I wish to please: 
 
 The day that bore Ulysses from this coast. 
 
 Blasted the little bloom these cheeks could boast. 
 
 But instant bid Autono5 descend. 
 
 Instant Hippodam^ our steps attend; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 305 
 
 Ill suits it female virtue to be seen 
 Alone, indecent, in the "walks of men.” 
 
 Then while Eurynom^ the mandate bears. 
 
 From heaven Minerva shoots with guardian cares: 220 
 O’er all her senses as the couch she'press’d 
 She pours a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest; 
 
 With every beauty every feature arms. 
 
 Bids her cheeks glow, and lights up all her charms. 
 
 In her love-darting eyes awakes the fires 
 (Immortal gifts!) to kindle soft desires: 
 
 From limb to limb an air majestic sheds. 
 
 And the pure ivory o’er her bosom spreads. 
 
 Such Venus shines, when with a measured bound 
 
 She smoothly gliding swims th’ harmonious round, 230 
 
 When with the Graces in the dance she moves, 
 
 And fires the gazing gods with ardent loves. 
 
 Then to the skies her flight Minerva bends. 
 
 And to the queen the damsel-train descends: 
 
 Waked at their steps, her flowing eyes unclose; 
 
 The tear she wipes, and thus renews her woes: 
 
 “Howe’er, ’tis well, that sleep awhile can free 
 With soft forgetfulness, a wretch like me! 
 
 Oh! were it given to yield this transient breath. 
 
 Send, oh Diana! send the sleep of death! 240 
 
 Why must I waste a tedious life in tears. 
 
 Nor bury in the silent grave my cares? 
 
 Oh, my Ulysses! ever-honour’d name! 
 
 For thee I mourn till death dissolves my frame.” 
 
 Thus wailing, slow and sadly she descends. 
 
 On either hand a damsel-train attends; 
 
 Full where the dome its shining valves expands. 
 
 Radiant before the gazing peers, she stands; 
 
 A veil translucent, o’er her brow display’d. 
 
 Her beauty seems, and only seems, to shade. 250 
 
 Sudden she lightens in their dazzled eyes, 
 
 And sudden flames in every bosom rise; 
 
 They send their eager souls with every look. 
 
 Till silence thus th’ imperial matron broke: 
 
 U 
 
306 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 “Oh why, my son, why now no more appears ^ ^ 
 
 That warmth of soul that urged thy younger years? 
 
 Thy riper days no growing worth impart, 
 
 A man in stature, still a boy in heart! 
 
 Thy well-knit frame, unprofitably strong, 
 
 Speaks thee a hero, from a hero sprung: 260 
 
 But the just gods in vain those gifts bestow, 
 
 Oh, wise alone in form, and brave in show! 
 
 Heavens! could a stranger feel oppression’s hand 
 Beneath thy roof, and could’st thou tamely stand? 
 
 If thou the stranger’s righteous cause decline. 
 
 His is the sufferance, but the shame is thine.” 
 
 To whom, with filial awe, the prince returns: 
 
 “That generous soul with just resentment burns; 
 
 Yet, taught by time, my heart has learn’d to glow 
 For others’ good, and melt at others’ wo; 270 
 
 But, impotent these riots to repel, 
 
 I bear their outrage, though my soul rebel; 
 
 Helpless amid the snares of death I tread; 
 
 And numbers leagued in impious union dread. 
 
 But now no crime is theirs: this wrong proceeds 
 From Irus, and the guilty Irus bleeds. 
 
 Oh, would to Jove! or her whose arms display 
 The shield of Jove, or him who rules the day. 
 
 That yon proud suitors, who licentious tread 
 These courts, within these courts like Irus bled: 280 
 
 Whose loose head tottering, as with wine oppress’d, - 
 Obliquely drops, and nodding knocks his breast; 
 Powerless to move, his staggering feet deny 
 The coward wretch the privilege to fly.” 
 
 Then to the queen Eurymachus replies: 
 
 “Oh, justly loved, and not more fair than wise! 
 
 Should Greece through all her hundred states survey 
 Thy finish’d charms, all Greece would own thy sway: 
 
 In rival crowds, contest the glorious prize. 
 
 Dispeopling realms to gaze upon thy eyes: 
 
 Oh, woman! loveliest of the lovely kind, 
 
 In body perfect, and complete in mind!” 
 
 290 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 307 
 
 “Ah me,” returns the queen, “when from this shore 
 Ulysses sail’d, then beauty was no more! 
 
 The gods decreed these eyes no more should keep 
 Their wonted grace, but only serve to weep. 
 
 Should he return, whate’er my beauties prove. 
 
 My virtues last; my brightest charm is love. 
 
 Now, grief, thou all art mine! the gods o’ercast 
 * My soul with woes, that long, ah! long must last. 
 Too faithfully my heart retains the day 
 That sadly tore my royal lord away: 
 
 He grasp’d my hand, and, ‘Oh, my spouse! I leave 
 Thy arms,’ he cried, ‘perhaps to find a grave: 
 
 Fame speaks the Trojans bold; they boast the skill 
 To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill, 
 
 To dart the spear, and guide the rushing car 
 With dreadful inroad through the walks of war. 
 
 My sentence is gone forth, and ’tis decieed 
 Perhaps by righteous Heaven that I must bleed! 
 
 My father, mother, all I trust to thee; 
 
 To them, to them transfer the love of me: 
 
 But, when my son grows man, the royal sway 
 Resign, and happy be thy bridal-day! 
 
 ' Such were his words; and Hymen now prepares 
 To light his torch, and give me up to cares; 
 
 Th’ afflictive hand of wrathful Jove to bear: 
 
 A wretch the most complete that breathes the aii! 
 Fall’n even below the rights to woman due! 
 
 Careless to please, with insolence ye woo! 
 
 The generous lovers, studious to succeed. 
 
 Bid their whole herds and ffocks in banquets bleed; 
 By precious gifts the vow sincere display; 
 
 You, only you, make her ye love your prey.” 
 
 Well pleased Ulysses hears his queen deceive 
 The suitor-train, and raise «. thirst to give: 
 
 False hopes she kindles, but those hopes betray, 
 
 And promise, yet elude, the bridal-day. 
 
 While yet she speaks, the gay Antinous cries, 
 “Offspring of kings, and more than woman wise! 
 
 300 
 
 310 
 
 320 
 
 330 
 
308 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 ’Tis right: his man’s prerogative to give, 
 
 And custom bids thee without shame receive; 
 
 Yet never, never from thy dome we move. 
 
 Till Hymen lights the torch of spousal love.” 
 
 The peers despatch’d their heralds to convey 
 The gifts of love; with speed they take the way. 
 
 A robe Antinoiis gives, of shining dyes. 
 
 The varying hues in gay confusion rise. 
 
 Rich from the artist’s hand! Twelve clasps of gold. 
 Close to the lessening waist, the vest infold; 340 
 
 Down from the swelling loins the vest unbound 
 Floats in bright waves redundant o’er the ground. 
 
 A bracelet, rich with gold, with amber gay. 
 
 That shot effulgence like the solar ray, 
 
 Eurymachus presents; and ear-rings bright. 
 
 With triple stars, that cast a trembling light. 
 
 Pisander bears a necklace, wrought with art: 
 
 And every peer, expressive of his heart, 
 
 A gift bestows: this done, the queen ascends. 
 
 And slow behind her damsel-train attends. 350 
 
 Then to the dance they form the vocal strain, 
 
 Till Hesperus leads forth the starry train; 
 
 And now he raises, as the day-light fades. 
 
 His golden circlet in the deepening shades: 
 
 Three vases, heap’d with copious fires, display 
 O’er all the palace a fictitious day; 
 
 From space to space the torch wide beaming burns. 
 
 And sprightly damsels trim the rays by turns. 
 
 To whom the king: “Ill suits your sex to stay 
 Alone with men! ye modest maids, away! 300 
 
 Go, Avith the queen the spindle guide; or cull 
 (The partners of her cares) the silver wool; 
 
 Be it my task the torches to supply, 
 
 Ev’n till the morning-lamp adorns the sky; 
 
 Ev’n till the morning, with unwearied care. 
 
 Sleepless I watch; for I have learn’d to bear.” 
 
 Scornful they heard: Melantho, fair and young, 
 (Melantho from the loins of Dolius sprung. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 309 
 
 Who with the queen her years an infant led, 
 
 With the soft fondness of a daughter bred,) 370 
 
 Chiefly derides; regardless of the cares 
 Her queen endures, polluted joys she shares 
 Nocturnal with Eurymachus: with eyes 
 That speak disdain, the wanton thus replies: 
 
 “Oh! whither wanders thy distemper’d brain. 
 
 Thou bold intruder on a princely train? 
 
 Hence to the vagrant’s rendezvous repair; 
 
 Or shun in some black forge the midnight air. 
 
 Proceeds this boldness from a turn of soul. 
 
 Or flows licentious from the copious bowl? 380 
 
 Is it that vanquish’d Irus swells thy mind? 
 
 A foe may meet thee of a braver kind. 
 
 Who, shortening with a storm of blows thy stay. 
 
 Shall send thee howling all in blood away 1” 
 
 To whom with frowns: “Oh, impudent in wrong! 
 
 Thy lord shall curb that insolence of tongue; 
 
 Know, to Telemachus I tell th’ offence; 
 
 The scourge, the scourge shall lash thee into sense.” 
 
 With conscious shame they hear the stern rebuke. 
 
 Nor longer durst sustain the sovereign look. 
 
 Then to the servile task the monarch turns 
 His royal hands: each torch refulgent burns 
 With added day. Meanwhile, in museful mood, 
 Absorb’d in thought, on vengeance fix’d he stood. 
 
 And now the martial maid, by deeper wrongs 
 To rouse Ulysses, points the suitor’s tongues: 
 
 Scornful of age, to taunt the virtuous man. 
 
 Thoughtless and gay, Eurymachus began: 
 
 “Hear me,” he cries, “confederates and friends! 
 
 Some god, no doubt, this stranger kindly sends; 
 
 The shining baldness of his head survey. 
 
 It aids our torch-light, and reffects the ray.” 
 
 Then to the king that level’d haughty Troy: 
 
 “Say, if large hire can tempt thee to employ 
 Those hands in work; to tend the rural trade. 
 
 To dress the walk, and form th’ embowering shade? 
 
 390 
 
 400 
 
310 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 
 
 So food and raiment constant will I give: 
 
 But idly thus thy soul prefers to live, 
 
 And starve by strolling, not by work to thrive.’^ 
 
 To whom, incensed: “Should we, O prince, engage 
 In rival tasks beneath the burning rage 410 
 
 Of summer suns; were both constrain’d to wield 
 Foodless the scythe along the burden’d field; 
 
 Or should we labour while the ploughshare wounds, 
 
 With steers of equal strength, th’ allotted grounds; 
 Beneath my labours, how thy wondering eyes 
 Might see the sable field at once arise! 
 
 Should Jove dire war unloose, with spear and shield. 
 
 And nodding helm, I tread th’ ensanguined field. 
 
 Fierce in the van: then would’st thou, would’st thou, say, 
 Misname me glutton, in that glorious day? 421 
 
 No, thy ill-judging thoughts the brave disgrace; 
 
 ’Tis thou injurious art, not I am base: 
 
 Proud to seem brave among a coward train! 
 
 But know thou art not valorous, but vain. 
 
 Gods! should the stern Ulysses rise in might. 
 
 These gates would seem too narrow for thy flight.” 
 
 While yet he speaks, Eurymachus replies. 
 
 With indignation flashing from his eyes: 
 
 “ Slave, I with justice might deserve the wrong, 430 
 Should I not punish that opprobrious tongue, 
 
 Irreverent to the great, and uncontrol’d. 
 
 Art thou from wine, or innate folly, bold? 
 
 Perhaps, these outrages from Irus flow, 
 
 A worthless triumph o’er a worthless foe!” 
 
 He said: and with full force a footstool threw: 
 
 Whirl’d from his arm, with erring rage it flew; ^ 
 
 Ulysses, cautious of the vengeful foe. 
 
 Stoops to the ground, and disappoints the blow. 
 
 Not so a youth who deals the goblet round, , 440 
 
 Full on his shoulder it inflicts a wound; 
 
 Dash’d from his hand the sounding goblet flies. 
 
 He shrieks, he reels, he falls, and breathless lies. 
 
 Then wild uproar and clamour mount the sky. 
 
 Till mutual thus the peers indignant cry: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XVIII. 311 
 
 “Oh, had this stranger sunk to realms beneath, 
 
 To the black realms of darkness and of death, 
 
 Ere yet he trod these shores! to strife he draws 
 Peer against peer; and what the weighty cause? 
 
 A vagabond! for him the great destroy, 450 
 
 In vile, ignoble jars, the feast of joy ?” 
 
 To whom the stern Telemachus uprose: 
 
 “Gods! what wild folly from the goblet flows! 
 
 Whence this unguarded openness of soul. 
 
 But from the license of the.copious bowl? 
 
 Or Heaven delusion sends: but hence, away! 
 
 Force I forbear, and without force obey.” 
 
 Silent, abash’d, they hear the stern rebuke. 
 
 Till thus Amphinomus the silence broke: 
 
 “True are his words, and he whom truth offends, 460 
 Not with Telemachus, but truth, contends; 
 
 Let not the Imnd of violence invade 
 
 The reverend stranger, or the spotless maid; 
 
 Retire we hence! but crown with rosy wine 
 The flowing goblet to the powers divine! 
 
 Guard he his guest beneath whose roof he stands; 
 
 This justice, this the social rite demands.” 
 
 The peers assent; the goblet Mulius crown’d 
 With purple juice, and bore in order round; 
 
 Each peer successive his libation pours 470 
 
 To the bless’d gods who fill the aerial bowers; 
 
 Then, swill’d with wine, with noise the crowds obey. 
 
 And, rushing forth, tumultuous reel away. 
 
 
BOOK XIX. 
 
 The Discovery of Ulysses to Euryclea. 
 
 Argument. —Ulysses and his son remove the weapons out of the armory. 
 Ulysses, in conversation with Penelope, g-ives a fictitious account of his 
 adventures; then assures her he had formerly entertained her husband in 
 Crete; and describes exactly his person and dress, affirms to have heard 
 of him in Phseacia and Thesprotia, and that his return is certain, and 
 within a month. He then goes to bathe, and is attended by Euryclea, 
 who discovers him to be Ulysses by the scar upon his leg*, which he 
 formerly received in hunting* the wild boar on Parnassus. The poet 
 inserts a dig*ression, relating that accident, with all its particulars. 
 
 Consulting secret with the blue-eyed maid, 
 
 Still in the dome divine Ulysses stay’d; 
 
 Revenge, mature for act, inflamed his breast; 
 
 And thus the son the fervent sire address’d: 
 
 “Instant convey those steely stores of war 
 To distant rooms, disposed with secret care: 
 
 The cause demanded by the suitor-train, 
 
 To soothe their fears, a specious reason feign: 
 
 Say, since Ulysses left his natal coast, 
 
 Obscene with smoke, their beamy lustre lost, 10 
 
 His arms deform the roof they wont t’ adorn; 
 
 From the glad walls inglorious lumber torn. 
 
 Suggest that Jove the peaceful thought inspired. 
 
 Lest, they by sight of swords to fury fired. 
 
 Dishonest wounds, or violence of soul. 
 
 Defame the bridal-feast and friendly bowl.” 
 
 The prince, obedient to the sage command, 
 
 To Euryclea thus: “The female band 
 In their apartments keep; secure the doors; 
 
 These swarthy arms among the covert stores 20 
 
 Are seemlier hid; my thoughtless youth they blame, 
 Imbrown’d with vapour of the smouldering flame.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 313 
 
 “In happy hour,” pleased Euryclea cries, 
 
 “ Tutor’d by early woes, grow early wise! 
 
 Inspect with sharpen’d sight, and frugal care. 
 
 Your patrimonial wealth, a prudent heir. 
 
 But who the lighted taper will provide 
 (The female train retired) your toils to guide?” 
 
 “Without infringing hospitable right. 
 
 This guest,” he cried, “shall bear the guiding light: 30 
 
 I cheer no lazy vagrants with repast; 
 
 They share the meal that earn it ere they taste.” 
 
 He said; from female ken she strait secures 
 The purposed deed, and guards the bolted doors: 
 
 Auxiliar to his son, Ulysses bears 
 
 The plumy-crested helms and pointed spears. 
 
 With shields indented deep in glorious wars. 
 
 Minerva viewless on her charge attends. 
 
 And with her golden lamp his toil befriends. 
 
 Not such the sickly beams, which, insincere, 40 
 
 Gild the gross vapour of this nether sphere! 
 
 A present deity the prince confess’d. 
 
 And wrapt with ecstasy the sire address’d: 
 
 “What miracle thus dazzles with surprise! 
 
 Distinct in rows the radiant columns rise: 
 
 The walls, where’er my wondering sight I turn. 
 
 And roofs, amidst a blaze of glory burn! 
 
 Some visitant of pure ethereal race. 
 
 With his bright presence deigns the dome to grace.”> 
 
 “Be calm,” replies the sire; “to none impart, 50 
 
 But oft revolve the vision in thy heart: 
 
 Celestials, mantled in excess of light. 
 
 Can visit, unapproach’d by mortal sight. 
 
 Seek thou repose; while here I sole remain 
 T’ explore the conduct of the female train: 
 
 The pensive queen, perchance, desires to know 
 The series of my toils, to soothe her wo.” 
 
 With tapers flaming day his train attends. 
 
 His bright alcove th’ obsequious youth ascends: 
 
 Soft slumberous shades his drooping eyelids close, 
 
 Till on her eastern throne Aurora glows. 
 
 14 
 
 60 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX.‘ 
 
 While, forming plans of death, Ulysses stay’d, ' 
 In counsel secret with the martial maid; 
 
 Attendant nymphs in beauteous order wait 
 The queen, descending from her bower of state. 
 
 Her cheeks the warmer blush of Venus wear. 
 Chasten’d with coy Diana’s pensive air. 
 
 An ivory seat, with silver ringlets graced. 
 
 By famed Icmalius wrought, the menials placed: 
 With ivory silver’d-thick the footstool shone. 
 
 O’er which the panther’s various hide was thrown. 
 The sovereign seat with graceful air she press d; 
 
 To different tasks their toil the nymphs address’d: 
 The golden goblets some, and some restored 
 From stains of luxury the polish d board: 
 
 These to remove th’ expiring embers came. 
 
 While those with unctuous fir foment the flame. 
 
 ’Twas then Melantho with imperious mien 
 Renew’d th’ attack, incontinent of spleen: 
 
 “Avaunt 1” she cried, “offensive to my sight! 
 Deem not in ambush here to lurk by night, 
 
 Into the womar state asquint to pry; 
 
 A day-devomer, and an evening spy! 
 
 Vagrant, begone 1 before this blazing brand 
 Shall urge!” And waved it hissing in her hand. 
 
 Th’ insulted hero rolls his wrathful eyes. 
 
 And, “Why so turbulent of soul?” he cries; 
 
 “Can these lean shrivel’d limbs, unnerved with age. 
 These poor but honest rags, enkindle rage? 
 
 In crowds we wear the badge of hungry fate; 
 
 And beg, degraded from superior state! 
 
 Constrain’d, a rent-charge on the rich I live! 
 Reduced to crave the good I once could give: 
 
 A palace, wealth, and slaves, I late possess’d. 
 
 And all that makes the great be call’d the bless’d; 
 My gate, an emblem of my open soul. 
 
 Embraced the poor, and dealt a bounteous dole. 
 Scorn not the sad reverse, injurious maid! 
 
 ’Tis Jove’s high will, and be his will obey’d! 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 315 
 
 Nor think thyself exempt: that rosy prime 100 
 
 Must share the general doom of withering time; 
 
 To some new channel soon, the changeful tide 
 Of royal grace th’ offended queen may guide: 
 
 And her loved lord unplume thy towering pride. 
 
 Or were he dead, ’tis wisdom to beware; 
 
 Sweet blooms the prince beneath Apollo’s care; 
 
 Your deeds with quick impartial eye surveys; 
 
 Potent to punish what he cannot praise.” 
 
 Her keen reproach had reach’d the sovereign’s ear: 
 “Loquacious insolent!” she cries, “forbear; 110 
 
 To thee the purpose of my soul I told: 
 
 Venial discourse, unblamed, with him to hold; 
 
 The storied labours of my wandering lord, 
 
 To soothe my grief, he haply may record; 
 
 Yet him, my guest, thy venom’d rage hath stung; 
 
 Thy head shall pay the forfeit of thy tongue I 
 But thou on whom my palace cares depend, 
 
 Eurynome, regard the stranger-friend: 
 
 A seat, soft spread with furry spoils, prepare; 
 
 Due-distant for us both to speak and hear.” 120 
 
 The menial fair obeys with duteous haste: 
 
 A seat adorn’d with furry spoils she placed: 
 
 Due-distant for discourse the hero sate; 
 
 When thus the sovereign from her chair of state: 
 
 “Reveal, obsequious to my first demand. 
 
 Thy name, thy lineage, and thy native land.” 
 
 He thus: “Oh, queen! whose far-resounding fame 
 Is hounded only by the starry frame. 
 
 Consummate pattern of imperial sway. 
 
 Whose pious rule a warlike race obey! 130 
 
 In wavy gold thy summer vales are dress’d; 
 
 Thy autumns bend with copious fruit oppress’d: 
 
 With flocks and herds each grassy plain is stored; 
 
 And fish of every fin thy seas afford: 
 
 Their affluent joys the grateful realms confess, 
 
 And bless the Power that still delights to bless. 
 
 Gracious permit this prayer, imperial dame! 
 
 Forbear to know my lineage, or my name; 
 
316 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 Urge not this breast to heave, these eyes to weep; 
 
 In sweet oblivion let my sorrows sleep! 
 
 My woes awaked will violate your ear; 
 
 And to this gay, censorious train appear 
 A winy vapour melting in a tear.” 
 
 “Their gifts the gods resumed,” the queen rejoin’d, 
 “Exterior grace, and energy of mind. 
 
 When the dear partner of my nuptial joy, 
 
 Auxiliar troops combined, to conquer Troy. 
 
 My lord’s protecting hand alone would raise 
 My drooping verdure, and extend my praise! 
 
 Peers from the distant Samian shore resort; 
 
 Here with Dulichians join’d, besiege the court: 
 Zacynthus, green with ever-shady groves. 
 
 And Ithaca, presumptuous boast their loves: 
 Obtruding on my choice a second lord. 
 
 They press the Hymensean rite abhorr’d. 
 
 Misrule thus mingling with domestic cares, 
 
 I live regardless of my state affairs; 
 
 Receive no stranger-guest, no poor relieve; 
 
 But ever, for my lord, in secret grieve!— 
 
 This art, instinct by some celestial power, 
 
 I tried, elusive of the bridal-hour: 
 
 ‘Ye peers,’ I cry, ‘who press to gain a heart. 
 
 Where dead Ulysses claims no future part; 
 
 Rebate your loves, each rival suit suspend. 
 
 Till this funereal web my labours end: 
 
 Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath 
 A pall of state, the ornament of death. 
 
 For when to fate he bows, each Grecian dame 
 With just reproach were licensed to defame. 
 
 Should he, long honour’d in supreme command. 
 Want the last duties of a daughter’s hand.’— 
 
 The fiction pleased; their loves I long elude; 
 
 The night still ravel’d what the day renew’d: 
 
 Three years successful in my art conceal’d. 
 
 My ineffectual fraud the fourth reveal’d: 
 
 Befriended by my own domestic spies. 
 
 The woof unwrought the suitor-train surprise. 
 
 140 
 
 ■ ) 
 
 150 
 
 160 
 
 no 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 Sin 
 
 From nuptial rites they now no more recede, 
 
 And fear forbids to falsify the brede.* 
 
 My anxious parents urge a speedy choice, 180 
 
 And to their suffrage gain the filial voice. 
 
 For rule mature, Telemachus deplores 
 
 His dome dishonour’d, and exhausted stores.— 
 
 But, stranger! as thy days seem full of fate. 
 
 Divide discourse, in turn thy birth relate: 
 
 Thy port asserts thee of distinguish’d race; 
 
 No poor unfather’d product of disgrace.” 
 
 “Princess!” he cries, “renew’d by your command. 
 
 The dear remembrance of my native land 
 
 Of secret grief unseals the fruitful source: 190 
 
 And tears repeat their long-forgotten course! 
 
 So pays the wretch whom fate constrains to roam. 
 
 The dues of nature to his natal home! 
 
 But inward on my soul let sorrow prey. 
 
 Your sovereign will my duty bids obey. 
 
 Crete awes the circling waves, a fruitful soil! 
 
 And ninety cities crown the sea-born isle: 
 
 Mix’d with her genuine sons, adopted names 
 In various tongues avow their various claims: 
 
 Cydonians, dreadful with the bended yew, 200 
 
 And bold Pelasgi boast a native’s due: 
 
 The Dorians, plumed amid the files of war. 
 
 Her foodful glebe with fierce Achaians share; 
 
 Cnossus, her capital of high command. 
 
 Where sceptred Minos, with impartial hand. 
 
 Divided right; each ninth revolving year 
 By Jove received in council to confer. 
 
 His son Deucalion bore successive sway; 
 
 His son, who gave me first to view the day 1 
 
 The royal bed an elder issue bless’d, 210 
 
 Idomeneus, whom Ilian fields attest 
 
 Of matchless deeds: untrain’d to martial toil, 
 
 I lived inglorious in my native isle. 
 
 *A braid, in allusion to the work she was professis*^ to perform. 
 
318 the odyssey, book XIX. 
 
 Studious of peace, and iEthon is my name. 
 
 ’Twas then to Crete the great Ulysses came; 
 
 For elemental war, and wintry Jove, 
 
 From Malea’s gusty cape his navy drove 
 To bright Lucina’s fane; the shelfy coast 
 Where loud Amnissus in the deep is lost. 
 
 His vessels moor'd, (an incommodious port!) 220 
 
 The hero speeded to the Cnossian court: 
 
 Ardent the partner of his arms to find. 
 
 In leagues of long commutual friendship join’d. 
 
 Vain hope! ten suns had warm’d the western strand. 
 Since my brave brother with his Cretan band 
 Had sail’d for Troy; but to the genial feast 
 My honour’d roof received the royal guest: 
 
 Beeves for his train the Cnossian peers assign, 
 
 A public treat, with jars of generous wine. 
 
 Twelve days, while Boreas vex’d th’ aerial space, 230 
 My hospitable dome he deign’d to grace: 
 
 And when the north had ceased the stormy roar, 
 
 He wing’d his voyage to the Phrygian shore.” 
 
 Thus the famed hero, perfected in wiles. 
 
 With fair similitude of truth beguiles 
 The queen’s attentive ear: dissolved in wo. 
 
 From her bright eyes the tears unbounded flow. 
 
 As snows collected on the mountain freeze. 
 
 When milder regions breathe a vernal breeze. 
 
 The fleecy pile obeys the whispering gales, 240 
 
 Ends in a stream, and murmurs through the vales: 
 
 So, melted with the pleasing tale he told, 
 
 Down her fair cheek the copioug torrent poll’d: 
 
 She to her present lord laments him lost. 
 
 And views that object which she wants the most! 
 Withering at heart to see the weeping fair. 
 
 His eyes look stern, and cast a gloomy stare; 
 
 Of horn the stiff, relentless balls appear. 
 
 Of globes of iron fix’d in either sphere; 
 
 Firm wisdom interdicts the softening tear. 250 
 
 A speechless interval of grief ensues. 
 
 Till thus the queen the tender theme renews: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 319 
 
 “Stranger! that e’er thy hospitable roof 
 Ulysses graced, confirm by faithful proof; 
 
 Delineate to my view my warlike lord, 
 
 His form, his habit, and his train record.” 
 
 “’Tis hard,” he cries, “to bring to sudden sight 
 Ideas that have wing’d their distant flight; 
 
 Rare on the mind those images are traced. 
 
 Whose footsteps twenty winters have defaced: 260 
 
 But what I can, receive.—In ample mode, 
 
 A robe of military purple flow’d 
 
 O’er all his frame: illustrious on his breast 
 
 The double-clasping gold the king confess’d. 
 
 In the rich woof a hound. Mosaic drawn. 
 
 Bore on full stretch, and seized a dapple fawn. 
 
 Deep in the neck his fangs indent their hold; 
 
 They pant, and struggle in the moving gold. 
 
 Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone 
 A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun: 270 
 
 The female train who round him throng’d to gaze. 
 
 In silent wonder sigh’d unwilling praise. 
 
 A sabre, when the warrior press’d to part, 
 
 I gave, enamel’d with Vulcanian art; 
 
 A mantle purple-tinged, and radiant vest. 
 
 Dimension’d equal to his size, express’d 
 Affection grateful to my honour’d guest. 
 
 A favourite herald in his train I knew, 
 
 His visage solemn, sad, of sable hue: 
 
 Short woolly curls o’erfleeced his bending head, 280 
 O’er which a promontory-shoulder spread; 
 
 Eurybates! in whose large soul alone 
 Ulysses viewed an image of his own.” 
 
 His speech the tempest of her grief restored;. 
 
 In all he told, she recognised her lord; 
 
 But when the storm was spent in plenteous showers, 
 
 A pause inspiriting her languish’d powers: 
 
 “Oh, thou,” she cried, “whom first inclement fate 
 Made welcome to my hospitable gate; 
 
 With all thy wants the name of poor shall end: 290 
 
 Henceforth live honour’d, my domestic friend i 
 
320 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 The vest much envied on your native coast, 
 
 And regal robe with figured gold emboss’d, 
 
 In happier hours my artful hand employ’d. 
 
 When my loved lord this blissful bower enjoy’d: 
 The fall of Troy erroneous and forlorn 
 Doom’d to survive, and never to return!” 
 
 Then he, with pity touch’d: “Oh, royal dame! 
 Your ever-anxious mind, and beauteous frame. 
 From the devouring rage of grief reclaim. 
 
 I not the fondness of your soul reprove 
 For such a lord! who crown’d your virgin love 
 With the dear blessing of a fair increase; 
 Himself adorn’d with more than mortal grace: 
 Yet while I speak, the mighty wo suspend; 
 Truth forms my tale; to pleasing truth attend: 
 The royal object of your dearest care. 
 
 Breathes in no distant clime the vital air: 
 
 In rich Thesprotia, and the nearer bound 
 Of Thessaly, his name I heard renown’d: 
 Without retinue, to that friendly shore 
 Welcomed with gifts of price, a sumless store! 
 His sacrilegious train, who dared to prey 
 On herds devoted to the god of day. 
 
 Were doom’d by Jove, and Phoebus’ just decree, 
 To perish in the rough Trinacrian sea. 
 
 To better fate the blameless chief ordain’d: 
 
 A floating fragment of the wreck regain’d. 
 
 And rode the storm, till, by the billows toss’d. 
 
 He landed on the fair Phasacian coast. 
 
 That race, who emulate the life of gods. 
 
 Receive him joyous to their bless’d abodes: 
 Large gifts confer, a ready sail command, 
 
 To speed his voyage to the Grecian strand. 
 
 But your wise lord (in whose capacious soul 
 High schemes of power in just succession roll) 
 His Ithaca refused from favouring Fate, 
 
 Till copious wealth might guard his regal state. 
 Phaedon the fact affirm’d, whose sovereign sway 
 Thesprotian tribes, a duteous race, obey; 
 
 ' ^ 1 i A. 
 
 i - 
 
 ' 
 
 (i 
 
 300 
 
 . < ■ 
 
 . * i 
 
 -r 
 
 d 
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 ' i 
 
 310 
 
 /J 
 
 320^ 
 
 < 
 
 iuff 
 
 ’ll 
 
 i 
 
 
 330 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 321 
 
 And bade the gods this added truth attest, 
 
 (While pure libations crown’d the genial feast,) 
 
 That anchor’d in his port the vessels stand, 
 
 To waft the hero to his natal land. 
 
 I for Dulichium urge the watery way. 
 
 But first the Ulyssean wealth survey: 
 
 So rich the value of a store so vast 
 Demands the pomp of centuries to waste! 
 
 The darling object of your royal love 
 
 Was journied thence to Dodonean Jove; 340 
 
 By the sure precept of the sylvan shrine. 
 
 To form the conduct of his great design: 
 
 Irresolute of soul, his state to shroud 
 In dark disguise, or come a king avow’d? 
 
 Thus lives your lord; nor longer doom’d to roam: 
 
 Soon will he grace this dear paternal dome. 
 
 By Jove, the source of good, supreme in power! 
 
 By the bless’d genius of this friendly bower! 
 
 I ratify my speech: before the sun 
 
 His annual longitude of heaven shall run; 350 
 
 When the pale empress of yon starry strain 
 In the next month renews her faded wane, 
 
 Ulysses will assert his rightful reign.” 
 
 “What thanks! what boon!” replied the queen, “are due, 
 When time shall prove the storied blessing true? 
 
 My lord’s return should fate no more retard, 
 
 Envy shall sicken at thy vast reward. 
 
 But my prophetic tears, alas! presage. 
 
 The wounds of Destiny’s relentless rage. 
 
 I long must weep, nor will Ulysses come, 3GC 
 
 With royal gifts to send you honour’d home!— 
 
 Your other task, ye menial train, forbear: 
 
 Now wash the stranger, and the bed prepare: 
 
 With splendid palls the downy fleece adorn: 
 
 Uprising early with the purple morn. 
 
 His sinews, shrunk with age and stiff' with toil, 
 
 In the warm bath foment with fragrant oil. 
 
 Then with Telemachus the social feast 
 
 Partaking free, my sole invited guest; 
 
 14* V 
 
322 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 Whoe’er neglects to pay distinction due, 370 
 
 The breach of hospitable right may rue. 
 
 The vulgar of my sex I most exceed 
 In real fame, when most humane my deed; 
 
 And vainly to the praise of queen aspire 
 If, stranger, I permit that mean attire 
 Beneath the feastful bower. A narrow space 
 Confines the circle of our destined race; 
 
 ’Tis ours with good the scanty round to grace. 
 
 Those who to cruel wrong their state abuse. 
 
 Dreaded in life, the mutter’d curse pursues; 380 
 
 By death disrobed of all their savage powers, 
 
 Then licensed rage her hateful prey devours. ^ 
 
 But he whose in-born worth his acts commend. 
 
 Of gentle soul, to human race a friend. 
 
 The wretched he relieves diflTuse his fame, ^ 
 
 And distant tongues extol the patron-name.” 
 
 “Princess,” he cried, “in vain your bounties flow 
 On me, confirm’d and obstinate in wo. 
 
 When my loved Crete received my final view, 
 
 And from my weeping eyes her cliffs withdrew, 390 
 These tatter’d weeds, my decent robe resign’d, 
 
 I chose, the livery of a woful mind! 
 
 Nor will my heart-corroding cares abate 
 With splendid palls, and canopies of state: 
 
 Low-couch’d on earth, the gift of sleep I scorn. 
 
 And catch the glances of the waking morn. 
 
 The delicacy of your courtly train 
 
 To wash a wretched wanderer would disdain; 
 
 But if, in track of long experience tried. 
 
 And sad similitude of woes allied, 400 
 
 Some wretch reluctant views aerial light, 
 
 To her mean hand assign the friendly rite.” 
 
 Pleased with his wise reply, the queen rejoin’d: 
 
 “Such gentle manners, and so sage a mind. 
 
 In all who graced this hospitable bower 
 I ne’er discern’d before this social hour. 
 
 Such servant as your humble choice reqtiires. 
 
 To light received the lord of my desires. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 323 
 
 New from the birth: and with a mother’s hand 
 
 His tender bloom to manly growth sustain’d: 410 
 
 Of matchless prudence and a duteous mind: 
 
 Though now to life’s extremes! verge declined, 
 
 Of strength superior to the toil assign’d.— 
 
 Rise, Euryclea! with officious care. 
 
 For the poor friend the cleansing bath prepare: 
 
 This debt his correspondent fortunes claim. 
 
 Too like Ulysses, and perhaps the same! 
 
 Thus old with woes my fancy paints him now 1 
 For age untimely marks the careful brow.” 
 
 Instant, obsequious to the mild command, 420 
 
 Sad Euryclea rose: with trembling hand 
 She veils the torrent of her tearful eyes; 
 
 And thus impassion’d to herself replies: 
 
 “Son of my love, and monarch of my cares! 
 
 What pangs for thee this wretched bosom bears! 
 
 Are thus by Jove who constant beg his aid 
 With pious deed, and pure devotion, paid? 
 
 He never dared defraud the sacred fane 
 Of perfect hecatombs in order slain: 
 
 There oft implored his tutelary power, 430 
 
 Long to protract the sad sepulchral hour; 
 
 That, form’d for empire with paternal care. 
 
 His realm might recognise an equal heir. 
 
 Oh, destined head! The pious vows are lost; 
 
 His god forgets him on a foreign coast!— 
 
 Perhaps, like thee, poor guest! in wanton pride 
 The rich insult him, and the young deride! 
 
 Conscious of worth reviled, thy generous mind 
 The friendly rite of purity declined; 
 
 My will concurring with my queen’s command, 440 
 Accept the bath from this obsequious hand. 
 
 A strong emotion shakes my anguish’d breast; 
 
 In thy whole form Ulysses seems express’d: 
 
 Of all the wretched harbour’d on our coast, 
 
 None imaged e’er like thee my master lost.” 
 
 Thus half-discover’d through the dark disguise. 
 
 With cool composure feign’d, the chief replies: 
 
324 the odyssey, book XIX. 
 
 “You join your suffrage to the public vote: 
 
 The same you think, have all beholders thought.” 
 
 He said. Replenish’d from the purest springs, 450 
 The laver straight with busy care she brings: 
 
 In the deep vase that shone like burnish’d gold, 
 
 The boiling fluid temperates the cold. 
 
 Meantime, revolving in his thoughtful mind 
 The scar, with which his manly knee was sign’d; 
 
 His face averting from the crackling blaze. 
 
 His shoulders intercept th’ unfriendly rays: 
 
 Thus cautious, in th’ obscure he hoped to fly 
 The curious search of Euryclea’s eye. 
 
 Cautious in vain! nor ceased the dame to find 460 
 
 The scar with which his manly knee was sign’d. 
 
 This on Parnassus, combating the boar, 
 
 With glancing rage the tusky savage tore. 
 
 Attended by his brave maternal race. 
 
 His grandsire sent him to the sylvan chase, 
 
 Autolycus the bold: (a mighty name 
 
 For spotless faith and deeds of martial fame: 
 
 Hermes, his patron-god, those gifts bestow’d, ' 
 
 Whose shrine with weanling lambs he wont to load.) 
 
 His course to Ithaca this hero sped, 470 
 
 When the first product of Laertes’ bed 
 
 Was new disclosed to birth: the banquet ends. 
 
 When Euryclea from the queen descends. 
 
 And to his fond embrace the babe commends. 
 
 “Receive,” she cries, “your royal daughter’s son; 
 
 And name the blessing that your prayers have won.” 
 
 Then thus the hoary chief: “My victor arms 
 Have awed the realms around with dire alarms: 
 
 A sure memorial of my dreaded fame 
 
 The boy shall bear; Ulysses be his name! 480 
 
 And when with filial love the youth shall come 
 
 To view his mother’s soil, my Delphic dome 
 
 With gifts of price shall send him joyous home.” 
 
 Lured with the promised boon, when youthful prime * 
 Ended in man, his mother’s natal clime 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 325 
 
 Ulysses sought; with fond affection dear 
 Amphitea’s arms received the royal heir: 
 
 Her ancient lord* an equal joy possess’d; 
 
 Instant he bade prepare the genial feast: 
 
 A steer to form the sumptuous banquet bled, 490 
 
 Whose stately growth five flowery summers fed: 
 
 His sons divide, and roast with artful care 
 The limbs; then all the tasteful viands share. 
 
 Nor ceased discourse, (the banquet of the soul,) 
 
 Till Phoebus, wheeling to the western goal. 
 
 Resign’d the skies, and night involved the pole. 
 
 Their drooping eyes the slumberous shade oppress’d. 
 Sated they rose, and all retired to rest. 
 
 Soon as the morn, new-robed in purple light. 
 
 Pierced with her golden shafts the rear of night, 500 
 Ulysses and his brave maternal race. 
 
 The young Autolyci, assay the chase. 
 
 Parnassus, thick perplex’d with horrid shades. 
 
 With deep-mouthed hounds the hunter-troop invades: 
 What-time the sun, from ocean’s peaceful stream. 
 
 Darts o’er the lawn his horizontal beam. 
 
 The pack impatient snuff the tainted gale; 
 
 The thorny wilds the woodmen fierce assail; 
 
 And, foremost of the train, his cornel spear 
 
 Ulysses waved, to rouse the savage war. 510 
 
 Deep in the rough recesses of the wood, 
 
 A lofty copse, the growth of ages, stood; 
 
 Nor winter’s boreal blast, nor thunderous shower, 
 
 Nor solar ray, could pierce the shady bower. 
 
 With wither’d foliage strew’d, a heapy store! 
 
 The warm pavilion of a dreadful boar. 
 
 Roused by the hounds’ and hunters’ mingling cries, 
 
 The savage from his leafy shelter flies: 
 
 With fiery glare his sanguine eye-balls shine, 
 
 And bristles high impale his horrid chine. 520 
 
 Young Ithacus advanced, defies the foe. 
 
 Poising his lifted lance in act to throw; 
 
 * Autolycus. 
 
326 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 The savage renders vain the wound decreed, 
 
 And springs impetuous with opponent speed! 
 
 His tusks oblique he aim’d, the knee to gore; 
 
 Aslope they glanced, the sinewy fibres tore. 
 
 And bared the bone: Ulysses, undismay’d. 
 
 Soon with redoubled force the wound repaid; 
 
 To the right shoulder-joint the spear applied; 
 
 His further flank with seeming purple dyed; 530 
 
 On earth he rush’d with agonizing pain; 
 
 With joy, and vast surprise, th’ applauding train 
 View’d his enormous bulk extended on the plain. 
 
 With bandage firm Ulysses’ knee they bound; 
 
 Then, chanting mystic lays, the closing wound 
 Of sacred melody confess’d the force; 
 
 The tides of life regain’d their azure course. 
 
 Then back they led the youth with loud acclaim; 
 Autolycus, enamour’d with his fame. 
 
 Confirm’d the cure: and from the Delphic dome 540 
 With added gifts return’d him glorious home. 
 
 He safe at Ithaca with joy received. 
 
 Relates the chase, and early praise achieved. 
 
 Deep o’er his knee inseam’d remain’d the scar; 
 
 Which noted token of the woodland war 
 When Euryclea found, th’ ablution ceased: 
 
 Down dropp’d the leg, from her slack hand released; 
 
 The mingled fluids from the vase redound; 
 
 The vase reclining floats the floor around! 
 
 Smiles dew’d with tears the pleasing strife express’d 
 Of grief and joy alternate in her breast. 550 
 
 Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died; 
 
 At length, abrupt—“My son!—my king!” she cried. 
 
 His neck with fond embrace infolding fast, 
 
 Full on the queen her raptured eye she cast. 
 
 Ardent to speak the monarch safe restored: 
 
 But, studious to conceal her royal lord, 
 
 Minerva fix’d her mind on views remote. 
 
 And from the present bliss abstracts her thought. 
 
 His hand to Euryclea’s mouth applied, 
 
 “Art thou foredoom’d my pest?” the hero cried; 
 
 560 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 327 
 
 “Thy milky founts my infant lips have drain’d; 
 
 And have the Fates thy babbling age ordain’d 
 To violate the life thy youth sustain’d? 
 
 An exile, have I told, with weeping eyes. 
 
 Full twenty annual suns in distant skies: 
 
 At length return’d, some god inspires thy breast 
 To know thy king, and here I stand confess’d. 
 
 This heaven-discover’d truth to thee consign’d. 
 
 Reserve, the treasure of thy inmost mind: 570 
 
 Else, if the gods my vengeful arm sustain. 
 
 And prostrate to my sword the suitor-train. 
 
 With their lewd mates, thy undistinguish’d age 
 Shall bleed, a victim to vindictive rage.” 
 
 Then thus rejoin’d the dame, devoid of fear: 
 
 “What words, my son, have pass’d thy lips severe? 
 
 Deep in my soul the trust shall lodge secured; 
 
 With ribs of steel, and marble heart, immured. 
 
 When Heaven, auspicious to thy right avow’d. 
 
 Shall prostrate to thy sword the suitor-crowd; 580 
 
 The deeds I’ll blazon of the menial fair; 
 
 The lewd to death devote, the virtuous spare.” 
 
 “Thy aid avails me not,” the chief replied; 
 
 “My own experience shall their doom decide; 
 
 A witness-judge precludes a long appeal: 
 
 Suffice it thee thy monarch to conceal.” 
 
 He said: obsequious, with redoubled pace. 
 
 She to the fount conveys th’ exhausted vase: 
 
 The bath renew’d, she ends the pleasing toil 
 
 With plenteous unction of ambrosial oil. 590 
 
 Adjusting to his limbs the tatter’d vest. 
 
 His former seat received the stranger-guest; 
 
 Whom thus, with pensive air, the queen address’d: 
 
 “Though night, dissolving grief in grateful ease. 
 
 Your drooping eyes with soft oppression seize. 
 
 Awhile, reluctant to her pleasing force, 
 
 Suspend the restful hour with sweet discourse. 
 
 The day (ne’er brighten’d with a beam of joy!) 
 
 My menials and domestic cares employ: 
 
328 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 And, unattended by sincere repose, 600 
 
 The night assists by ever-wakeful woes: « 
 
 When nature’s hush’d beneath her brooding shade, ‘ ^ * 
 My echoing griefs the starry vault invade. ' ‘ 
 
 As when the months are clad in flowery green, ' ‘ ^ 
 
 Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen, ‘ 
 
 To vernal airs attunes her varied strains: 
 
 And Itylus sounds warbling o’er the plains: 
 
 Young Itylus, his parents’ darling joy! 
 
 Whom chance misled the mother to destroy; 
 
 Now doom’d a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy: 
 So in nocturnal solitude forlorn, 610 
 
 A sad variety of woes I mourn 1 
 My mind, reflective, in a thorny maze. 
 
 Devious from care to care, incessant strays. 
 
 Now, wavering doubt succeeds to long despair; 
 
 Shall I my virgin nuptial-vow revere? 
 
 And, joining to my son’s my menial train. 
 
 Partake his councils, and assist his reign? 
 
 Or since, mature in manhood, he deplores 
 
 His dome dishonour’d, and exhausted stores, 620 
 
 Shall I, reluctant! to his will accord; 
 
 And from the peers select the noblest lord; 
 
 So by my choice avow’d, at length decide 
 These wasteful love-debates, a mourning bride? 
 
 A visionary thought I’ll now relate; 
 
 Illustrate, if you know, the shadow’d fate: 
 
 “ A team of twenty geese, (a snow-white train I) 
 
 Fed near the limpid lake with golden grain. 
 
 Amuse my pensive hours. The bird of Jove 
 
 Fierce from his mountain-eyrie downward drove; 630 
 
 Each favourite fowl he pounced with deathful sway, 
 
 And back triumphant winged his airy way. 
 
 My pitying eyes effused a plenteous stream. 
 
 To view their death thus imaged in a dream: 
 
 With tender sympathy to soothe my soul, 
 
 A troop of matrons, fancy-form’d, condole. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 329 
 
 But while with grief and rage my bosom burn’d, 
 
 Sudden the tyrant of the skies return’d: 
 
 Perch’d on the battlements he thus began 
 
 (In form an eagle, but in voice a man): 640 
 
 ‘O queen! no vulgar vision of the sky 
 
 I come, prophetic of approaching joy: 
 
 View in this plumy form thy victor-lord; 
 
 The geese (a glutton race) by thee deplored. 
 
 Portend the suitors fated to my sword.’ 
 
 This said, the pleasing feather’d omen ceased. 
 
 When, from the downy bands of sleep released. 
 
 Fast by the limpid lake my swan-like train 
 I found, insatiate of the golden grain.” 
 
 “The vision self-explain’d,” the chief replies, 650 
 
 “Sincere reveals the sanction of the skies; 
 
 Ulysses speaks his own return decreed; 
 
 And by his sword the suitors sure to bleed.” 
 
 “Hard is the task, and rare,” the queen rejoin’d, 
 “Impending destinies in dreams to find; 
 
 Immured within the silent bower of sleep. 
 
 Two portals firm the various phantoms keep: 
 
 Of ivory one; whence flit, to mock the brain. 
 
 Of winged lies a light fantastic train: 
 
 The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn, 660 
 
 And columns fair incased with polish’d horn: 
 
 Where images of truth for passage wait. 
 
 With visions manifest of future fate. 
 
 Not to this troop, I fear, that phantom soar’d. 
 
 Which spoke Ulysses to his realm restored: 
 
 Delusive semblance 1—but my remnant life 
 Heaven shall determine in a gameful strife: 
 
 With that famed bow Ulysses taught to bend, 
 
 For me the rival archers shall contend. 
 
 As on the listed field he used to place 670 
 
 Six beams, opposed to six in equal space; 
 
 Elanced afar by his unerring art. 
 
 Sure through six circlets flew the whizzing dart. 
 
330 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XIX. 
 
 So, when the sun restores the purple day, 
 
 Their strength and skill the suitors shall assay: 
 
 To him the spousal honour is decreed. 
 
 Who through the rings directs the feather’d reed. 
 
 Torn from these walls, (where long the kinder powers 
 With pomp and joy have wing’d my youthful hours!) 
 
 On this poor breast no dawn of bliss shall beam; 680 
 
 The pleasure past supplies a copious theme 
 
 For many a dreary thought, and many a doleful dream!” 
 
 “Propose the sportive lot,” the chief replies, 
 
 “Nor dread to name yourself the bowyer’s prize: 
 
 Ulysses will surprise th’ unfinish’d game 
 Avow’d, and falsify the suitor’s claim.” 
 
 To whom, with grace serene, the queen rejoin’d: 
 
 “ In all thy speech what pleasing force I find 1 
 O’er my suspended wo thy words prevail; 
 
 I part reluctant from the pleasing tale. 690 
 
 But Heaven, that knows what all terrestrials need. 
 
 Repose to night, and toil to day decreed; 
 
 Grateful vicissitude! yet me withdrawn. 
 
 Wakeful to weep, and watch the tardy dawn. 
 
 Establish’d use enjoins; to rest and joy 
 Estranged, since dear Ulysses sail’d to Troy 1 
 Meantime, instructed is the menial tribe 
 Your couch to fashion as yourself prescribe.” 
 
 Thus affable, her bower the queen ascends; 
 
 The sovereign step a beauteous train attends: 700 
 
 There imaged to her soul Ulysses rose; 
 
 Down her pale cheek new-streaming sorrow flows: 
 
 Till soft oblivious shade Minerva spread. 
 
 And o’er her eyes ambrosial slumber shed. 
 
BOOK XX. 
 
 Minerva again appears to Ulysses; Destruction of the Wooers foretold. 
 
 Argument. —While Ulysses lies in the vestibule of the palace, he is witness 
 to the disorders of the women. Minerva comforts him, and casts him 
 asleep. At his waking', he desires a favourable sign from Jupiter, which 
 is granted. The feast of Apollo is celebrated by the people, and the suitors 
 banquet in the palace. Telemachus exerts his authority among them, 
 notwithstanding which, Ulysses is insulted by Ctesippus, and the rest 
 continue in their excesses. Strange prodigies are seen by Theoclymenus 
 the augur, who explains them to the destruction of the wooers. 
 
 An ample hide divine Ulysses spread, 
 
 And form’d of fleecy skins his humble bed: 
 
 (The remnants of the spoil the suitor-crowd 
 In festival devour’d, and victims vow’d.) 
 
 Then o’er the chief, Eurynom^ the chaste. 
 
 With duteous care, a downy carpet cast: 
 
 With dire revenge his thoughtful bosom glows, 
 
 And, ruminating wrath, he scorns repose. 
 
 As thus pavilion’d in the porch he lay. 
 
 Scenes of lewd loves his wakeful eyes survey, 10 
 
 While to nocturnal joys impure repair. 
 
 With wanton glee, the prostituted fair. 
 
 His heart with rage this new dishonour stung, 
 
 W^avering his thoughts in dubious balance hung! 
 
 Or instant should he quench the guilty flame 
 With their own blood, and intercept the shame; 
 
 Or to their lust indulge a last embrace. 
 
 And let the peers consummate the disgrace: 
 
 ' Round his swoln heart the murmurous fury rolls; 
 
 As o’er her young the mother mastiff growls, 2C 
 
 And bays the stranger-groom: so wrath compress’d. 
 Recoiling, mutter’d thunder in his breast. 
 
 “Poor, suffering heart!” he cried, “support the pain 
 Of wounded honour, and thy rage restrain. 
 
332 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 Not fiercer woes thy fortitude could foil, 
 
 When the brave partners of thy ten years’ toil 
 Dire Polypheme devour’d: I then was freed 
 By patient prudence from the death decreed.” 
 
 Thus anchor’d safe on Reason’s peaceful coast, 
 Tempests of wrath his soul no longer toss’d; 
 Restless his body rolls, to rage resign’d: 
 
 As one who long with pale-eyed famine pined, 
 
 The savoury cates on glowing embers cast, 
 Incessant turns, impatient for repast: 
 
 Ulysses so, from side to side devolved. 
 
 In self-debate the suitors’ doom resolved. 
 
 When, in the form of mortal nymph array’d. 
 
 From heaven descends the Jove-born martial maid; 
 And hovering o’er his head in view confess’d. 
 
 The goddess thus her favourite care address’d: 
 
 “Oh thou, of mortals most inured to woes! 
 
 Why roll those eyes unfriended of repose? 
 
 Beneath thy palace-roof forget thy care: 
 
 Bless d in thy queen I bless’d in thy blooming heir I 
 Whom, to the gods when suppliant fathers bow, 
 They name the standard of their dearest vow.” 
 
 Just is thy kind reproach,” the chief rejoin’d; 
 Deeds full of fate distract my various mind. 
 
 In contemplation wrapt. This hostile crew 
 What single arm hath prowess to subdue? 
 
 Or if, by Jove’s and thy auxiliar aid. 
 
 They’re doom’d to bleed; oh, say, celestial maid 1 
 Where shall Ulysses shun, or how sustain. 
 
 Nations embattled to revenge the slain?” 
 
 Oh, impotence of faith!” Minerva cries; 
 
 “If man on frail unknowing man relies. 
 
 Doubt ye the gods? Lo, Pallas’ self descends. 
 Inspires thy counsels, and thy toils attends. 
 
 In me affianced, fortify thy breast. 
 
 Though myriads leagued thy rightful claim contest: 
 My sure divinity shall bear the shield. 
 
 And edge thy sword to reap the glorious field. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 333 
 
 ' Now, pay the debt to craving nature due, 
 
 Her faded powers with balmy rest renew.” 
 
 She ceased: ambrosial slumber seals his eyes; 
 
 His care dissolves in visionary joys; 
 
 The goddess, pleased, regains her natal skies. 
 
 Not so the queen; the downy bands of sleep 
 ; By grief relax’d, she waked again to weep: 
 
 A gloomy pause ensued of dumb despair; 70 
 
 Then thus her fate invoked, with fervent prayer: 
 
 I “Diana! speed thy deathful ebon dart, 
 
 I! And cure the pangs of this convulsive heart. 
 
 „ «. Snatch me, ye whirlwinds! far from human race, 
 
 Toss’d through the void illimitable space: . 
 
 Or, if dismounted from the rapid cloud. 
 
 Me with his whelming wave let Ocean shroud! 
 
 So, Pandarus, thy hopes, three orphan-fair, 
 i Were doom’d to wander through the devious air; 
 
 Thyself untimely, and thy consort died, 80 
 
 But four celestials both your cares supplied. 
 
 Venus in tender delicacy rears 
 
 With honey, milk, and wine, their infant years: 
 
 , Imperial Juno to their youth assign’d 
 A form majestic, and sagacious mind: 
 
 With shapely growth Diana graced the bloom. 
 
 And Pallas taught the texture of the loom. 
 
 But while, to learn their lots in nuptial love. 
 
 Bright Cythersea sought the bower of Jove, 
 
 (The god supreme, to whose eternal eye 90 
 
 The registers of fate expanded lie;) 
 
 Wing’d harpies snatch’d th’ unguarded charge away. 
 
 And to the furies bore a grateful prey. 
 
 Be such my lot! Or thou, Diana, speed 
 Thy shaft, and send me joyful to the dead! 
 
 To seek my lord among the warrior-train. 
 
 Ere second vows my bridal faith profane. 
 
 When woes the waking sense alone assail. 
 
 While night extends her soft oblivious veil. 
 
 Of other wretches’ care the torture ends:. 
 
 No truce the warfare of my heart suspends! 
 
 100 
 
334 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 The night renews the day-distracting theme, 
 
 And airy terrors sable every dream. 
 
 The last alone a kind illusion wrought, 
 
 And to my bed my loved Ulysses brought. 
 
 In manly bloom, and each majestic grace. 
 
 As when for Troy he left my fond embrace: 
 
 Such raptures in my beating bosom rise, 
 
 I deem it sure a vision of the skies.” 
 
 Thus while Aurora mounts her purple throne. 
 
 In audible laments she breathes her moan; 
 
 The sounds assault Ulysses’ wakeful ear: 
 
 Misjudging of the cause, a sudden fear 
 Of his arrival known, the chief alarms; 
 
 He thinks the queen is rushing to his arms. 
 
 Upspringing from his couch, with active haste 
 The fleece and carpet in the dome he placed: 
 
 (The hide, without, imbibed the morning air;) 
 
 And thus the gods invoked with ardent prayer: 
 
 “Jove, and ethereal thrones! with Heaven to friend, 120 
 If the long series of my woes shall end; 
 
 Of human race now rising from repose, 
 
 Let one a blissful omen here disclose: 
 
 And, to confirm my faith, propitious Jove! 
 
 Vouchsafe the sanction of a sign above.” 
 
 While lowly thus the chief adoring bows. 
 
 The pitying god his guardian aid avows. 
 
 Loud from a sapphire sky his thunder sounds; 
 
 With springing hope the hero’s heart rebounds. 
 
 Soon, with consummate joy to crown his prayer, 130 
 An omen’d voice invades his ravish’d ear. 
 
 Beneath a pile, that close the dome adjoin’d, / 
 
 Twelve female slaves the gift of Ceres grind; . ' 
 
 Task’d for the royal board to bolt the bran 
 From the pure flour (the growth and strength of man):’ 
 Discharging to the day the labour due, / 
 
 Now early to repose the rest withdrew; /. 
 
 One maid, unequal to the task assign’d. 
 
 Still turn’d the toilsome mill with anxious mind; 
 
 And thus in bitterness of soul divined: 140 : 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 335 
 
 ‘‘Father of gods and men, whose thunders roll 
 O’er the cerulean vault, and shake the pole: 
 
 Whoe’er from heaven has gain’d this rare ostent 
 (Of granted vows a certain signal sent). 
 
 In this bless’d moment of accepted prayer, 
 
 Piteous, regard a wretch consumed with care! 
 
 Instant, O Jove! confound the suitor-train. 
 
 For whom, o’ertoil’d, I grind the golden grain; 
 
 Far from this dome the lewd devourers cast, 
 
 And be this festival decreed their last!” 150 
 
 Big with their doom denounced in earth and sky, 
 Ulysses’ heart dilates with secret joy. 
 
 Meantime, the menial train with unctuous wood 
 Heap’d high the genial hearth, Vulcanian food: 
 
 When, early dress’d, advanced the royal heir: 
 
 With manly grasp he waved a martial spear, 
 
 A radiant sabre graced his purple zone. 
 
 And on his foot the golden sandal shone. 
 
 His steps impetuous to the portal press’d, 
 
 And Euryclea thus he there address’d: 160 
 
 “Say thou, to whom my youth its nurture owes. 
 
 Was care for due refection and repose 
 Bestow’d the stranger-guest? Or waits he grieved. 
 
 His age not honour’d, nor his wants relieved? 
 Promiscuous grace on all the queen confers; 
 
 (In woes bewilder’d, oft the wisest errs.) 
 
 The wordy vagrant to the dole aspires. 
 
 And modest worth with noble scorn retires.” 
 
 She thus: “Oh, cease that ever-honour’d name 
 To blemish now! it ill deserves your blame. 170 
 
 A bowl of generous wine sufficed the guest: 
 
 In vain the queen the night-refection press’d; 
 
 Nor would he court repose in downy state, 
 
 Unbless’d, abandon’d to the rage of Fate! 
 
 A hide beneath the portico was spread, 
 
 And fleecy skins composed a humble bed: 
 
 A downy carpet, cast with duteous care. 
 
 Secured him from the keen nocturnal air.” 
 
336 the odyssey, BOOK XX. 
 
 His cornel javelin poised, with regal port, ^ 
 
 To the sage Greeks convened in Themis’ court, f lSO | 
 Forth-issuing from the dome the prince repair’d; s' , . 
 
 Two dogs of chase, a lion-hearted guard. 
 
 Behind him sourly stalk’d. Without delay 
 The dame divides the labours of the day; 
 
 Thus urging to the toil the menial train: 
 
 “What marks of luxury the marble stain! 
 
 Its wonted lustre let the floor regain; j 
 
 The seats with purple clothe in order due; 
 
 And let th’ abstersive sponge the board renew: | 
 
 Let some refresh the vase’s sullied mould; 190 | 
 
 Some bid the goblets boast their native gold: | 
 
 Some to the spring, with each a jar, repair, f 
 
 And copious waters pure for bathing bear: 
 
 Despatch 1 for soon the suitors will assay. 
 
 The lunar feast-rites to the god of day.” ^ 
 
 She said: with duteous haste.a bevy fair 
 Of twenty virgins to the spring repair: 
 
 With varied toils the rest adorn the dome. 
 
 Magnificent, and blithe the suitors come. | 
 
 Some wield the sounding axe; the dodder’d oaks 200 
 Divide, obedient to the forceful strokes. 
 
 Soon from the fount, with each a brimming urn, 
 
 (Eumjeus in their train,) the maids return. 
 
 Three porkers for the feast, all brawny-chined. 
 
 He brought; the choicest of the tusky kind: 
 
 In lodgements first secure his care he view’d. 
 
 Then to the king his friendly speech renew’d: 
 
 “Now say sincere, my guest! the suitor-train. 
 
 Still treat they worth with lordly, dull disdain? 
 
 Or speaks their deed a bounteous mind humane?” 210 
 “Some pitying god,” Ulysses sad replied, 
 
 “With vollied vengeance blast their towering pride! 
 
 No conscious blush, no sense of right, restrains 
 The tides of lust that swell their boiling veins: 
 
 From vice to vice their appetites are toss’d. 
 
 All cheaply sated at another’s cost!” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 337 
 
 While thus the chief his woes indignant told, 
 Melanthius, master of the bearded fold, 
 
 The goodliest goats of all the royal herd 
 
 Spontaneous to the suitors’ feast preferr’d: 220 
 
 Two grooms assistant bore the victims bound; 
 
 With quivering cries the vaulted roofs resound: 
 
 And, to the chief austere, aloud began 
 The wretch unfriendly to the race of man: 
 
 “Here, vagrant, still! offensive to my lords! 
 
 Blows have more energy than airy words; 
 
 These arguments I’ll use: nor conscious shame. 
 
 Nor threats, thy bold intrusion will reclaim: 
 
 On this high feast the meanest vulgar boast 
 A plenteous board! Hence! seek another host!” 230 
 Rejoinder to the churl the king disdain’d, 
 
 But shook his head, and rising wrath restrain’d. 
 
 From Cephallenia, cross the surgy main 
 Philetius late arrived, a faithful swain. 
 
 A steer ungrateful to the bull’s embrace. 
 
 And goats he brought, the pride of all their race, 
 Imported in a shallop not his own: 
 
 The dome reechoed to their mingled moan. 
 
 Straight to the guardian of the bristly kind 
 He thus began, benevolent of mind: 240 
 
 “What guest is he, of such majestic air? 
 
 His lineage and paternal clime declare: 
 
 Dim through th’ eclipse of fate, the rays divine 
 Of sovereign state with faded splendour shine. 
 
 If monarchs by the gods are plunged in wo, ' 
 
 To what abyss are we foredoom’d to go!” 
 
 Then affable he thus the chief address’d. 
 
 While with pathetic warmth his hand he press’d. 
 
 “Stranger, may fate a milder aspect show. 
 
 And spin thy future with a whiter clue! 250 
 
 O Jove! for ever deaf to human cries; 
 
 The tyrant, not the father of the skies! 
 
 Unpiteous of the race thy will began! 
 
 The fool of fate, thy manufacture, man, 
 
 15 W 
 
338 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 With penury, contempt, repulse, and care, 
 
 The galling load of life is doom’d to bear. 
 Ulysses, from his state a wanderer still, 
 
 Upbraids thy power, thy wisdom., or thy will! 
 Oh, monarch ever dear!—Oh, man of wo 1 
 Fresh flow my tears, and shall for ever flow! 
 Like thee, poor stranger-guest, denied his home! 
 Like thee, in rags obscene, decreed to roam! 
 
 Or, haply, perish’d on some distant coast. 
 
 In Stygian gloom he glides, a pensive ghost! 
 
 Oh, grateful for the good his bounty gave, 
 
 I’ll grieve till sorrow sink me to the grave! 
 
 His kind protecting hand my youth preferr’d, 
 The regent of his Cephallenian herd: 
 
 With vast increase beneath my care it spreads; 
 
 A stately breed! and blackens far the meads. 270 
 
 Constrain’d, the choicest beeves I thence import 
 To cram these cormorants that crowd his court; 
 
 Who in partition seek his realm to share; 
 
 Nor human right, nor wrath divine revere. 
 
 Since here resolved oppressive these reside. 
 
 Contending doubts my anxious heart divide; 
 
 Now to some foreign clime inclined to fly. 
 
 And with the royal herd protection buy: 
 
 Then, happier thoughts return the nodding scale. 
 
 Light mounts despair, alternate hopes prevail; 280 
 
 In opening prospects of ideal joy, 
 
 My king returns; the proud usurpers die.” 
 
 To whom the chief: “In thy capacious mind 
 Since daring zeal with cool debate is join’d; 
 
 Attend a deed already ripe in fate: 
 
 Attest, oh Jove! the truth I now relate! 
 
 This sacred truth attest, each genial power. 
 
 Who bless the board, and guard this friendly bower! 
 Before thou quit the dome (nor long delay) 
 
 Thy wish produced in act, with pleased survey 290 
 Thy wondering eyes shall view; his rightful reign. 
 
 By arms avowed, Ulysses shall regain. 
 
 And to the shades devote the suitor-train.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 339 
 
 “Oh, Jove supreme!” the raptured swain replies, 
 
 “With deeds consummate soon the promised joys! 
 
 These aged nerves, with new-born vigour strung. 
 
 In that bless’d cause should emulate the young.” 
 
 Assents Eum£eus to the prayer address’d; 
 
 And equal ardours fire his loyal breast. 
 
 Meantime, the- suitor’s urge the prince’s fate, 300 
 
 And deathful arts employ the dire debate; 
 
 When, in his airy tour, the bird of Jove 
 Truss’d with his sinewy pounce a trembling dove: 
 Sinister to their hope! This omen eyed 
 Amphinomus, who thus presaging cried: 
 
 “The gods from force and fraud the prince defend: 
 
 O peers! the sanguinary scheme suspend; 
 
 Your future thought let sable fate employ; 
 
 And give the present hour to genial joy.” 
 
 From council straight th’ assenting peerage ceased, 310 
 And in the dome prepared the genial feast. 
 
 Disrobed, their vests apart in order lay, 
 
 Then all with speed succinct the victims slay; 
 
 With sheep and shaggy goats the porkers bled. 
 
 And the proud steer was on the marble spread. 
 
 With fire prepared, they deal the morsels round. 
 
 Wine, rosy-bright, the brimming goblets crown’d. 
 
 By sage Eumseus borne; the purple tide 
 Melanthius from an ample jar supplied: 
 
 High canisters of bread Philetius placed; 320 
 
 And eager all devour the rich repast. 
 
 Disposed apart, Ulysses shares the treat; 
 
 A trivet-table, and ignobler seat, 
 
 The prince appoints; but to his sire assigns 
 The tasteful inwards, and nectareous wines. 
 
 “Partake, my guest,” he cried, “without control 
 The social feast, and drain the cheering bowl: 
 
 Dread not the railer’s laugh, nor ruffian’s rage; 
 
 No vulgar roof protects thy honour’d age; 
 
 This dome a refuge to thy wrongs shall be. 
 
 From my great sire too soon devolved to me! 
 
 330 
 
340 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 ' 1 
 
 r:' 
 
 Your violence and scorn, ye suitors, cease, ^ 
 
 Lest arms avenge the violated peace.” 
 
 A'wed by the prince, so haughty, brave, and young, 
 
 Rage gna'w’d the lip, amazement chain’d the tongue. 
 
 “Be patient, peers!” at length Antinous cries; 
 
 “The threats of vain, imperious youth despise: 
 
 Would Jove permit the meditated blow, 
 
 That stream of eloquence should* cease to flow.” 
 
 Without reply vouchsafed, Antinous ceased. 340 
 
 Meanwhile, the pomp of festival increased: 
 
 By heralds rank’d, in marshal’d order move 
 The city-tribes, to pleased Apollo’s grove; 
 
 Beneath the verdure of which awful shade. 
 
 The lunar hecatomb they grateful laid; | 
 
 Partook the sacred feast, and ritual honours paid. |! 
 
 But the rich banquet, in the dome prepared, 
 
 (An humble sideboard set,) Ulysses shared. ^ 
 
 Observant of the prince’s high behest. 
 
 His menial train attend the stranger-guest; 350 
 
 Whom Pallas with unpardoning fury fired, ; 
 
 By lordly pride and keen reproach inspired. 
 
 A Samian peer, more studious than the rest 
 Of vice, who teem’d with many a dead-born jest, 
 
 And urged for title to a consort-queen. 
 
 Unnumber’d acres, arable and green, 
 
 (Ctesippus named;) this lord Ulysses eyed. 
 
 And thus burst out th’ imposthumate with pride: 
 
 “ The sentence I propose, ye peers, attend: 
 
 Since due regard must wait the prince’s friend, 360 
 
 Let each a token of esteem bestow: 
 
 This gift acquits the dear respect I owe; 
 
 With which he nobly may discharge his seat. 
 
 And pay the menials for the master’s treat.” 
 
 He said; and of the steer before him placed. 
 
 That sinewy fragment at Ulysses cast 
 Where to the pastern-bone, by nerves combined, 
 
 The well-horned foot indissolubly join’d; 
 
 Which whizzing high, the wall unseemly sign’d. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 341 
 
 •s 
 
 The chief indignant grins a ghastly smile; 370 
 
 Revenge and scorn within his bosom boil; 
 
 When thus the prince with pious rage inflamed: 
 
 “Had not th’ inglorious wound thy malice aim’d 
 Fall’n guiltless of the mark, my certain spear 
 Had made thee buy the brutal triumph dear: 
 
 Nor should thy sire a queen his daughter boast; 
 
 The suitor now had vanish’d in a ghost: 
 
 No more, ye lewd compeers, with lawless power 
 Invade my dome, my herds and flocks devour; 
 
 For genuine worth, of age mature to know, 380 
 
 My grape shall redden, and my harvest grow. 
 
 Or, if each other’s wrongs ye still support. 
 
 With rapes and riot to profane my court. 
 
 What single arm with numbers can contend? 
 
 On me let all your lifted swords descend. 
 
 And with my life such vile dishonours end.” 
 
 A long cessation of discourse ensued. 
 
 By gentle Agelaiis thus renew’d: 
 
 “ A just reproof, ye peers! your rage restrain 
 From the protected guest and menial train: 390 
 
 And, prince! to stop the source of future ill. 
 
 Assent yourself, and gain the royal will. 
 
 While hope prevail’d to see your sire restored. 
 
 Of right the queen refused a second lord: 
 
 But who so void of faith, so blind to fate. 
 
 To think he still survives to claim the state? 
 
 Now press the sovereign dame with warm desire 
 To wed, as wealth or worth her choice inspire: 
 
 The lord selected for the nuptial joys. 
 
 Far hence will lead the long-contested prize: 400 
 
 While in paternal pomp, with plenty bless’d, 
 
 You reign, of this imperial dome possess’d.” 
 
 Sage and serene Telemachus replies: 
 
 “By him, at whose behest the thunder flies. 
 
 And by the name on earth I most revere, 
 
 By great Ulysses and his woes, I swear! 
 
 (Who never must review his dear domain; 
 
 Enroll’d, perhaps, in Pluto’s dreary train,) 
 
342 
 
 TPIE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 
 
 Whene’er her choice the royal dame avows, 
 
 My bridal-gifts shall load the future spouse; 
 
 But from this dome my parent-queen to chase, 
 
 From me, ye gods! avert such dire disgrace. 
 
 But Pallas clouds with intellectual gloom 
 The suitors’ souls, insensate of their doom V 
 A mirthful phrensy seized the fated crowd; 
 
 The roofs resound with causeless laughter loud: 
 Floating in gore, portentous to survey, 
 
 In each discolour’d vase the viands lay: 
 
 Then down each cheek the tears spontaneous flow. 
 And sudden sighs precede approaching wo. 
 
 In vision rapt, the Hyperesian seer* 
 
 Uprose, and thus divined the vengeance near: 
 
 “Oh, race to death devote! with Stygian shade 
 Each destined peer impending fates invade: 
 
 With tears your wan, distorted cheeks are drown d; 
 With sanguine drops the walls are rubied round: 
 Thick swarms the spacious hall with howling ghosts. 
 To people Orcus, and the burning coasts! 
 
 Nor gives the sun his golden orb to roll. 
 
 But universal night usurps the pole!” 
 
 Yet warn’d in vain, with laughter loud elate. 
 
 The peers reproach the sure divine of Fate: 
 
 And thus Eurymachus: “The dotard’s mind 
 To every sense is lost, to reason blind: 
 
 Swift from the dome conduct the slave away: 
 
 Let him in open air behold the day. 
 
 “Tax not,” the Heaven-illumined seer rejoin’d, 
 “Of rage, or folly, my prophetic mind. 
 
 No clouds of error dim th’ ethereal rays. 
 
 Her equal power each faithful sense obeys. 
 Unguided hence my trembling steps I bend; 
 
 Far hence, before yon hovering deaths descend; 
 Lest the ripe harvest of revenge begun, 
 
 I share the doom ye suitors cannot shun.” 
 
 ♦ 
 
 410 
 
 420 
 
 430 
 
 440 
 
 * Theoclyraenus. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XX. 343 
 
 This said, to sage Piraeus sped the seer, 
 
 His honour’d host, a welcome inmate there. 
 
 O’er the protracted feast the suitors sit. 
 
 And aim to wound the prince with pointless wit: 
 
 Cries one, with scornful leer and mimic voice, 
 
 “Thy charity we praise, but not thy choice: 450 
 
 Why such profusion of indulgence shown 
 To this poor, timorous, toil-detesting drone? 
 
 That other feeds on planetary schemes. 
 
 And pays his host with hideous noon-day dreams. 
 
 But, prince! for once at least believe a friend. 
 
 To some Sicilian mart these courtiers send. 
 
 Where, if they yield their freight across the main. 
 
 Dear sell the slaves! demand no greater gain.” 
 
 Thus jovial they; but naught the prince replies: 
 
 Full on his sire he roll’d his ardent eyes; 460 
 
 Impatient straight to flesh his virgin-sword: 
 
 From the wise chief he waits the deathful word. 
 
 Nigh, in her bright alcove, the pensive queen 
 To see the circlet sate, of all unseen. 
 
 Sated at length they rise, and bid prepare 
 An eve-repast, with equal cost and care; 
 
 But vengeful Pallas, with preventing speed, 
 
 A feast proportion’d to their crimes decreed: 
 
 A feast of death! the feasters doom’d to bleed! 
 
BOOK XXI. 
 
 The Bending of Ulysse^ Bow; Omen from Jupiter. 
 
 • > 
 
 Argument. —Penelop^, to put an end to the solicitation of the suitors, pro¬ 
 poses to marry the person who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and 
 shoot through the ringlets. After their attempts have proved inefiectual, 
 Ulysses, taking Eumseus and Philetius apart, discovers himself to them; 
 then returning, desires leave to try his strength at the bow, which, though 
 refused with indignation by the suitors, Penelope and Telemachus cause 
 it to be delivered to his hands. He bends it immediately, and shoots 
 through all the rings. Jupiter at the same instant thunders from heaven ; 
 Ulysses accepts the omen, and gives a sign to Telemachus, who stands 
 ready armed at his side. 
 
 And Pallas now to raise the rivals’ fires, 
 
 With her own art Penelop4 inspires: 
 
 Who now can bend Ulysses’ bow, and wing 
 The well-aim’d arrow through the distant ring, 
 
 Shall end the strife, and win th’ imperial dame: 
 
 But discord and black death await the game. 
 
 The prudent queen the lofty stair ascends. 
 
 At distance due a virgin-train attends; 
 
 A brazen key she held, the handle turn’d, 
 
 With steel and polish’d elephant adorn’d: 10 
 
 Swift to the inmost room she bent her way, 
 
 Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay; 
 
 There shone high heap’d the labour’d brass and ore. 
 
 And there the bow which great Ulysses bore; 
 
 And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept 
 Those winged deaths that many a matron wept. 
 
 This gift, long since when Sparta’s shores he trod. 
 
 On young Ulysses Iphitus bestow’d: 
 
 Beneath Orsilochus’s roof they met; 
 
 One loss was private, one a public debt; 20 
 
 Meseena’s state from Ithaca detains 
 
 Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd swains; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 And to the youthful prince to urge the laws, 
 
 The king and elders trust their common cause. 
 
 But Iphitus, employ’d on other cares, 
 
 Search’d the wide country for his wandering mares. 
 And mules, the strongest of the labouring kind; 
 Hapless to search! more hapless still to find! 
 
 For journeying on to Hercules, at length 
 That lawless wretch, that man of brutal strength. 
 Deaf to Heaven’s voice, the social right transgress d 
 And for the beauteous mares destroy’d his guest: 
 
 He gave the bow; and on Ulysses’ part 
 Received a pointed sword, and missile dart: 
 
 Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore 
 Their first, last pledges; for they met no more. 
 
 The bow, bequeath’d by this unhappy hand, 
 
 Ulysses bore not from his native land; 
 
 Nor in the front of battle taught to bend. 
 
 But kept in dear memorial of his friend. 
 
 Now gently winding up the fair ascent. 
 
 By many an easy step the matron went; 
 
 Then o’er the pavements glides with grace divine; 
 (With polish’d oak the level pavements shine;) 
 
 The folding gates a dazzling light display’d. 
 
 With pomp of various architrave o’erlaid. 
 
 The bolt, obedient to the silken string. 
 
 Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring; 
 
 The wards respondent to the key turn round; 
 
 The bars fall back; the flying valves resound; 
 
 Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ling. 
 
 So roar’d the lock when it released the spring. 
 
 She moves majestic through the wealthy room. 
 Where treasured garments cast a rich perfume; 
 There from the column where aloft it hung. 
 Reach’d, in its splendid case, the bow unstrung; 
 Across her knees she laid the well-known bow. 
 And pensive sate, and tears began to flow. 
 
 To full satiety of grief she mourns, 
 
 Then silent to the joyous hall returns; 
 
 15 * 
 
346 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 To the proud suitors bears in pensive state 
 Th' unbended bow, and arrows wing’d with fate. 
 
 Behind, her train the polish’d coffer brings, 
 Which held th’ alternate brass and silver rings. 
 Full in the portal the chaste queen appears, . 
 
 And with her veil conceals the coming tears: 
 
 On either side awaits a virgin fair; 
 
 While thus the matron, with majestic air: 
 
 “Say you, whom these forbidden walls enclose. 
 For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows; 
 
 If these neglected, faded charms can move? 
 
 Or is it but a vain pretence, you love? 
 
 If I the prize, if me you seek to wife. 
 
 Hear the conditions, and commence the strife. 
 Who first Ulysses’ wondrous bow shall bend. 
 
 And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send, 
 Him will I follow, and forsake my home. 
 
 For him forsake this loved, this wealthy dome. 
 Long, long the scene of all my past delight. 
 
 And still to last, the vision of my night!” 
 
 Graceful she said, and bade Eumseus show 
 The rival peers the ringlets and the bow. 
 
 From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring. 
 Touch’d at the dear memorials of his king. 
 Philetius too relents, but secret shed 
 The tender drops. Antinous saw, and said: 
 
 “Hence to your fields, ye rustics! hence away, 
 Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day: 
 
 Nor to the royal heart recall in vain 
 The sad remembrance of a perish’d man. 
 
 Enough her precious tears already flow! 
 
 Or share the feast with due respect, or go 
 To weep abroad, and leave us to the bow: • 
 
 No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew 
 That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew. 
 
 I well remember (for I gazed him o’er 
 While yet a child) what majesty he bore! 
 
 And still (all infant as I was) retain 
 
 The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXL 
 
 He said; but in his soul fond joys arise, 
 
 And his proud hopes already win the prize. 
 
 To speed the flying shaft through every ring, 
 Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the king 
 Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the wing 1 
 Then thus Telemachus: “Some god, I find. 
 
 With pleasing phrensy has possess’d my mind; 
 When a loved mother threatens to depart. 
 
 Why with this ill-timed gladness leaps my heart? 
 Come then, ye suitors 1 and dispute a prize 
 Richer than all th’ Achaian state supplies, 
 
 Than all proud Argos, or Mycsena knows, 
 
 Than all our isles or continents enclose: 
 
 A woman matchless, and almost divine. 
 
 Fit for the praise of every tongue but mine. 
 
 No more excuses then, no more delay; 
 
 Haste to the trial—Lo 1 I lead the way. 
 
 I too may try, and if this arm can wing 
 The feather’d arrow through the destined ring. 
 
 Then if no happier knight the conquest boast, 
 
 I shall not sorrow for a mother lost: 
 
 But, bless’d in her, possess these arms alone. 
 
 Heir of my father’s strength, as well as throne.” 
 
 He spoke: then, rising, his broad sword unbound. 
 And cast his purple garment on the ground. 
 
 A trench he open’d; in a line he placed 
 The level axes, and the points made fast; 
 
 (His perfect skill the wondering gazers eyed. 
 
 The game as yet unseen, as yet untried.) 
 
 Then, with a manly pace, he took his stand; 
 
 And grasp’d the bow, and twang’d it in his hand. 
 Three times, with beating heart he made essay; 
 Three times, unequal to the task, gave way; 
 
 A modest boldness on his cheek appear’d: 
 
 And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he fear’d. 
 The fourth had drawn it. The great sire with joy 
 Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy. 
 
 His ardour straight th’ obedient prince suppress d. 
 And, artful, thus the suitor-train address’d: 
 
 347 
 
 100 
 
 no 
 
 120 
 
 130 
 
348 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 “Oh, lay the cause on youth yet immature! 
 
 (For Heaven forbid such weakness should endure!) 140 
 How shall this arm, unequal to the bow. 
 
 Retort an insult, or repel a foe? 
 
 But you! whom Heaven with better nerves has bless’d. 
 Accept the trial, and the prize contest.” 
 
 He cast the bow before him, and apart 
 Against the polish’d quiver propp’d the dart. 
 
 Resuming then his seat, Epitheus’ son. 
 
 The bold Antinous, to the rest begun: 
 
 “From where the goblet first begins to flow. 
 
 From right to left in order take the bow, 
 
 And prove your several strengths.”—The princes heard. 
 And first Liodes, blameless priest, appear’d: ■ 151 
 
 The eldest born of CEnops’ noble race. 
 
 Who next the goblet held his holy place: 
 
 He, only he, of all the suitor-throng. 
 
 Their deeds detested, and abjured the wrong. 
 
 With tender hands the stubborn horn he strains. 
 
 The stubborn horn resisted all his pains! 
 
 Already in despair he gives it o’er: 
 
 “Take it who will,” he cries, “I strive no more. 160 
 What numerous deaths attend this fatal bow! 
 
 What souls and spirits shall it send below! 
 
 Better, indeed, to die, and fairly give 
 Nature her debt, than disappointed live. 
 
 With each new sun to some new hope a prey. 
 
 Yet still to-morrow falser than to-day. 
 
 How long in vain Penelop4 we sought! 
 
 This bow shall ease us of that idle thought. 
 
 And send us with some humbler wife to live. 
 
 Whom gold shall gain, or destiny shall give.” 170 
 
 Thus speaking, on the floor the bow he placed 
 (With rich inlay the various floor was graced); 
 
 At distance far the feather’d shaft he throws. 
 
 And to the seat returns from whence he rose. 
 
 To him Antinous thus with fury said: 
 
 “What words ill-omen’d from thy lips have fled? 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 349 
 
 Thy coward function ever is in fear; 
 
 Those arms are dreadful which thou canst not bear. 
 
 Why should this bow be fatal to the brave ? 
 
 Because the priest is born a peaceful slave. 180 
 
 Mark then what others can.”—He ended there, 
 
 And bade Melanthius a vast pile prepare; 
 
 He gives it instant flame, then fast beside 
 Spreads o’er an ample board a bullock’s hide. 
 
 With melted lard they soak the weapon o’er. 
 
 Chafe every knot, and supple every pore. 
 
 Vain all their art, and all their strength as vain; 
 
 The bow inflexible resists their pain. 
 
 The force of great Eurymachus alone 
 And bold Antinous, yet.untried, unknown: 
 
 Those only now remain’d; but those confess’d 190 
 
 Of all the train the mightiest and the best. 
 
 Then from the hall, and from the noisy crew. 
 
 The masters of the herd and flock withdrew. 
 
 The king observes them, he the hall forsakes. 
 
 And, pass’d the limits of the court, o’ertakes. 
 
 Then thus with accent mild Ulysses spoke: 
 
 “Ye faithful guardians of the herd and flock! 
 
 Shall I the secret of my breast conceal. 
 
 Or (as my soul now dictates) shall I tell? 200 
 
 Say, should some favouring god restore again 
 The lost Ulysses to his native reign. 
 
 How beat your hearts? what aid would you afford 
 To the proud suitors, or your ancient lord?” 
 
 Philetius thus: “Oh, were my word not vain! 
 
 Would mighty Jove restore that man again! 
 
 These aged sinews, with new vigour strung, 
 
 In his bless’d cause should emulate the young.” 
 
 With equal vows Eumseus too implored 
 Each power above, with wishes for his lord. 210 
 
 He saw their secret souls, and thus began: 
 
 “Those vows the gods accord: Behold the man! 
 
 Your own Ulysses! twice ten years detain’d 
 By woes and wanderings from this hapless land: 
 
350 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 At length he comes: but comes despised, unknown, 
 
 And finding faithful you, and you alone. 
 
 All else have cast him from their very thought, 
 
 Ev’n in their wishes and their prayers forgot! 
 
 Hear then, my friends: If Jove this arm succeed. 
 
 And give yon impious revellers to bleed. 
 
 My care shall be to bless your future Jives 
 With large possessions and with faithful wives; 
 
 Fast by my palace shall your domes ascend, 
 
 And each on young Telemachus attend. 
 
 And each be call’d his brother and my friend. 
 
 To give you firmer faith, now trust your eye; 
 
 Lo! the broad scar indented on my thigh. 
 
 When with Autolycus’s sons, of yore. 
 
 On Parnass’ top I chased the tusky boar.” 
 
 His ragged vest then drawn aside disclosed 
 The sign conspicuous, and the scar exposed; 
 
 Eager they view’d; with joy they stood amazed; 
 
 With tearful eyes o’er all their master gazed; 
 
 Around his neck their longing arms they cast. 
 
 His head, his shoulders, and his knees embraced: 
 
 Tears follow tears; no word was in their power; 
 
 In solemn silence fell the kindly shower. 
 
 The king too weeps, the king too grasps their hands. 
 
 And moveless as a marble fountain stands. 
 
 Thus had their joy wept down the setting sun, 240 
 But first the wise man ceased, and thus begun: 
 
 “Enough: on other cares your thought employ. 
 
 For danger waits on all untimely joy. 
 
 Full many foes, and fierce, observe us near; 
 
 Some may betray, and yonder walls may hear. 
 
 Reenter then, not all at once, but stay 
 Some moments you, and let me lead the way. 
 
 To me, neglected as I am, I know 
 The haughty suitors will deny the bow; 
 
 But thou, Eumseus, as ’tis borne away, 250 
 
 Thy master’s weapon to his hand convey. 
 
 At every portal let some matron wait. 
 
 And each lock fast the well-compacted gate: 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 351 
 
 Close let them keep whate’er invades their ear; 
 
 Though arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear. 
 
 To thy strict charge, Philetius, we consign 
 
 The court’s main gate: to guard that pass be thine.” 
 
 This said, he first return’d: the faithful swains 
 At distance follow, as their king ordains. 
 
 Before the flame Eurymachus now stands, 260 
 
 And turns the bow, and chafes it with his hands: 
 
 Still the tough bow unmoved. The lofty man 
 Sigh’d from his mighty soul, and thus began: 
 
 “ I mourn the common cause; for, oh, my friends! 
 
 On me, on all, what grief, what shame attends! 
 
 Not the lost nuptials can affect me more, 
 
 (For Greece has beauteous dames on every shore;) 
 
 But baffled thus! confess’d so far below 
 Ulysses’ strength, as not to bend his bow! 
 
 How shall all ages our attempts deride! 270 
 
 Our weakness scorn!”—Antinous thus replied: 
 
 “Not so, Eurymachus: that no man draws 
 The wondrous bow, attend another cause. 
 
 Sacred to Phcebus is the solemn day. 
 
 Which thoughtless we in games would waste away; 
 
 Till the next dawn this ill-timed strife forego. 
 
 And here leave fixed the ringlets in a row. 
 
 Now bid the sewer approach, and let us join 
 In due libations, and in rites divine. 
 
 So end our night: before the day shall spring, 280 
 
 The choicest offerings let Melanthius bring; 
 
 Let then to Phoebus’ name the fatted thighs 
 Feed the rich smokes, high curling to the skies. 
 
 So shall the patron of these arts bestow 
 (For his the gift) the skill to bend the bow.” 
 
 They heard well pleased: the ready heralds bring 
 The cleansing waters from the limpid spring: 
 
 The goblet high with rosy wine they crown’d, 
 
 In order circling to the peers around. 
 
 That rite complete, up rose the thoughtful man, 290 
 And thus his meditated scheme began: 
 
352 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 “If what I ask, your noble minds approve, 
 
 Ye peers and rivals in the royal love! 
 
 Chief, if it hurt not great Antinous’ ear, 
 
 (Whose sage decision I with wonder hear,) 
 
 And if Eurymachus the motion please. 
 
 Give Heaven this day, and rest the bow in peace. 
 To-morrow let your arms dispute the prize. 
 
 And take it he, the favour’d of the skies! 
 
 But, since till then this trial you delay. 
 
 Trust it one moment to my hands to-day: 
 
 Fain would I prove, before your judging eyes. 
 What once I was, whom wretched you despise; 
 
 If yet this arm its ancient force retain; 
 
 Or if my woes (a long continued train) 
 
 And wants and insults, make me less than man.” 
 
 Rage flash’d in lightning from the suitors’ eyes, 
 Yet mix’d with terror at the bold emprise. 
 
 Antinous then: “Oh, miserable guest! 
 
 Is common sense quite banish’d from thy breast? 
 Sufficed it not, within the palace placed. 
 
 To sit distinguish’d with our presence graced. 
 Admitted here with princes to confer, 
 
 A man unknown, a needy wanderer? 
 
 To copious wine this insolence we owe. 
 
 And much thy betters wine can overthrow: 
 
 The great Eurytion, when this phrensy stung, 
 Pirithoiis’ roofs with frantic riot rung; 
 
 Boundless the Centaur raged; till one and all 
 The heroes rose, and dragg’d him from the hall; 
 His nose they shorten’d, and his ears they slit. 
 And sent him sober’d home with better wit. 
 Hence with long war the double race was cursed. 
 Fatal to all, but to th’ aggressor first. 
 
 Such fate I prophesy our guest attends. 
 
 If here this interdicted bow he bends: 
 
 Nor shall these walls such insolence contain; 
 
 The first fair wind transports him o’er the main. 
 Where Echetus to death the guilty brings 
 (The worst of mortals, ev’n the worst of kings). 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 353 
 
 Better than that, if thou approve our cheer; 
 
 Cease the mad strife, and share our bounty here.” 
 
 To this the queen her just dislike express’d: 
 
 “’Tis impious, prince, to harm the stranger-guest, 
 
 Base to insult who bears a suppliant’s name. 
 
 And some r-espect Telemachus may claim. 
 
 What if th’ immortals on the man bestow 
 Sufficient strength to draw the mighty bow? 
 
 Shall I, a queen, by vival chiefs adored. 
 
 Accept a wandering stranger for my lord? 340 
 
 A hope so idle never touch’d his brain: 
 
 Then ease your bosoms of a fear so vain. 
 
 Far be he banish’d from this stately scene 
 
 Who wrongs his princess with a thought so mean.” 
 
 “O fair! and wisest of so fair a kind!” 
 
 Respectful thus Eurymachus rejoin’d, 
 
 “Moved by no weak surmise, but sense of shame. 
 
 We dread the all-arraigning voice of Fame: 
 
 We dread the censure of the meanest slave. 
 
 The weakest woman: all can wrong the brave: 350 
 
 ‘Behold what wretches to the bed pretend 
 
 Of that brave chief, whose bow they could not bend! 
 
 In came a beggar of the strolling crew. 
 
 And did what all those princes could not do.’ 
 
 Thus will the common voice our deed defame. 
 
 And thus posterity upbraid our name.” 
 
 To whom the queen: “If fame engage your view's, 
 Forbear those acts which infamy pursues: 
 
 Wrong and oppression no renown can raise; 
 
 Know, friend! that virtue is the path to praise. 360 
 
 The stature of our guest, his port, his face. 
 
 Speak him descended from no vulgar race. 
 
 To him the bow, as he desires, convey; 
 
 And to his hand, if Phoebus give the day, 
 
 I Hence, to reward his merit, he shall bear 
 I A two-edged faulchion, and a shining spear. 
 
 Embroider’d sandals, a rich cloak and vest, 
 
 * And safe conveyance to his port of rest.” 
 
 X 
 
354 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 “Oh, royal mother! ever-honour’d name! 
 
 Permit me,” cries Telemachus, “to claim 370 
 
 A son’s just right. No Grecian prince but I 
 Has power this bow to grant, or to deny. 
 
 Of all that Ithaca’s rough hills contain. 
 
 And all wide Elis’ courser-breeding-plain. 
 
 To me alone my father’s arms descend; 
 
 And mine alone they are, to give or lend. 
 
 Retire, oh queen! thy household task resume. 
 
 Tend, with thy maids, the labours of the loom; 
 
 The bow, the darts, and arms of chivalry. 
 
 These cares to man belong, and most to me.” 380 
 
 Mature beyond his years, the queen admired 
 His sage reply, and with her train retired; 
 
 There in her chamber as she sate apart, 
 
 Revolved his words, and placed them in her heart. 
 
 On her Ulysses then she fix’d her soul; 
 
 Down her fair cheeks the tears abundant roll, 
 
 Till gentle Pallas, piteous of her cries. 
 
 In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes. 
 
 Now through the press the bow Eummus bore. 
 
 And all was riot, noise and wild uproar. 390 
 
 “Hold! lawless rustic! whither wilt thou go? 
 
 To whom, insensate, dost thou bear the bow? 
 
 Exiled from this to some sequester’d den. 
 
 Far from the sweet society of men, 
 
 To thy own dogs a prey thou shalt be made; 
 
 If Heaven and Phoebus lend the suitors aid!” 
 
 Thus they. Aghast he laid the weapon down. 
 
 But bold Telemachus thus urged him on; 
 
 “Proceed, false slave! and slight their empty words; 
 What! hopes the fool to please so many lords? 400 
 
 Young as I am, thy prince’s vengeful hand. 
 
 Stretch’d forth in wrath, shall drive thee from the land. 
 Oh! could the vigour of this arm as well 
 Th’ oppressive suitors from my walls expel! 
 
 Then what a shoal of lawless men should go 
 To fill with tumult the dark courts below!” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXI. 
 
 355 
 
 The suitors with a scornful smile survey 
 The youth, indulging in the genial day. 
 
 Eumseus, thus encouraged, hastes to bring 
 The strifeful bow, and gives it to the king. 
 
 Old Euryclea calling then aside, 
 
 “Hear what Telemachus enjoins,’ he cried; 
 
 “At every portal let some matron wait, 
 
 And each lock fast the well-compacted gate; 
 
 And if unusual sounds invade their ear, 
 
 If arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear, 
 
 Let none to call, or issue forth presume, 
 
 But close attend the labours of the loom.’’ 
 
 Her prompt obedience on his order waits; 
 
 Closed in an instant were the palace-ptes. 
 
 In the same moment forth Philetius flies. 
 
 Secures the court, and with a cable ties 
 The utmost gate, (the cable, strongly wrought 
 Of Byblos’ reed, a ship from Egypt brought;) 
 
 Then unperceived and silent at the boaid 
 His seat he takes; his eyes upon his lord. 
 
 And now his well-known bow the mastei boie. 
 Turn’d on all sides, and view’d it o’er and o’er; 
 
 Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong. 
 
 Its owner absent, and untried so long. 
 
 While some, deriding: “How he turns the bow! 
 Some other like it sure the man must know. 
 
 Or else would copy; or in bows he deals; 
 
 Perhaps he makes them, or perhaps he steals.” 
 
 “Heaven to this wretch,” another cried, “be kind! 
 And bless, in all to which he stands inclined, 
 
 With such good fortune as he now shall find.” 
 
 Heedless he heard them: but disdain’d reply, 
 
 The bow perusing with exactest eye. 
 
 Then, as some heavenly minstrel, taught to sing 
 High notes responsive to the trembling string. 
 
 To some new strain when he adapts the lyi e. 
 
 Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire. 
 
 Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro,. 
 
 So the great master drew the mighty bow: 
 
 410 
 
 420 
 
 430 
 
 440 
 
356 the odyssey, BOOK XXI. 
 
 And drew with ease. One hand aloft display’d 
 The bending horns, and one the string essay’d. 
 
 From his essaying hand the string let fly, 
 
 Twang’d short and sharp, like the shrill swallow’s cry. 
 
 A general horror ran through all the race, 450 
 
 Sunk was each heart, and pale was every face. 
 
 Signs from above ensued: th’ unfolding sky 
 In lightning burst; Jove thunder’d from on high. 
 
 Fired at the call of heaven’s Almighty Lord, 
 
 He snatch’d the shaft that glitter’d on the board: 
 
 (Fast by, the rest lay sleeping in the sheath. 
 
 But soon to fly the messengers of death.) 
 
 Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew. 
 
 Through every ringlet levelling his view; 
 
 Then notch’d the shaft, released,.and gave it wing; 460 
 The whizzing arrow vanish’d from the string. 
 
 Sung on direct, and threaded every ring. 
 
 The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds; 
 
 Pierced through and through, the solid gate resounds. 
 Then to the prince: “Nor have I wrought thee shame: 
 Nor err’d this hand unfaithful to its aim; 
 
 Nor proved the toil too hard; nor have I lost 
 That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast. ^ 
 
 Ill I deserved these haughty peers’ disdain; 
 
 Now let them comfort their dejected train, 470 
 
 In sweet repast the present hour employ. 
 
 Nor wait till evening for the genial joy: 
 
 Then to the lute’s soft voice prolong the night; 
 
 Music, the banquet’s most refined delight.” 
 
 He said, then gave a nod; and at the word 
 Telemachus girds on his shining sword. 
 
 Fast by his father’s side he takes his stand: 
 
 The beamy javelin lightens in his hand. 
 
BOOK XXII. 
 
 The Death of the Suitors, and the Recognition of Ulysses. 
 
 Argument —Ulysses begins the slaughter of the suitors by the death of 
 Antmoiis. He declares himself, and lets fly his arrows at the rest. 
 Telemachus assists, and brings arms for his father, himself, Eumseus, and 
 Philetius. Melanthius does the same for the wooers. Minerva encour- 
 a°-es Ulysses in the shape of Mentor. The suitors are all slain, only 
 Medon and Phemius are spared. Melanthius and the unfaithful servants 
 are executed. The rest acknowledge their master with all demonstrations 
 
 of joy. 
 
 Then fierce the hero o’er the threshold strode; 
 
 Stripp’d of his rags, he blazed out like a god. 
 
 Full in their face the lifted bow he bore, 
 
 And quiver’d deaths, a formidable store: 
 
 Before his feet the rattling shower he threw. 
 
 And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew: 
 
 “One venturous game this hand has won to-day. 
 Another, princes! yet remains to play; 
 
 Another mark our arrow must attain. 
 
 Phoebus, assist! nor be the labour vain.” ^ 10 
 
 Swift as the word, the parting arrow sings. 
 
 And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings: 
 
 Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul! 
 
 High in his hands he rear’d the golden bowl! 
 
 Ev’n then to drain it lengthen’d out*his breath; 
 
 Changed to the deep, the bitter draught of death: 
 
 For Fate who fear’d amidst a feastful band? 
 
 And Fate to numbers, by a single hand? 
 
 Full through his throat Ulysses’ weapon pass’d. 
 
 And pierced the neck. He falls, and breathes his last. 20 
 The tumbling goblet the wide floor o’erflows, 
 
 A stream of gore burst spouting from his nose; 
 
 Grim in convulsive agonies he sprawls: 
 
 Before him spurn’d, the loaded table falls. 
 
358 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 And spreads the pavement with a mingled flood 
 Of floating meats, and wine, and human blood. ' 
 Amazed, confounded, as they saw him fall, '' 
 
 Uprose the throng tumultuous round the hall; 
 
 O’er all the dome they cast a haggard eye, 
 
 Each look’d for arms: in vain; no arms were nigh. 30 
 “Aim’st thou at princes?” all amazed they said; 
 
 “Thy last of games unhappy hast thou play’d; 
 
 Thy erring shaft has made our bravest bleed. 
 
 And death, unlpcky guest, attends thy deed. 
 
 Vultures shall tear thee.”—Thus incensed they spoke, 
 While each to chance ascribed the v/ondrous stroke. 
 
 Blind as they were: for death even now invades 
 His destined prey, and wraps them all in shades. 
 
 Then grimly frowning, with a dreadful look 
 That wither’d all their hearts, Ulysses spoke: 40 
 
 “ Dogs, ye have had your day! ye fear’d no more 
 Ulysses vengeful from the Trojan shore; 
 
 While, to your lust and spoil a guardless prey, 
 
 Our house, our wealth, our helpless handmaids lay: 
 
 Not so content, with bolder phrensy fired. 
 
 Even to our bed presumptuous you aspired: 
 
 Laws, or divine or human fail’d, to move. 
 
 Or shame of men, or dread of gods above; 
 
 Heedless alike of infamy or praise. 
 
 Or Fame’s eternal voice in future days: 50 
 
 The hour of vengeance, wretches, now is come. 
 Impending fate is yours, and instant doom.” 
 
 Thus dreadful he. Confused the suitors stood, 
 
 From their pale cheeks recedes the flying blood: 
 Trembling they sought their guilty heads to hide. 
 
 Alone the bold Eurymachus replied: 
 
 “If, as thy words import,” he thus began, 
 
 “Ulysses lives, and thou the mighty man. 
 
 Great are thy wrongs, and much hast thou sustain’d 
 In thy spoil’d palace, and exhausted land; 
 
 The cause and author of those guilty deeds, 
 
 Lo! at thy feet, unjust Antinoiis, bleeds. 
 
 60 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 359 
 
 Not love, but wild ambition, was his guide; 
 
 To slay thy son, thy kingdom to divide. 
 
 These were his aims; but juster Jove denied. 
 
 Since cold in death th’ offender lies, oh! spare 
 Thy suppliant people, and receive their prayer! 
 Brass, gold, and treasures, shall the spoil defray. 
 Two hundred oxen every prince shall pay; 
 
 The waste of years refunded in a day. 
 
 Till then thy wrath is just.”-—Ulysses burn’d 
 With high disdain, and sternly thus return’d: 
 
 “All, all the treasures that enrich’d our throne 
 Before your rapines, join’d with all your own. 
 
 If offer’d, vainly should for mercy call; 
 
 ’Tis you that offer, and I scorn them all; 
 
 Your blood is my demand, your lives the prize. 
 
 Till pale as yonder wretch each suitor lies. 
 
 Hence with those coward terms; or fight or fly; 
 This choice is left you, to resist or die: 
 
 And die I trust ye shall.”—He sternly spoke: 
 
 With guilty fears the pale assembly shook. 
 
 Alone Eurymachus exhorts the train: 
 
 “Yon archer, comrades, will not shoot in vain; 
 But from the threshold shall his darts be sped 
 (Whoe’er he be) till every prince lie dead? 
 
 Be mindful of yourselves, draw forth your swords. 
 And to his shafts obtend these ample boards 
 (So need compels). Then, all united, strive 
 Tiie bold invader from his post to drive; 
 
 The city, roused, shall to our rescue haste. 
 
 And this mad archer soon have shot his last.” 
 
 Swift as he spoke, he drew his traitor sword. 
 And like a lion rush’d against his lord: ^ 
 
 The wary chief the rushing foe repress’d. 
 
 Who met the point, and forced it in his breast: 
 
 His falling hand deserts the lifted sword. 
 
 And prone he falls, extended o’er the board 1 
 Before him wide, in mix’d effusion, roll 
 Th’ untasted viands, and the jovial bowl. 
 
 70 
 
 80 
 
 90 
 
 100 
 
360 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 Full through his liver pass’d the mortal wound, 
 
 With dying rage his forehead beats the ground; 
 
 He spurn’d the seat with fury as he fell, 
 
 And the fierce soul to darkness dived, and hell. 
 
 Next bold Amphinomus his arm extends 
 To force the pass; the godlike man defends. 
 
 Thy spear, Telemachus, prevents th’ attack. 
 
 The brazen weapon driving through 4iis back. 
 
 Thence through his breast its bloody passage tore. 
 
 Flat falls he thundering on the marble floor, 110 
 
 And his crush’d forehead marks the stone with gore. 
 
 He left his javelin in the dead, for fear 
 The long encumbrance of the weighty spear 
 To the fierce foe advantage might afford. 
 
 To rush between, and use the shorten’d sword. 
 
 With speedy ardour to his sire he flies. 
 
 And, “ Arm, great father! arm!” in haste he cries: 
 
 “Lo, hence I run for other arms to wield. 
 
 For missile javelins, and for helm and shield; 
 
 Fast by our side let either faithful swain 120 
 
 In arms attend us, and their part sustain.” 
 
 “Haste and return,” Ulysses made reply. 
 
 While yet th’ auxiliar shafts this hand supply; 
 
 Lest thus alone, encounter’d by a host. 
 
 Driven from the gate, th’ important pass be lost.” 
 
 With speed Telemachus obeys, and flies 
 Where piled in heaps the royal armour lies; 
 
 Four brazen helmets, eight refulgent spears. 
 
 And four broad bucklers to his sire he bears: 
 
 At once in brazen panoply they shone, 130 
 
 At once each servant braced his armour on; 
 
 Around the king a faithful guard they stand. 
 
 While yet each shaft flew deathful from his hand: 
 
 Chief after chief expired at every wound. 
 
 And swell’d the bleeding mountain on the ground. 
 
 Soon as his store of flying fates was spent. 
 
 Against the wall he set the bow unbent; 
 
 And now his shoulders bear the massy shield. 
 
 And now his hands two beamy javelins wield: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 3G1 
 
 He frowns beneath his nodding plume, that play’d 140 
 O’er the high crest, and cast a dreadful shade. 
 
 There stood a window near, whence looking down 
 From o’er the porch appeared the subject town. 
 
 A double strength of valves secured the place, 
 
 A high and narrow, but the only pass: 
 
 The cautious king, with all-preventing care, 
 
 To guard that outlet, placed Eummus there: 
 
 When Agelaiis thus: “Has none the sense 
 To mount yon window, and alarm from thence 
 The neighbour town? the town shall force the door, 150 
 And this bold archer soon shall shoot no more.” 
 
 Melanthius then: “That outlet to the gate 
 So near adjoins, that one may guard the strait. 
 
 But other methods of defence remain; 
 
 Myself with arms can furnish all the train; 
 
 Stores from the royal magazine I bring. 
 
 And their own darts shall pierce the prince and king.” 
 
 He said; ai\d mounting up the lofty stairs. 
 
 Twelve shields, twelve lances, and twelve helmets bears: 
 All arm, and sudden round the hall appears 160 
 
 A blaze of bucklers, and a wood of spears. 
 
 The hero stands oppress’d with mighty wo; 
 
 On every side he sees the labour grow: 
 
 “Oh, cursed event! and, oh, unlook’d-for aid! 
 
 Melanthius or the women have betray’d— 
 
 Oh, my dear son!”—The father, with a sigh. 
 
 Then ceased; the filial virtue made reply: 
 
 “Falsehood is folly, and ’tis just to own 
 The fault committed: this was mine alone; 
 
 My haste neglected yonder door to bar, 170 
 
 And hence the villain has supplied their war. 
 
 Run, good Eumssus, then, and (what before 
 I thoughtless err’d in) well secure that door: 
 
 Learn, if by female fraud this deed were done. 
 
 Or (as my thought misgives) by Dolius’ son.” 
 
 While yet they spoke, in quest of arms again 
 To the high chamber stole the faithless swain, 
 
 16 
 
i 
 
 362 the odyssey, BOOK XXII. 
 
 Not unobserved. Eumseus watchful eyed, 
 
 And thus address’d Ulysses near his side: 
 
 “The miscreant we suspected takes that way; ,180 
 Him, if this arm be powerful, shall I slay ? 
 
 Or drive him hither, to receive the meed. 
 
 From thy own hand, of this detested deed?” 
 
 “Not so,” replied Ulysses; “leave him there; 
 
 For us sufficient is another care; 
 
 Within the structure of this palace-wall 
 To keep enclosed his masters till they fall: 
 
 Go you, and seize the felon; backward bind 
 His arms and legs, and fix a plank behind; 
 
 On this his body by strong cords extend, 190 
 
 And on a column near the roof suspend: 
 
 So studied tortures his vile days shall end.” 
 
 The ready swains obey’d with joyful haste. 
 
 Behind the felon unperceived they pass’d. 
 
 As round the room in quest of arms he goes; 
 
 (The half-shut door conceal’d his lurking foes:) 
 
 One hand sustain’d a helm, and one the shield 
 Which old Laertes wont in youth to wield. 
 
 Cover’d with dust, with dryness chapp’d and worn. 
 
 The brass corroded, and the leather torn. 200 
 
 Thus laden, o’er the threshold as he stepp’d. 
 
 Fierce on the villain from each side they leap’d. 
 
 Back by the hair the trembling dastard drew, 
 
 And down reluctant on the pavement threw. 
 
 Active and pleased the zealous swains fulfil 
 At every point their master’s rigid will: 
 
 First, fast behind, his hands and feet they bound. 
 
 Then straiten’d cords involved his body round; 
 
 So drawn aloft, athwart the column tied. 
 
 The howling felon swung from side to side. 210 
 
 Eummus, scoffing, then with keen disdain: 
 
 “There pass thy pleasing night, oh gentle swain! 
 
 On that soft pillow, from that envied height. 
 
 First may’st thou see the springing dawn of light; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 363 
 
 So timely rise, when morning streaks the east, 
 
 To drive thy victims to the suitors’ feast.” 
 
 This said, they left him, tortured as he lay. 
 
 Secured the door, and hasty strode away: 
 
 Each, breathing death, resumed his dangerous post 
 Near great Ulysses; four against a host. 
 
 When, lo! descending to her hero’s aid, 
 
 Jove’s daughter, Pallas, war’s triumphant maid; 
 
 In Mentor’s friendly form she join’d his side: 
 
 Ulysses saw, and thus with transport cried: 
 
 “Come, ever welcome, and thy succour lendj 
 Oh, every sacred name in one! my friend! 
 
 Early we loved, and long our loves have grown: 
 Whate’er through life’s whole series I have done. 
 
 Or good, or grateful, now to mind recall. 
 
 And, aiding this one hour, repay it all.” 
 
 Thus he; but pleasing hopes his bosom warm, 
 
 Of Pallas latent in the friendly form. 
 
 The adverse host the phantom-warrior eyed. 
 
 And first, loud threatening, Agelaus cried: 
 
 “Mentor, beware, nor let that tongue persuade 
 Thy frantic arm to lend Ulysses aid; 
 
 Our force successful shall our threat make good. 
 
 And with the sire and son’s commix thy blood. 
 
 What hop’st thou here? Thee first the sword shall slay. 
 Then lop thy whole posterity away; 24( 
 
 Far hence thy banish’d consort shall we send; 
 
 With his, thy forfeit lands and treasures blend; 
 
 Thus, and thus only, shalt thou join thy friend.” 
 
 His barbarous insult even the goddess fires. 
 
 Who thus the warrior to revenge inspires: 
 
 “Art thou Ulysses? where then shall we find 
 The patient body and the constant mind? 
 
 That courage, once the Trojans’ daily dread. 
 
 Known nine long years, and felt by heroes dead? 
 
 And where that conduct which revenged the lust 2.5( 
 Of Priam’s race, and laid proud Troy in dust? 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
364 the odyssey, BOOK XXII. 
 
 If this, when Helen was the cause, were done. 
 
 What for thy country now,' thy queen, thy son? 
 
 Rise then in combat, at my side attend; 
 
 Observe what vigour gratitude can lend. 
 
 And foes how weak, opposed against a friend!” 
 
 She spoke; but willing longer to survey 
 The sire and son’s great acts, withheld the day; 
 
 By farther toils decreed the brave to' try, 
 
 And level poised the wings of victory; 260 
 
 Then with a change of form eludes their sight. 
 
 Perch’d like a swallow on a rafter’s height. 
 
 And unperceived enjoys the rising fight. 
 
 Damastes’ son, bold Agelaus, leads 
 The guilty war; Eurynomus succeeds; 
 
 With these, Pisander, great Polyctor’s son, ^ 
 
 Sage Polybus, and stern Amphimedon, 
 
 With Demoptolemus: these six survive; 
 
 The best of all the shafts had left alive. 
 
 Amidst the carnage, desperate as they stand, 270 
 
 Thus Agelaus roused the lagging band: 
 
 “The hour is come, when yon fierce man no more 
 With bleeding princes shall bestrew the floor. 
 
 Lo 1 Mentor leaves him with an empty boast; 
 
 The- four remain, but four against a host. 
 
 Let each at once discharge the deadly dart. 
 
 One, sure, of six, shall reach Ulysses’ heart: 
 
 The rest must perish, their great leader slain: 
 
 Thus shall one stroke the glory lost regain.” 
 
 Then all at once their mingled lances threw, 280 
 
 And thirsty all of one man’s blood they flew; 
 
 In vain 1 Minerva turn’d them with her breath. 
 
 And scatter’d short or wide the points of death! 
 
 With deaden’d sound one on the threshold falls. 
 
 One strikes the gate, one rings against the walls: 
 
 The storm pass’d innocent. The godlike man 
 Now loftier trod, and dreadful thus began: 
 
 “’Tis now, brave friends, our turn, at once to throw 
 (So speed them Heaven!) our javelins at the foe: 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 365 
 
 That impious race to all their past misdeeds 290 
 
 Would add our blood; injustice still proceeds.” 
 
 He spoke: at once their fiery lances flew; 
 
 Great Demoptolemus Ulysses slew; 
 
 Euryades received the prince’s dart; 
 
 The goatherd’s quiver’d in Pisander’s heart: 
 
 Fierce Elatus by thine, Eumeeus, falls; 
 
 Their fall in thunder echoes round the walls. 
 
 The rest retreat, the victors now advance, ’ 
 
 Each from the dead resumes his bloody lance. 
 
 Again the foe discharge the steely shower; 300 
 
 Again made frustrate by the virgin-power. 
 
 Some, turn’d by Pallas, on the threshold fall. 
 
 Some wound the gate, some ring against the wall; 
 
 Some, weak, or ponderous with the brazen head. 
 
 Drop harmless on the pavement, sounding dead. 
 
 Then bold Amphimedon his javelin cast: 
 
 Thy hand, Telemachus, it lightly razed; 
 
 And from Ctesippus’ arm the spear elanced 
 On good Eumseus’ shield and shoulder glanced: 
 
 Not lessen’d of their force (so slight the wound) 310 
 Each sung along, and dropp’d upon the ground. 
 
 Fate doom’d thee next, Eurydamas, to bear 
 Thy death, ennobled by Ulysses’ spear. 
 
 By the bold son Amphimedon was slain. 
 
 And Polybus renown’d the faithful swain. 
 
 Pierced through the breast the rude Ctesippus bled. 
 
 And thus Philetius gloried o’er the dead: 
 
 “ There end thy pompous vaunts and high disdain; 
 
 Oh, sharp in scandal, voluble and vain! 
 
 How weak is mortal pride! To Heaven alone 320 
 Th’ event of actions and our fates are known. 
 
 Scoffer, behold what gratitude we bear: 
 
 The victim’s heel is answer’d with his spear.” 
 
 Ulysses brandish’d high his vengeful steel. 
 
 And Damastorides that instant fell; 
 
 Fast by, Leocrates expiring lay. 
 
 The prince’s javelin tore its bloody way 
 
366 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 Through all his bowels: down he tumbles prone, 
 
 His batter’d front and brains besmear the stone. 
 
 Now Pallas shines confess’d! aloft she spreads 330 
 The arm of vengeance o’er their guilty heads; 
 
 The dreadful aegis blazes in their eye: 
 
 Amazed they see, they tremble, and they fly: 
 
 Confused, distracted, through the rooni they fling: 
 
 Like oxen madden’d by the breeze’s sting, 
 
 When sultry days, and long, succeed the gentle spring. 
 Not half so keen fierce vultures of the chase 
 Stoop from the mountains on the feather’d race. 
 
 When, the wide field extended snares beset. 
 
 With conscious dread they shun the quivering net: 340 
 No help, no flight; 'but wounded every way. 
 
 Headlong they drop; the fowlers seize the prey. J 
 On all sides thus they double wound on wound. 
 
 In prostrate heaps the wretches beat the ground: 
 Unmanly shrieks precede each dying groan. 
 
 And a red deluge floats the reeking stone. 
 
 Liodes first before the victor falls: 
 
 The wretched augur thus for mercy calls: 
 
 “ Oh, gracious hear, nor let thy suppliant bleed! 
 
 Still undishonour’d, or by word or deed, 350 
 
 Thy house, for me, remains; by me repress’d. 
 
 Full oft was check’d th’ injustice of the rest: 
 
 Averse they heard me when I counsel’d well. 
 
 Their hearts were harden’d, and they justly fell. 
 
 Oh, spare an augur’s consecrated head. 
 
 Nor add the blameless to the guilty dead.” 
 
 “ Priest as thou art 1 for that detested band 
 Thy lying prophecies deceived the land: 
 
 Against Ulysses have thy vows been made, , 
 
 For them thy daily orisons were paid. 360 
 
 Yet more, even to our bed thy pride aspires: 
 
 One common crime one common fate requires.” 
 
 Thus speaking, from the ground the sword he took 
 Which Agelaiis’ dying hand forsook: 
 
 Full through his neck the weighty faulchion sped: 
 
 Along the pavement roll’d the muttering head. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, . BOOK XXII. 367 
 
 Phemius alone the hand of vengeance spared, 
 
 Phemius, the sweet, the heaven-instructed bard. 
 
 Beside the gate the reverend minstrel stands; 
 
 The lyre now silent, trembling in his hands; 370 
 
 Dubious to supplicate the chief, or fly 
 To Jove’s inviolable altar nigh. 
 
 Where oft Laertes holy vows had paid, 
 
 And oft Ulysses smoking victims laid. 
 
 His honour’d harp with care he first set down, 
 
 Between the laver and the silver throne; 
 
 Then prostrate stretch’d before the dreadful man, 
 Persuasive, thus with accent soft began: 
 
 “O king! to mercy be thy soul inclined, 
 
 And spare the poet’s ever-gentle kind. 380 
 
 A deed like this thy future fame would wrong, 
 
 For dear to gods and men is sacred song. 
 
 Self-taught I sing: by Heaven, and Heaven alone. 
 
 The genuine seeds of poesy are sown: 
 
 And (what the gods bestow) the lofty lay. 
 
 To gods alone, and godlike worth, we pay. 
 
 Save then the poet, and thyself reward; 
 
 ’Tis thine to merit, mine is to record. 
 
 That here I sung, was force, and not desire: 
 
 This hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire; 390 
 
 And let thy son attest, nor sordid pay. 
 
 Nor servile flattery, stain’d the moral lay.” 
 
 The moving words Telemachus attends. 
 
 His sire approaches, and the bard defends. 
 
 “Oh, mix not, father, with those impious dead 
 The man divine! forbear that sacred head! 
 
 Medon, the herald, too, our arms may spare, 
 
 Medon, who made my infancy his care; 
 
 If yet he breathes, permit thy son to give 
 Thus much to gratitude, and bid him live.” 400 
 
 Beneath a table, trembling with dismay, 
 
 Couch’d close to earth, unhappy Medon lay. 
 
 Wrapp’d in a new-slain ox’s ample hide: 
 
 Swift at the word he cast his screen aside, 
 
368 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 Sprung to the prince, embraced his knees with tears, 
 
 And thus with grateful voice address’d his ears: 
 
 “Oh prince! oh friend! lo here thy Medon stands: 
 
 Ah, stop the hero’s unresisted hands. 
 
 Incensed too justly by that impious brood. 
 
 Whose guilty glories now are set in blood.” 410 
 
 To whom Ulysses, with a pleasing eye: 
 
 “Be bold, on friendship and my son rely: 
 
 Live, an example for the world to read. 
 
 How much more safe the good than evil deed: 
 
 Thou with the heaven-taught bard in peace resort 
 From blood and carnage to yon open court: 
 
 Me other work requires.”—With timorous awe 
 From the dire scene th’ exempted two withdraw, 
 
 Scarce sure of life, look round, and trembling move 
 To the bright altars of Protector Jove. 420 
 
 Meanwhile, Ulysses search’d the dome, to find 
 If yet there live of all th’ offending kind. 
 
 Not one: complete the bloody tale he found. 
 
 All steep’d in blood, all gasping on the ground. 
 
 So when, by hollow shores the fisher-train 
 Sweep with their arching nets the hoary main, 
 
 And scarce the meshy toils the copious draught contain. 
 All naked of their element, and bare. 
 
 The fishes pant, and gasp in thinner air; 
 
 Wide o’er the sands are spread the stiffening prey, 430 
 Till the warm sun exhales their soul away. 
 
 And now the king commands his son to call 
 Old Euryclea to the deathful hall: 
 
 The son observant not a moment stays; 
 
 The aged governess with speed obeys; 
 
 The sounding portals instant they display; 
 
 The matron moves, the prince directs the way. 
 
 On heaps of death the stern Ulysses stood. 
 
 All black with dust, and cover’d thick with blood. 
 
 So the grim lion from the slaughter comes. 
 
 Dreadful he glares, and terribly he foams, 
 
 His breast with marks of carnage painted o’er, 
 
 His jaws all dropping with the bull’s black gore. 
 
 440 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 
 
 Soon as her eyes the welcome object met, 
 
 The guilty fall’n, the mighty deed complete, 
 
 A scream of joy her feeble voice essay’d. 
 
 The hero check’d her, and compos’dly said; 
 
 “Woman, experienced as thou art, control 
 Indecent joy, and feast thy secret soul. 
 
 T’ insult the dead, is cruel and unjust; 
 
 Fate and their crime have sunk them to the dust. 
 
 Nor heeded these the censure of mankind. 
 
 The good and bad were equal in their mind. 
 
 Justly the price of worthlessness they paid. 
 
 And each now wails, an unlamented shade. 
 
 But thou, sincere, oh, Euryclea! say. 
 
 What maids dishonour us, and what obey?” 
 
 Then she: “In these thy kingly walls remain. 
 
 My son, full fifty of the handmaid-train. 
 
 Taught by my care, to cull the fleece or weave. 
 
 And servitude with pleasing tasks deceive; 
 
 Of these, twice six pursue their wicked way. 
 
 Nor me, nor chaste Penelope obey; 
 
 Nor fits it that Telemachus command. 
 
 Young as he is, his mother’s female band. 
 
 Hence to the upper chambers let me fly, 
 
 Where slumbers soft now close the royal eye; 
 
 There wake her with the news!” the matron cried. 
 
 “Not so,” Ulysses more sedate replied; 
 
 “Bring first the crew who wrought these guilty deeds. 
 
 In haste the matron parts: the king proceeds: 471 
 
 “Now to dispose the dead, the care remains 
 To you, my son, and you, my faithful swains. 
 
 Th’ offending females to that task we doom. 
 
 To wash, to scent, and purify the lOom. 
 
 These (every table cleansed, and every throne 
 And all the melancholy labour done) 
 
 Drive to yon court, without the palace-wall. 
 
 There the revenging sword shall smite them all; 
 
 So with the suitors let them mix in dust,^^ 48C 
 
 Stretch’d in a long oblivion of their lust.” 
 
 16^ Y 
 
 369 
 
 450 
 
370 the odyssey, book XXII. 
 
 He said: the lamentable train appear, 
 
 Each vents a groan, and drops a tender tear: 
 
 Each heaved her mournful burden, and beneath 
 The porch deposed the ghastly heaps of death. 
 
 The chief severe, compelling each to move. 
 
 Urged the dire task imperious from above: 
 
 With thirsty sponge they rub the tables o’er; 
 
 (The swains unite their toil;) the walls, the floor. 
 
 Wash’d with th’ effusive wave, are purged of gore; 490 
 Once more the palace set in fair array. 
 
 To the base court the females take their way; 
 
 There, compass’d close between the dome and wall, 
 (Their life’s last scene,) they trembling wait their fall. 
 
 Then thus the prince: “To these shall we afford 
 A fate so pure, as by the martial sword? -j 
 
 To these, the nightly prostitutes to shame. 
 
 And base revilers of our house and name?” 
 
 Thus speaking, on the circling walls he strung 
 A ship’s tough cable, from a column hung; 500 
 
 Near the high top he strain’d it strongly round. 
 
 Whence no contending foot could reach the ground. 
 
 Their heads above connected in a row. 
 
 They beat the air with quivering feet below; 
 
 Thus on some tree, hung struggling in the snare. 
 
 The doves or thrushes flap their wings in air. 
 
 Soon fled their soul impure, and left behind 
 The empty corse to waver with the wind. 
 
 Then forth they led Melanthius, and began 
 Their bloody work; they lopp’d away the man, 510 
 Morsel for dogs! then trimm’d with brazen shears 
 The wretch, and shorten’d of his nose and ears; 
 
 His hands and feet last felt the cruel steel: 
 
 He roar’d, and torments gave his soul to hell. 
 
 They wash, and to Ulysses take their way; 
 
 So ends the bloody business of the day. 
 
 To Euryclea then address’d the king: 
 
 “Bring hither fire, and hither sulphur bring, 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXII. 371 
 
 To purge the palace: then the queen attend, 
 
 And let her with her matron-train descend; 520 
 
 The matron-train, with all the virgin-band. 
 
 Assemble here to learn their lord’s command.” 
 
 Then Euryclea: “Joyful I obey. 
 
 But cast those mean, dishonest rags away; 
 
 Permit me first the royal robes to bring; 
 
 Ill suits this garb the shoulders of a king.” 
 
 “Bring sulphur straight and fire,” the monarch cries. 
 She hears, and at the word obedient flies. 
 
 With fire and sulphur, cure of noxious fumes, 
 
 He purged the walls, and blood-polluted rooms. 530 
 
 Again the matron springs with eager pace. 
 
 And spreads her lord’s return from place to place. 
 
 They hear, rush forth, and instant round him stand, 
 
 A gazing throng, a torch in every hand. 
 
 . They saw, they knew him, and with fond embrace 
 Each humbly kiss’d his knee, or hand, or face; 
 
 He knows them all, in all such truth appears, 
 
 Ev’n he indulges the sweet joy of tears. 
 
BOOK XXIII. 
 
 Interview of Penelope and TTlysses after the Suitors’ Death. 
 
 Argument. —Euryclea awakens Penelop^ with the news of Ulysses’ return 
 and the death of the suitors. Penelopd scarcely credits her; but supposes 
 some god has punished them, and descends from her apartment in doubt. 
 At the first interview of Ulysses and Penelop^, she is quite unsatisfied. 
 Minerva restores him to the beauty of his youth ; but the queen continues 
 incredulous, till by some circumstances she is convinced, and falls into 
 all the transports of passion and tenderness. They recount to each other 
 all that has passed during their long separation. The next morning 
 Ulysses, arming himself and his friends, goes from the city to^dsit his 
 father. ‘ 
 
 Then to the queen, as in repose she lay, 
 
 The nurse with eager rapture speeds her way; 
 
 The transports of her faithful heart supply 
 A sudden youth, and give her wings to fly. 
 
 “And sleeps my child?” the reverend matron cries; 
 “Ulysses lives! Arise, my child, arise! 
 
 At length appears the long-expected hour!^ 
 
 Ulysses comes! the suitors are no more! 
 
 No more they view the golden light of day! 
 
 Arise, and bless thee with the glad survey!” 10 
 
 Touch’d at her words, the mournful queen rejoin’d: 
 “Ah! whither wanders thy distemper’d mind? 
 
 The righteous powers, who tread the starry skies, 
 
 The weak enlighten, and confound the wise. 
 
 And human thought, with unresisted sway. 
 
 Depress or raise, enlarge or take away: 
 
 Truth, by their high decree, thy voice forsakes. 
 
 And folly with the tongue of wisdom speaks. 
 
 Unkind, the fond illusion to impose! 
 
 Was it to flatter or deride my woes? 
 
 Never did I a sleep so sweet enjoy. 
 
 Since my dear lord left Ithaca for Troy. 
 
 20 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 373 
 
 Why must I wake to grieve, and curse thy shore, 
 
 O Troy?—may never tongue pronounce thee more! 
 Begone I another might have felt our rage. 
 
 But age is sacred, and we spare thy age.” 
 
 To whom with warmth: “My soul a lie disdains: 
 Ulysses lives, thy own Ulysses reigns: 
 
 That stranger^ patient of the suitors’ wrongs, 
 
 And the rude license of ungovern’d tongues, 30 
 
 He, he is thine. Thy son his latent guest 
 Long knew, but lock’d the secret in his breast; 
 
 With well-concerted art to end his woes. 
 
 And burst at once in vengeance on the foes.” 
 
 While yet she spoke, the queen in transport sprung 
 Swift from the couch, and round the matron hung: 
 
 Fast from her eye descends the rolling tear. 
 
 “Say, once more say, is my Ulysses here? 
 
 How could that numerous and outrageous band 
 By one be slain, though by a hero’s hand?” 40 
 
 “I saw it not,” she cried, “but heard alone. 
 
 When death was busy, a loud dying groan; 
 
 The damsel-train turn’d pale at every wound; 
 
 Immured we sate, and caught each passing sound; 
 
 When death had seized his prey, thy son attends. 
 
 And at his nod the damsel-train descends: 
 
 There, terrible in arms, Ulysses stood. 
 
 And the dead suitors almost swam in blood: 
 
 Thy heart had leap’d the hero to survey. 
 
 Stern as the surly lion o’er his prey. 
 
 Glorious in gore 1—now with sulphureous fires 
 The dome he purges, now the flame aspires; 
 
 Heap’d lie the dead without the palace walls— 
 
 Haste, daughter, haste! thy own Ulysses calls: 
 
 Thy every wish the bounteous gods bestow; 
 
 Enjoy the present good, and former wo. 
 
 Ulysses lives, his vanquish’d foes to see; 
 
 He lives to thy Telemachus and thee!” 
 
 “Ah, no!” with sighs Penelope rejoin’d, 
 
 “Excess of joy disturbs thy wandering mind. 
 
 60 
 
374 the odyssey, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 How bless’d this happy hourj should he appear, ■' 
 
 Dear to us all, to me supremely dear! 
 
 Ah, no 1 some god the suitors’ deaths decreed, ^ 
 
 Some god descends, and by his hand they bleed. 
 
 Blind 1 to contemn the stranger’s righteous cause, ^ 
 And violate all hospitable laws! 
 
 The good they hated, and the powers defied 
 
 But Heaven is just, and by a god they died. : ' 
 
 For never must Ulysses view this shore; ? - ■ 
 
 Never! the loved Ulysses is no more!” 70 
 
 “ What words,” the matron cries,“have reach’d my ears ? 
 Doubt we his presence, when he now appears? 
 
 Then hear conviction: Ere the fatal day 
 
 That forced Ulysses o’er the watery way, • 
 
 A boar, fierce rushing in the sylvan war, 
 
 Plough’d half his thigh; I saw, I saw the scar. 
 
 And with wild transport had reveal’d the wound; A 
 But ere I spoke, he rose, and check’d the sound. f 
 
 Then, daughter, haste away! and if a lie 
 Flow from this tongue, then let thy servant die!” 80 
 
 To whom with dubious joy the queen replies; 
 
 “Wise is thy soul, but errors seize the wise; 
 
 The works of gods what mortal can survey? 
 
 Who knows their motives, who shall trace their way? 
 
 But learn we instant how the suitors trod 
 The paths of death, by man, or by a god.” 
 
 Thus speaks the queen, and no reply attends. 
 
 But with alternate joy and fear descends; . 
 
 At every step debates her lord to prove; 
 
 Or, rushing to his arms, confess her love! 90 
 
 Then gliding through the marble valves, in state 
 Opposed, before the shining sire she sate. 
 
 The monarch, by a column high enthroned. 
 
 His eye withdrew, and fix’d it on the ground; 
 
 Curious to hear his queen the silence break. 
 
 Amazed she sate, and impotent to speak; 
 
 O’er all the man her eyes she rolls in vain. 
 
 Now hopes, now fears, now knows, then doubts again. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 375 
 
 At length Telemachus: “Oh, who can find 
 A woman like Penelop4 unkind? 100 
 
 Why thus in silence ? why with winning charms 
 Thus slow to flyLWith rapture to his arms? 
 
 Stubborn the breast that with no transport glows, ^ 
 When twice ten years are pass’d of mighty woes; 
 
 To softness lost, to spousal love unknown. 
 
 The gods have form’d that rigid heart of stone.” 
 
 “Oh, my Telemachus!” the queen rejoin’d, 
 
 “Distracting fears confound my labouring mind; 
 Powerless to speak, I scarce uplift my eyes. 
 
 Nor dare to question; doubts on doubts arise. 110 
 
 Oh, deign he, if Ulysses, to remove 
 These boding thoughts, and what he is, to prove I” 
 Pleased with her virtuous fears, the king replies: 
 “Indulge, my son, the cautions of the wise; 
 
 Time shall the truth to sure remembrance bring; 
 
 This garb of poverty belies the king; 
 
 No more.—This day our deepest care requires. 
 
 Cautious to act what thought mature inspires. 
 
 If one man’s blood, though mean, distain our hands. 
 
 The homicide retreats to foreign lands; 120 
 
 By us, in heaps th’ illustrious peerage falls, 
 
 Th’ important deed our whole attention calls.” 
 
 “Be that thy care,” Telemachus replies; 
 
 “The world conspires to speak Ulysses wise; 
 
 For wisdom all is thine! lo, I obey. 
 
 And dauntless follow where you lead the way; 
 
 Nor shalt thou in the day of danger find 
 Thy coward son degenerate lag behind.” 
 
 “Then instant to the bath,” the monarch cries; 
 
 “Bid the gay youth and sprightly virgins rise, 130 
 
 Thence all descend in pomp and proud array, 
 
 And bid the dome resound the mirthful lay; 
 
 While the sweet lyrist airs of rapture sings, 
 
 And forms the dance responsive to the strings. 
 
 That hence th’ eluded passengers may say, 
 
 Lo! the queen weds! we hear the spousal-lay! 
 
376 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 The suitors’ death, unknown, ’till we remove 
 Far from the court, and act inspired by Jove.” i 
 Thus spoke the king; th’ observant train obey, ^ 
 
 At once they bathe, and dress in proud array: 140 
 
 The lyrist strikes the string; gay youths advance, 
 
 And fair-zoned damsels form the sprightly dance. 
 
 The voice, attuned to instrumental sounds, 
 
 Ascends the roof, the vaulted roof rebounds: 
 
 Not unobserved: the Greeks eluded say, 
 
 “Lo! the queen weds, we hear the spousal-lay! 
 
 Inconstant 1 to admit the bridal-hour.” 
 
 Thus they.—But, nobly chaste, she weds no more. « 
 Meanwhile, the wearied king the bath ascends I 
 With faithful cares Eurynom^ attends, 150 
 
 O’er every limb a shower of fragrance sheds; ^ 
 
 Then, dress’d in pomp, magnificent he treads. 
 
 The warrior-goddess gives his frame to shine 
 With majesty enlarged, and grace divine. 
 
 Back from his brows in wavy ringlets fly 
 His thick large locks of hyacinthine dye. 
 
 As by some artist to whom Vulcan gives 
 His heavenly skill, a breathing image lives; 
 
 By Pallas taught, he frames the wondrous mould, 
 
 And the pale silver glows with fusile gold: 160 
 
 So Pallas his heroic form improves 
 
 With bloom divine, and like a god he moves! 
 
 More high he treads, and issuing forth in state, 
 
 Radiant before his gazing consort sate. 
 
 And, “ Oh, my queen 1” he cries, “ what power above 
 Has steel’d that heart, averse to spousal love? 
 
 Canst thou, Penelop6—when Heaven restores 
 Thy lost Ulysses to his native shores— 
 
 Canst thou, oh cruel 1 unconcern’d survey 
 
 Thy lost Ulysses, on this signal day? 170 
 
 Haste, Euryclea, and despatchful spread 
 
 For me, and me alone, th’ imperial bed; 
 
 My weary nature craves the balm of rest: 
 
 But Heaven with adamant has arm’d her breast.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 377 
 
 ‘‘Ah no!” she cries, “a tender heart I bear, 
 
 A foe to pride, no adamant is there; 
 
 And now, even now it melts! for sure I see 
 Once more Ulysses, my beloved, in thee 1 
 Fix’d in my soul, as when he sail’d to Troy, 
 
 His image dwells: then haste the bed of joy! 180 
 
 Haste, from the bridal-bower the bed translate. 
 
 Framed by his hand, and be it dress’d in state! 
 
 Thus speaks the queen, still dubious, with disguise; 
 Touch’d at her words, the king with warmth replies: 
 
 “Alas, for this! what mortal strength can move 
 Th’ enormous burden; who but Heaven above? 
 
 It mocks the weak attempts of human hands; 
 
 But the whole earth must move, if Heaven commands. 
 Then hear sure evidence, while we display 
 Words seal’d with sacred truth, and truth obey; 190 
 This hand the wonder framed; an olive spread 
 Full in the court its ever-verdant head. 
 
 Vast as some mighty column’s bulk, on high 
 The huge trunk rose, and heaved into the sky; 
 
 Around the tree I raised a nuptial bower. 
 
 And roof’d defensive of the storm and shower; 
 
 The spacious valve, with art inwrought, conjoins; 
 
 And the fair dome with polish’d marble shines. 
 
 I lopp’d the branchy head; aloft in twain 
 
 Sever’d the bole, and smooth’d the shining grain; 200 
 
 Then posts, capacious of the frame, I raise. 
 
 And bore it, regular, from space to space: 
 
 Athwart the frame, at equal distance lie 
 Thongs of tough hides, that boast a purple dye; 
 
 Then polishing the whole, the finish’d mould 
 With silver shone, with elephant, and gold. 
 
 But if o’erturn’d by rude, ungovern’d hands. 
 
 Or still inviolate the olive stands, 
 
 ’Tis thine, oh queen, to say: and now impart. 
 
 If fears remain, or doubts distract thy heart?” 210 
 
 While yet he speaks, her powers of life decay, 
 
 She sickens, trembles, falls, and faints away. 
 
378 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 At length, recovering, to his arms she flew, 
 
 And strain’d him close, as to his breast she grew: * 
 
 The tears pour’d down amain; and “Oh!” she cries, 
 
 “Let not against thy spouse thine anger rise! 
 
 Oh, versed in every turn of human art, 
 
 Forgive the weakness of a woman’s heart 1 ^ 
 
 The righteous powers, that mortal lots dispose, 
 
 Decree us to sustain a length of woes, 220 
 
 And from the flower of life the bliss deny 
 To bloom together, fade away, and die. 
 
 Oh, let me, let me not thine anger move. 
 
 That I forbore, thus, thus to speak my love: 
 
 Thus in fond kisses, while the transport warms. 
 
 Pour out my soul, and die within thy arms! % 
 
 I dreaded fraud. Men, faithless men, betray H 
 Our easy faith, and make the sex their prey: 
 
 Against the fondness of my heart I strove; 
 
 ’Twas caution—oh, my lord!—not want of love. 230 
 Like me had Helen fear’d, with wanton charms 
 Ere the fair mischief set the world in arms; 
 
 Ere Greece rose dreadful in th’ avenging day; 
 
 Thus had she fear’d, she had not gone astray. 
 
 But Heaven, averse to Greece, in wrath decreed 
 That she should wander, and that Greece should bleed: 
 Blind to the ills that from injustice flow. 
 
 She colour’d all our wretched lives with wo. 
 
 But why these sorrows when my lord arrives? 
 
 I yield, I yield! my own Ulysses lives! 240 
 
 The secrets of the bridal-bed are known 
 To thee, to me, to Actoris alone, 
 
 (My father’s present in the spousal hour. 
 
 The sole attendant on our genial bower.) 
 
 Since what no eye hath seen, thy tongue reveal’d. 
 
 Hard and distrustful as I am, I yield.” 
 
 Touch’d to the soul, the king with rapture hears. 
 
 Hangs round her neck, and speaks his joy in tears. 
 
 As, to the shipwreck’d mariner, the shores 
 
 Delightful rise, when angry Neptune roars; 250 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 379 
 
 Then, when the surge in thunder mounts the sky, 
 And gulf’d in crowds at once the sailors die; 
 
 If one more happy, while the tempest raves. 
 
 Outlives the tumult of conflicting waves. 
 
 All pale, with ooze deform’d, he views the strand. 
 And, plunging forth, with transport grasps the land: 
 The ravish’d queen with equal rapture glows, 
 
 Clasps her loved lord, and to his bosom grows. 
 
 Nor had they ended till the morning ray, 
 
 But Pallas backward held the rising day, 
 
 The wheels of night retarding, to detain 
 The gay Aurora in the wavy main; 
 
 Whose flaming steeds, emerging through the night. 
 Beam o’er the eastern hills with streaming light. 
 
 At length Ulysses with a sigh replies: 
 
 “Yet Fate, yet cruel Fate repose denies; 
 
 A labour long, and hard, remains behind; 
 
 By Heaven above, by hell beneath enjoin d; 
 
 For, to Tiresias through th’ eternal gates 
 Of hell I trode, to learn my future fates. 
 
 But end we here: the night demands repose. 
 
 Be deck’d the couch! and peace a while, my woes!” 
 
 To whom the queen: “Thy word we shall obey. 
 And deck the couch; far hence be woes away; 
 
 Since the just gods, who tread the starry plains. 
 Restore thee safe, since my Ulysses reigns. 
 
 But what those perils Heaven decrees, impart; 
 Knowledge may grieve, but fear distracts the heart.” 
 
 To this the king: “Ah, why must I disclose 
 A dreadful story of approaching woes? 
 
 Why in this hour of transport wound thy ears, 
 
 ^VV^hen thou must learn what I must speak with tears? 
 Heaven, by the Theban ghost, thy spouse decrees. 
 Torn from thy arms, to sail a length of seas; 
 
 From realm to realm, a nation to explore. 
 
 Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar. 
 
 Nor saw gay vessel stem the surgy plain, 
 
 A painted wonder, flying on the main; 
 
380 the odyssey, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 An oar my hand must bear ; a shepherd eyes 
 The unknown instrument with strange surprise, 290 
 And calls a corn-van: this upon the plain 
 I fix, and hail the monarch of the main; 
 
 Then bathe his altars with the mingled gore 
 Of victims vow’d—a ram, a bull, a boar; 
 
 Thence swift resailing to my native, shores, 
 
 Due victims slay to all th’ etherial powers. 
 
 Then Heaven decrees in peace to end my days. 
 
 And steal myself from life by slow decays; 
 
 Unknown to pain, in age resign my breath, 
 
 When late stern Neptune points the shaft of death; 300 
 To. the dark grave retiring as to rest. 
 
 My people blessing, by my people bless’d.— 
 
 Such future scenes th’ all-righteous powers display 
 By their dread seer,* and such my future day.” 
 
 To whom thus firm of soul: “ If ripe for death. 
 
 And full of days, thou gently yield thy breath; 
 
 While Heaven a kind release from ills foreshows. 
 Triumph, thou happy victor of thy woes!” 
 
 But Euryclea, with despatchful care. 
 
 And sage Eurynom^, the couch prepare: 310 
 
 Instant they bid the blazing torch display 
 Around the dome an artificial day: 
 
 Then to repose her steps the matron bends. 
 
 And to the queen Eurynome descends! 
 
 A torch she bears, to light with guiding fires 
 The royal pair; she guides them, and retires; 
 
 Then instant his fair spouse Ulysses led 
 To the chaste love-rites of the nuptial-bed. 
 
 And now the blooming youths and sprightly fair 
 Cease the gay dance, and to their rest repair; 320 
 
 But in discourse the king and consort lay. 
 
 While the soft hours stole unperceived away: 
 
 Intent he hears Penelop6 disclose 
 A mournful story of domestic woes, 
 
 * Tiresias. 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 381 
 
 330 
 
 340 
 
 His servants’ insults, his invaded bed, 
 
 How his whole flocks and herds exhausted bled, 
 
 His generous wines dishonour’d shed in vain, 
 
 And the wild riots of the suitor-train. 
 
 The king alternate a dire tale relates. 
 
 Of wars, of triumphs, and disastrous fates; 
 
 All he unfolds: his listening spouse turns pale 
 With pleasing horror at the dreadful tale: 
 
 Sleepless devours each word; and hears how slain 
 Cicons on Cicons swell th’ ensanguined plain; 
 
 How to the land of Lote unbless’d he sails; 
 
 And images the rills and flowery vales; 
 
 How, dash’d like dogs, his friends the Cyclops tore, 
 
 (Not unrevenged,) and quaff’d the spouting gore; 
 
 How, the loud storms in prison bound, he sails 
 From friendly iEolus with prosperous gales; 
 
 Yet fate withstands! a sudden tempest roars. 
 
 And whirls him groaning from his native shores: 
 
 How on the barbarous Lsestrygonian coast. 
 
 By savage hands his fleet and friends he lost; 
 
 How scarce himself survived: he paints the bower. 
 
 The spells of Circ^, and her magic power; 
 
 His dreadful journey to the realms beneath. 
 
 To seek Tiresias in the vales of death: 
 
 How in the doleful mansions he survey’d 
 His royal mother, pale Anticlea’s shade; 
 
 And friends in battle slain, heroic ghosts I 
 Then how, unharm’d, he pass’d the Siren coasts. 
 
 The justling rocks where fierce Charybdis raves. 
 
 And howling Scylla whirls her thunderous waves. 
 
 The cave of death! How his companions slay 
 The oxen sacred to the god of day. 
 
 Till Jove in wrath the rattling tempest guides. 
 
 And whelms th’ offenders in the roaring tides: 
 
 How, struggling through the surge, he reach’d the shores 
 Of fair Ogygia, and Calypso’s bowers; 360 
 
 Where the gay blooming nymph constrain’d his stay. 
 With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay; 
 
 350 
 
382 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIII. 
 
 And promised—vainly promised—^to bestow 
 Immortal life, exempt from age and wo; 
 
 How, saved from storms, Phseacia’s coast he trod. 
 
 By great Alcinoiis honour’d as a god, 
 
 Who gave him last his country to behold, 
 
 With change of raiment, brass, and heaps of gold. 
 
 He ended, sinking into sleep, and shares 
 A sweet forgetfulness of all his cares. 
 
 Soon as soft slumber eased the toils of day, 
 
 Minerva rushes through th’ aerial way. 
 
 And bids Aurora with her golden wheels 
 Flame from the ocean o’er the eastern hills: 
 
 Up rose Ulysses from the genial bed. 
 
 And thus, with thought mature, the monarch said: 
 
 “My queen, my consort! through a length of years 
 We drank the cup of sorrow, mix’d with tears; 
 
 Thou, for thy lord: while me th’ immortal powers 
 Detain’d reluctant from my native shores. 
 
 Now, bless’d again by Heaven, the queen display. 
 And rule our palace with an equal sway. 
 
 Be it my care, by loans, or martial toils. 
 
 To throng my empty folds with gifts or spoils. 
 
 But now I haste to bless Laertes’ eyes 
 With sight of his Ulysses ere he dies: 
 
 The good old man, to wasting woes a prey. 
 
 Weeps a sad life in solitude away. 
 
 But hear, though wise I This morning shall unfold 
 The deathful scene; on heroes heroes roll’d. 
 
 Thou with thy maids within the palace stay, 
 
 From all the scene of tumult far away 1” 
 
 He spoke; and, sheath’d in arms, incessant flies 
 To wake his son, and bid his friends arise. 
 
 “To arms!” aloud he cries: his friends obey, 
 
 With glittering arms their manly limbs array. 
 
 And pass the city-gate; Ulysses leads the way. 
 
 Now flames the rosy dawn, but Pallas shrouds 
 The latent warriors in a veil of clouds. 
 
 370 
 
 380 
 
 390 
 
BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Ulysses visits his Father; Victory over Eupeithes. 
 
 Argument. —The souls of the suitors are conducted by Mercury to the infer¬ 
 nal shades. Ulysses in the country goes to the retirement of his father 
 Laertes; he finds him busied in the g-arden all alone: the manner of his 
 discovery to him is beautifully described. They return tog’ether to bis 
 lodgce, and the king" is acknowledged by Dolius and the servants. The 
 IthacensianSjled by Eupeithes, the father of Antinoiis, rise against Ulysses, 
 who gives them battle, in which Eupeithes is killed by Laertes; and the 
 goddess Pallas makes a lasting peace between Ulysses and his subjects, 
 which concludes the Odyssey. 
 
 Cyllenius now to Pluto’s dreary reign 
 Conveys the dead, a lamentable train! 
 
 The golden wand, that causes sleep to fly. 
 
 Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye. 
 
 That drives the ghosts to realms of night or day, 
 
 Points out the long, uncomfortable way. 
 
 Trembling the spectres glide, and plaintive vent 
 Thin, hollow screams, along the deep descent: 
 
 As in the cavern of some rifted den. 
 
 Where flock nocturnal bats, and birds obscene; 10 
 
 Cluster’d they hang, till at some sudden shock 
 They move, and murmurs run through all the rock: 
 
 So cowering fled the sable heaps of ghosts. 
 
 And such a scream fill’d all the dismal coasts. 
 
 And now they reach the earth’s remotest ends. 
 
 And now the gates where evening Sol descends. 
 
 And Leucas’ rocks, and Ocean’s utmost streams. 
 
 And now pervade the dusky land of dreams. 
 
 And rest at last, where souls unbodied dwell 
 In ever-flowering meads of Asphodel. 20 
 
 The empty forms of men inhabit there. 
 
 Impassive semblance, images of air! 
 
384 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Nought else are all that shined on earth before; 
 
 Ajax and great Achilles are no more! 
 
 Yet, still a master-ghost, the rest he awed. 
 
 The rest adored him, towering as he trod; 
 
 Still at his side is Nestor’s son survey’d. 
 
 And loved Patroclus still attends his shade. 
 
 New as they were to that infernal shore, 
 
 The suitors stopp’d, and gazed the hero o’er. 30 
 
 When, moving slow, the regal form they view’d 
 Of great Atrides; him in pomp pursued. 
 
 And solemn sadness, through the gloom of hell. 
 
 The train of those who by iEgysthus fell. 
 
 “Oh, mighty chief!” Pelides thus began, 
 
 “Honour’d by Jove above the lot of man!— 
 
 King of a hundred kings! to whom resign’d 
 The strongest, bravest, greatest of mankind— 
 
 Com’st thou the first, to view this dreary state? 
 
 And was the noblest, the first mark of Fate? 
 
 Condemn’d to pay the great arrear so soon. 
 
 The lot which all lament, and none can shun! 
 
 Oh! better hadst thou sunk in Trojan ground. 
 
 With all thy full-blown honours cover’d round! 
 
 Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes might raise 
 Historic marbles to record thy praise: 
 
 Thy praise eternal on the faithful stone. 
 
 Had with transmissive glories graced thy son. 
 
 But heavier fates were destined to attend. 
 
 What man is happy, till he knows his end?” 50 
 
 “Oh, son of Peleus! greater than mankind!” 
 
 Thus Agamemnon’s kingly shade rejoin’d, 
 
 “ Thrice happy thou, to press the martial plain 
 Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain: 
 
 In clouds of smoke, raised by the noble fray. 
 
 Great and terrific even in death you lay. 
 
 And deluges of blood flow’d round you every way. 
 
 Nor ceased the strife till Jove himself opposed. 
 
 And all in tempests the dire evening closed. 
 
 Then to the fleet we bore thy honour’d load. 
 
 And decent on the funeral-bed bestow’d: 
 
 ^ t t ' 
 
 40 
 
 GO 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 385 
 
 Then unguents sweet and tepid streams we shed; 
 
 Tears flow’d from every eye, and o’er the dead 
 Each clipp’d the curling honours of his head. 
 
 Struck at the news, thy azure mother came; 
 
 The sea-green sisters waited on the dame: 
 
 A voice of loud lament through all the main 
 Was heard; and terror seized the Grecian train:. 
 
 Back to their ships the frighted host had fled; 
 
 But Nestor spoke, they listen’d, and obey’d: 70 
 
 (From old experience Nestor’s counsel springs, 
 
 And long vicissitudes of human things.) 
 
 * Forbear your flight: fair Thetis from the main 
 To mourn Achilles leads her azure train.’ 
 
 Around thee stand the daughters of the deep. 
 
 Robe thee in heavenly vests, and round thee weep; 
 Round thee, the Muses, with alternate strain. 
 
 In ever-consecrating verse, complain. 
 
 Each warlike Greek the moving music hears. 
 
 And iron-hearted heroes melt in tears. 80 
 
 Till seventeen nights and seventeen days return’d. 
 
 All that was mortal or immortal mourn’d. 
 
 To flames we gave thee, the succeeding day, 
 
 And fatted sheep, and sable oxen slay; 
 
 With oils and honey blaze th’ augmented fires. 
 
 And, like a god adorn’d, thy earthly part expires. 
 Unnumber’d warriors round the burning pile 
 Urge the fleet courser’s or the racer’s toil; 
 
 Thick clouds of dust o’er all the circle rise. 
 
 And the mix’d clamour thunders in the skies. . 90 
 
 Soon as absorb’d in all-embracing flame 
 Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name. 
 
 We then collect thy snowy bones, and place 
 With wines and unguents in a golden vase; 
 
 (The vase to ^Thetis, Bacchus gave of old. 
 
 And Vulcan’s art enrich’d the sculptured gold:) 
 
 There we thy relics, great Achilles! blend 
 With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend: 
 
 In the same urn a separate space contains 
 Thy next beloved, Antilochus’ remains. 
 
 17 Z 
 
 100 
 
386 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Now all the sons of warlike Greece surround 
 Thy destined tomb, and cast a mighty mound: 
 
 High on the shore the growing hill we raise, 
 
 That wide th’ extended Hellespont surveys: 
 
 Where all from age to age, who pass the coast, 
 
 May point Achilles’ tomb, and hail the mighty ghost. 
 Thetis herself to all our peers proclaims 
 Heroic prizes and exequial games; 
 
 The gods assented; and around thee lay 
 
 Rich spoils and gifts that blazed against the day. 110 
 
 Oft have I seen with solemn funeral games 
 
 Heroes and kings committed to the flames; 
 
 But strength of youth, or valour of the brave. 
 
 With nobler contest ne’er renown’d a grave. 
 
 Such were the games by azure Thetis given. 
 
 And such thy honours—oh, beloved of heaven! 
 
 Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor fades 
 Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades. 
 
 But what to me avail my honours gone. 
 
 Successful toils, and battles bravely won? 120 
 
 Doom’d by stern Jove at home to end my life, 
 
 By cursed iEgysthus, and a faithless wife I” 
 
 Thus they; while Hermes o’er the dreary plain 
 Led the sad numbers by Ulysses slain. 
 
 On each majestic form they cast a view. 
 
 And timorous pass’d, and awfully withdrew. 
 
 But Agamemnon, through the gloomy shade. 
 
 His ancient host Amphimedon survey’d: 
 
 “Son of Melanthius!” he began, “oh, say! 
 
 What cause compel’d so many, and so gay, 130 
 
 To tread the downward, melancholy way? 
 
 Say, could one city yield a troop so fair? 
 
 Were all these partners of one native air? 
 
 Or'did the rage of stormy Neptune sweep 
 Your lives at once, and whelm beneath the deep? 
 
 Did nightly thieves, or pirates’ cruel bands. 
 
 Drench with your blood your pillaged country’s sands? 
 Or, well defending some beleaguer’d wall, 
 
 Say, for the public did ye greatly fall? 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 387 
 
 Inform thy guest: for such I was of yore, 140 
 
 When our triumphant navies touch’d your shore; 
 
 Forced a long month the wintry seas to bear, 
 
 To move the great Ulysses to the war.” 
 
 “Oh, king of nien! I faithful shall relate,” 
 
 Replied Amphimedon, “our hapless fate. 
 
 Ulysses absent, our ambitious aim 
 With rival loves pursued his royal dame; 
 
 Her coy reserve, and prudence mix’d with pride. 
 
 Our common suit nor granted, nor denied; 
 
 But close with inward hate our deaths design’d; 150 
 Versed in all arts of wily womankind. 
 
 Her hand, laborious, in delusion spread 
 A spacious loom, and mix’d the various thread. 
 
 ‘Ye peers,’ she cried, ‘who press to gain my heart. 
 Where dead Ulysses claims no more a part. 
 
 Yet a short space your rival suit suspend, 
 
 Till this funereal-web my labours end: 
 
 Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath 
 A task of grief, his ornaments of death: 
 
 Lest, when the Fates his royal ashes claim. 
 
 The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame: 
 
 Should he, long honour’d with supreme command. 
 
 Want the last duties of a daughter’s hand.’— 
 
 The fiction pleased, our generous train complies. 
 
 Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue’s fair disguise. 
 
 The work she plied, but, studious of delay. 
 
 Each following night reversed the toils of day. 
 
 Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail; 
 
 The fourth her maid reveal’d th’ amazing tale. 
 
 And show’d, as unperceived we took our stand. 
 
 The backward labours of her faithless hand. 
 
 Forced, she completes it; and before us lay 
 The mingled web, whose gold and silver ray 
 Display’d the radiance of the night and day. 
 
 Just as she finish’d her illustrious toil. 
 
 Ill fortune led Ulysses to our isle. 
 
 Far in a lonely nook, beside the sea. 
 
 At an old swine-herd’s rural lodge he lay: 
 
 160 
 
 170 
 
388 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 
 Thither his son from sandy Pyle repairs, 
 
 And speedy lands, and secretly confers. 180 
 
 They plan our future ruin, and resort 
 Confederate to the city and the court. 
 
 First came the son, the father next succeeds. 
 
 Clad like a beggar, whom Eumseus leads; 
 
 Propp’d on a staff, deform’d with age and care. 
 
 And hung with rags that flutter’d in the air. 
 
 Who could Ulysses in that form behold? 
 
 Scorn’d by the young, forgotten by the old. 
 
 Ill-used by all! to every wrong resign’d, 
 
 Patient he suffer’d with a constant mind. 190 
 
 But when, arising in his wrath t’ obey 
 The will of Jove, he gave the vengeance way; , 
 
 The scatter’d arms that hung around the dome. ^ . 
 Careful he treasured in a private room: 
 
 Then to her suitors bade his queen propose 
 The archer’s strife, the source of future woes, ? 
 
 An omen of our death! In vain we drew ^ ■ 
 
 The twanging string, and tried the stubborn yew: 
 
 To none it yields but great Ulysses’ hands; 
 
 In vain we threat; Telemachus commands; 200 
 
 The bow he snatch’d, and in an instant bent; 
 
 Through every ring the victor arrow went. 
 
 Fierce on the threshold then in arms he stood, 
 
 Pour’d forth the darts that thirsted for our blood. 
 
 And frown’d before us, dreadful as a god! 
 
 First bleeds Antinoiis; thick the shafts resound. 
 
 And heaps on heaps the wretches strew the ground: 
 
 This way, and that, we turn—we fly, we fall; 
 
 Some god assisted, and unmanned us all: 
 
 Ignoble cries precede the dying groans; * 210 
 
 And batter’d brains and blood besmear the stones. 
 
 Thus, great Atrides—thus Ulysses drove 
 
 The shades thou seest, from yon fair realms above: 
 
 Our mangled bodies, now deform’d with gore. 
 
 Cold and neglected, spread the marble floor: 
 
 No friend to bathe our wounds! or tears to shed 
 O’er the pale corse! the honours of the dead.” 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 389 
 
 “Oh, bless’d Ulysses!” thus the king express’d 
 His sudden rapture, “in thy consort bless’d! 
 
 Not more thy wisdom than her virtue shined; 
 
 Not more thy patience than her constant mind. 
 Icarius’ daughter, glory of the past. 
 
 And model to the future age, shall last: 
 
 The gods, to honour her fair fame, shall raise 
 (Their great reward) a poet in her praise. 
 
 Not such, oh Tyndarus! thy daughter’s deed. 
 
 By whose dire hand her king and husband bled; 
 Her shall the Muse to infamy prolong. 
 
 Example dread, and theme of tragic song! 
 
 The general sex shall suffer in her shame. 
 
 And ev’n the best that bears a woman’s name.” 
 
 Thus, in the regions of eternal shade, 
 
 Conferr’d the mournful phantoms of the dead; 
 While, from the town, Ulysses and his band 
 Pass’d to Laertes’ cultivated land. 
 
 The ground himself had purchased with his pain, 
 And labour made the rugged soil a plain. 
 
 There stood his mansion of the rural sort. 
 
 With useful buildings round the lowly court; 
 Where the few servants that divide his care 
 
 220 
 
 230 
 
 240 
 
 Took their laborious rest, and homely fare; 
 
 And one Sicilian matron, old and sage, 
 
 With constant duty tends his drooping age. 
 
 Here now arriving, to his rustic band 
 And martial son, Ulysses gave command: 
 
 “ Enter the house, and of the bristly swine 
 Select the largest to the powers divine. 
 
 Alone, and unattended, let me try 
 If yet I share the old man’s memory: 
 
 If those dim eyes can yet Ulysses know, 2 
 
 (Their light and dearest object long ago); 
 
 Now changed with time, with absence and with wo. 
 Then to his train he gives his spear and shield; 
 
 The house they enter; and he seeks the field. 
 
 Through rows of shade, with various fruitage crown’d, 
 The labour’d scenes of richest verdure I'ound. 
 
390 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Nor aged Dolius, nor his sons were there, 
 
 Nor servants, absent on another care; 
 
 To search the woods for sets of flowery thorn. 
 
 Their orchard bounds to strengthen and adorn. 260 
 
 But all alone the hoary king he found; 
 
 His habit coarse, but warmly wrapp’d around; 
 
 His head, that bow’d with many a pensive care, 
 
 Fenced with a double cap of goatskin hair: 
 
 His buskins old, in former service torn. 
 
 But well repair’d; and gloves against the thorn. 
 
 In this array the kingly gardener stood. 
 
 And clear’d a plant, encumber’d with its wood. 
 
 Beneath a neighbouring tree, the chief divine 
 Gazed o’er his sire, retracing every line. 
 
 The ruins of himself! now worn away 
 With age, yet still majestic in decay 1 
 Sudden his eyes released their watery store; 
 
 The much-enduring man could bear no more. 
 
 Doubtful he stood, if instant to embrace 
 His aged limbs, to kiss his reverend face. 
 
 With eager transport to disclose the whole. 
 
 And pour at once the torrent of his soul— 
 
 Not so: his judgment takes the winding way 
 Of question distant, and of soft essay: 
 
 More gentle methods on weak age employs: 
 
 And moves the sorrows to enhance the joys. 
 
 Then, to his sire, with beating heart he moves. 
 
 And with a tender pleasantry reproves: 
 
 Who, digging round the plant, still hangs his head. 
 
 Nor aught remits the work, while thus he said: 
 
 “ Great is thy skill, oh father I great thy toil; 
 
 Thy careful hand is stamp’d on all the soil; 
 
 Thy squadron’d vineyards well thy art declare. 
 
 The olive green, blue fig, and pendent pear; 290 
 
 And not one empty spot escapes thy care. 
 
 On every plant and tree thy cares are shown, 
 
 Nothing neglected, but thyself alone. 
 
 270 
 
 1 
 
 280 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 391 
 
 Forgive me, father, if this fault I blame; 
 
 Age so advanced may some indulgence claim. 
 Not for thy sloth I deem thy lord unkind 
 Nor speaks thy form a mean or servile mind; 
 
 I read a monarch in that princely air, 
 
 The same thy aspect, if the same thy care; 
 
 Soft sleep, fair garments, and the joys of wine. 
 These are the rights of age, and should be thine. 
 Who then thy master,'say? and whose the land 
 So dress’d and managed by thy skilful hand? 
 
 But chief, oh, tell me! (what I question most) 
 
 Is this the far-famed Ithacensian coast? 
 
 For so reported the first man I view’d, 
 
 (Some surly islander, of manners rude,) 
 
 Nor further conference vouchsafed to stay; 
 
 Heedless he whistled, and pursued his way. 
 
 But thou, whom years have taught to understand, 310 
 Humanely hear, and answer my demand. 
 
 A friend I seek, a wise one and a brave. 
 
 Say, lives he yet, or moulders in the grave? 
 
 Time was (my fortunes then were at the best) 
 
 When at my house I lodged this foreign guest; 
 
 He said, from Ithaca’s fair isle he came, 
 
 And old Laertes was his father’s name. 
 
 To him, whatever to a guest is owed 
 I paid, and hospitable gifts bestow’d: 
 
 To him seven talents of pure ore I told, ^ 320 
 
 Twelve cloaks, twelve vests, twelve tunics stiff with gold; 
 A bowl, that rich with polish’d silver flames. 
 
 And, skill’d in female works, four lovely dames.” 
 
 At this the father, with a father’s fears 
 (His venerable eyes bedimm’d with tears): 
 
 “This is the land; but, ah! thy gifts are lost. 
 
 For godless men, and rude, possess the coast: 
 Sunk is the glory of this once-famed shore! 
 Thy ancient friend, oh stranger, is no more! 
 
f 
 
 392 the odyssey, BOOK XXIV, 
 
 Full recompense thy bounty else had borne; 
 
 For every good man yields a just return: 
 
 So civil rights demand; and who begins 
 The track of friendship, not pursuing, sins. 
 
 But tell me, stranger, be the truth confess’d, 
 
 What years have circled since thou saw’st that guest ? 
 That hapless guest, alas! for ever gone! 
 
 Wretch that he was! and that I am! my son! 
 
 If ever man to misery was born, 
 
 ’Twas his to suffer, and ’tis mine to mourn! 
 
 Far from his friends, and from his native reign, 340 
 
 He lies a prey to monsters of the main; 
 
 Or savage beasts his mangled relics tear. 
 
 Or screaming vultures scatter through the air: .. 
 
 Nor could his mother funeral unguents shed; 
 
 Nor wail’d his father o’er th’ untimely dead; 
 
 Nor his sad consort, on the mournful bier. 
 
 Seal’d his cold eyes, or dropp’d a tender tear! 
 
 But, tell me who thou art? and what thy race? 
 
 Thy town, thy parents, and thy native place ?^ 
 
 Or, if a merchant in pursuit of gain, 350 
 
 What port received thy vessel from the main? 
 
 Or com’st thou single, or attend thy train?” 
 
 Then thus the son: “From Alybas I came. 
 
 My palace there: Eperitus my name. 
 
 Not vulgar born; from Aphidas, the king 
 Of Polyphemon’s royal line, I spring. 
 
 Some adverse demon from Sicania bore 
 
 Our wandering course, and drove us on your shore; 
 
 Far from the town, an unfrequented bay 
 Relieved our wearied vessel from the sea. 3G0 
 
 Five years have circled since these eyes pursued 
 Ulysses parting through the sable flood; 
 
 Prosperous he sail’d, with dexter auguries. 
 
 And all the wing’d good omens of the skies; 
 
 Well hoped we then to meet on this fair shore. 
 
 Whom Heaven, alas! decreed to meet no more.” 
 
 I 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 393 
 
 Quick through the father’s heart these accents ran; 
 Grief seized at once, and wrapp’d up all the man: 
 Deep from his soul he sigh’d, and sorrowing spread 
 A cloud of ashes'on his hoary head. 
 
 Trembling with agonies of strong delight 
 
 Stood the great son, heart-wounded with the sight; 
 
 He ran, he seized him with a strict embiace. 
 
 With thousand kisses wander’d o’er his face: 
 
 “ I, I am he; oh father, rise! behold 
 Thy son, with twenty winters now grown old; 
 
 Thy son, so long desired, so long detain d. 
 
 Restored, and breathing in his native land;^ 
 
 These floods of sorrow, oh, my sire, restrain! 
 
 The vengeance is complete; the suitor-train, ^ ^ 
 Stretch’d in our palace, by these hands lie slain.” 
 
 Amazed Laertes: “Give some certain sign 
 (If such thou art) to manifest thee mine.” 
 
 “Lo, here the wound,”' he cries, “received of yore. 
 The scar indented by the tusky boar. 
 
 When, by thyself and by Anticlea sent, 
 
 To old- Autolychus’s realms I went. 
 
 Yet by another sign thy offspring know; 
 
 The several trees you gave me long ago. 
 
 While, yet a child, these fields I loved to trace. 
 
 And trod thy footsteps with unequal pace; 
 
 To every plant in order as we came. 
 
 Well pleased, you told its nature and its name; 
 Whate’er my childish fancy ask’d, bestow’d; 
 
 Twelve pear-trees, bowing with their pendent load. 
 And ten, that red with blushing apples glow’d; 
 
 Full fifty purple figs; and many a row 
 Of various vines that then began to blow. 
 
 A future vintage 1 when the Hours produce 
 Their latent buds, and Sol exalts the juice.” 
 
 Smit with the signs which all his doubts explain, 
 His heart within him melts; his knees sustain 
 
 370 
 
 380 
 
 390 
 
 400 
 
 17 # 
 
394 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Their feeble weight no more: his arms alone 
 Support him, round the loved Ulysses thrown: 
 
 He faints, he sinks, with mighty joys oppress’d: 
 Ulysses clasps him to his eager breast. 
 
 Soon as returning life regains its seat. 
 
 And his breath lengthens, and his pulses beat: 
 
 “Yes, I believe,” he cries, “almighty Jove! 
 Heaven rules as yet, and gods there are above. 
 
 ’Tis so: the suitors for their wrongs have paid! 
 
 But what shall guard us, if the town invade? 
 
 If, while the news through every city flies. 
 
 All Ithaca and Cephallenia rise?” 
 
 To this Ulysses: “As the gods shall please 
 Be all the rest; and set thy soul at ease. 
 
 Haste to the cottage by this orchard’s side, 
 
 And take the banquet which our cares provide: 
 There wait thy faithful band of rural friends. 
 
 And there the young Telemachus attends.” 
 
 Thus having said, they traced the garden o’er. 
 And stooping enter’d at a lowly door. 
 
 The swains and young Telemachus they found. 
 
 The victim portion’d, and the goblet crown’d. 
 
 The hoary king, his old Sicilian maid 
 Perfumed and wash’d, and gorgeously array’d. 
 Pallas attending, gives his frame to shine 
 With awful port, and majesty divine; 
 
 His gazing son admires the godlike grace 
 And air celestial dawning o’er his face. 
 
 “What god,” he cried, “my father’s form improves? 
 How high he treads, and how enlarged he moves!” 
 
 “Oh! would to all the deathless powers on high, 
 Pallas and Jove, and him who gilds the sky!” 
 Replied the king, elated with his praise, 
 
 “My strength were still, as once in better days. 
 When the bold Cephallens the leaguer form’d. 
 
 And proud Nericus trembled as I storm’d. 
 
TPIE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 395 
 
 Such were I now, not absent from your deed 
 
 When the last sun beheld the suitors bleed, 440 
 
 This arm had aided yours, this hand bestrown 
 
 Our floors with death, and push’d the slaughter on; 
 
 Nor had the sire been separate from the son.” 
 
 They communed thus; while homeward bent their way 
 The swains fatigued with labours of the day: 
 
 Dolius the first, the venerable man; 
 
 And next his sons, a long succeeding train. 
 
 For due refection to the bower they came. 
 
 Call’d by the careful old Sicilian dame. 
 
 Who nursed the children, and now tends the sire: 450 
 
 They see their lord, they gaze, and they admire. 
 
 On chairs and beds, in order seated round. 
 
 They share the gladsome board; the roofs resound. 
 
 While thus Ulysses to his ancient friend: 
 
 “Forbear your wonder, and the feast attend: 
 
 The rites have waited long.”—The chief commands 
 Their loves in vain; old Dolius spreads his hands. 
 
 Springs to his master with a warm embrace. 
 
 And fastens kisses on his hands and face; 
 
 Then thus broke out: “Oh long, oh daily mourn’d! 460 
 Beyond our hopes, and to our wish return’d! 
 
 Conducted sure by Heaven! for Heaven alone 
 Could work this wonder; welcome to thy own! 
 
 And joys and happiness attend thy throne! 
 
 Who knows thy bless’d, thy wish’d return? Oh! say. 
 
 To the chaste queen shall we the news convey? 
 
 Or hears she, and with blessings loads the day?” 
 
 “Dismiss that care, for to the royal bride 
 Already is it known,” the king replied. 
 
 And straight resumed his seat; while round him bows 470 
 Each faithful youth, and breathes out ardent vows: 
 
 Then all beneath their father take their place. 
 
 Rank’d by their ages, and the banquet grace. 
 
 Now flying Fame the swift report had spread 
 Through all the city, of the suitors dead. 
 
396 the odyssey, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 In throngs they rise, and to the palace crowd; 
 
 Their sighs were many, and the tumult loud. 
 
 Weeping they bear the mangled heaps of slain. 
 
 Inhume the natives in their native plain. 
 
 The rest in ships are wafted o’er the main. 480 
 
 Then sad in council all the seniors sate, 
 
 Frequent and full, assembled to debate: 
 
 Amid the circle first Eupithes rose. 
 
 Big was his eye with tears, his heart with woes: 
 
 The bold Antinoiis was his age’s pride. 
 
 The first who by Ulysses’ arrow died. 
 
 Down his wan cheek the trickling torrent ran, 
 
 As mixing words with sighs he thus began: 
 
 “Great deeds, oh friends! this wondrous man has wrought. 
 And mighty blessings to his country brought! > 490 
 
 With ships he parted, and a numerous train. 
 
 Those, and their ships, he buried in the main. 
 
 Now he returns, and first essays his hand 
 In the best blood of all his native land. 
 
 Haste then, and ere to neighbouring Pyle he flies. 
 
 Or sacred Elis, to procure supplies; 
 
 Arise—or ye for ever fall—arise! 
 
 Shame to this age, and all that shall succeed. 
 
 If unrevenged your sons and brothers bleed. 
 
 Prove that we live, by vengeance on his head, 500 
 
 Or sink at once forgotten with the dead.” 
 
 Here ceased he: but indignant tears let fall 
 Spoke when he ceased: dumb sorrow touch’d them all. 
 When from the palace to the wondering throng 
 Sage Medon came, and Phemius came along. 
 
 (Restless and early sleep’s soft bands they broke;) 
 
 And Medon first th’ assembled chiefs bespoke: 
 
 “Hear me, ye peers and elders of the land. 
 
 Who deem this act the work of mortal hand; 
 
 As o’er the heaps of death Ulysses strode, 510 
 
 These eyes, these eyes, beheld a present god. 
 
 Who now before him, now beside him stood. 
 
 Fought as he fought, and mark’d his way with blood; 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 397 
 
 In vain old Mentor’s form the god belied; ^ 
 
 ’Twas Heaven that struck, and Heaven was on his side.” 
 
 A sudden horror all th’ assembly shook, 
 
 When, slowly rising, Halitherses spoke: 
 
 (Reverend and wise, whose comprehensive view 
 At once the present and the future knew:) 
 
 “Me too, ye fathers, hear! from you proceed 520 
 
 The ills ye mourn; your own the guilty deed. 
 
 Ye gave your sons, your lawless sons, the rein; 
 
 (Oft warn’d by Mentor and myself in vain;) 
 
 An absent hero’s bed they sought to soil. 
 
 An absent hero’s wealth they made their spoil; 
 Immoderate riot, and intemperate lust! 
 
 Th’ offence was great, the punishment was just. 
 
 Weigh then my counsels with an equal scale. 
 
 Nor rush to ruin. Justice will prevail.” 
 
 His moderate words some better minds persuade: 530 
 They part, and join him; but the number stay’d. 
 
 They storm, they shout, with hasty phrensy fired. 
 
 And second all Eupithes’ rage inspired. 
 
 They case their limbs in brass; to arms they run; 
 
 The broad effulgence blazes in the sun. 
 
 Before the city, and in ample plain, 
 
 They meet: Eupithes heads the frantic train. 
 
 Fierce for his son, he breathes his threats in air; 
 
 Fate hears them not, and Death attends him there. 
 
 This pass’d on earth; while in the realms above 540 
 Minerva thus to cloud-compelling Jove: 
 
 “May I presume to search thy secret soul? 
 
 Oh, Power supreme! oh. Ruler of the whole! 
 
 Say, hast thou doom’d to this divided state 
 Or peaceful amity, or stern debate? 
 
 Declare thy purpose, for thy will is fate.” 
 
 “Is not thy thought my own?” the god replies 
 Who rolls the thunder o’er the vaulted skies; 
 
 “Hath not long since thy knowing soul decreed. 
 
 The chief’s return should make the guilty bleed? 550 
 ’Tis done, and at thy will the Fates succeed. 
 
398 
 
 THE ODYSSEY, BOOK XXIV. 
 
 Yet hear the issue: since Ulysses’ hand 
 
 Has slain the suitors, Heaven shall bless the land. 
 
 None now the kindred of th’ unjust shall own; 
 
 Forgot the slaughter’d brother and the son: 
 
 Each future day increase of wealth shall bring, 
 
 And o’er the past Oblivion stretch her wing. ^ 
 
 Long shall Ulysses in his empire rest, 
 
 His people blessing, by his people bless’d: 
 
 Let all be peace.”—He said, and gave the nod 560 
 
 That binds the Fates; the sanction of the god: 
 
 And prompt to execute th’ eternal will. 
 
 Descended Pallas from th’ Olympian hill. 
 
 Now sat Ulysses at the rural feast. 
 
 The rage of hunger and of thirst repress’d: • 
 
 To watch the foe a trusty spy he sent; ^ 
 
 A son of Dolius on the message went. 
 
 Stood in the way, and at a glance beheld 
 The foe approach, embattled on the field. 
 
 With backward step he hastens to the bower, 570 
 
 And tells the news. They arm with all their power. 
 
 Four friends alone Ulysses’ cause embrace. 
 
 And six were all the sons of Dolius’ race: 
 
 Old Dolius too his rusted arms put on; 
 
 And, still more old, in arms Laertes shone. 
 
 Trembling with warmth, the hoary heroes stand, 
 
 And brazen panoply invests the band. 
 
 The opening gates at once their war display: 
 
 Fierce they rush forth: Ulysses leads the way. 
 
 That moment joins them with celestial aid, 580 
 
 In Mentor’s form, the Jove-descended maid: 
 
 The suffering hero felt his patient breast 
 Swell with new joy, and thus his son address’d: 
 
 “Behold, Telemachus!—nor fear the sight— 
 
 The brave embattled, the grim front of fight! 
 
 The valiant with the valiant must contend: 
 
 Shame not the line whence glorious you descend. 
 
THE ODYSSEY BOOK XXIV. 
 
 399 
 
 Wide o’er the world their martial fame was spread ;Hi 
 Regard thyself, the living, and the dead.” 
 
 “ Thy eyes, great father! on this battle cast, 590 
 
 Shall learn from me Penelop6 was chaste.” 
 
 So spoke Telemachus! the gallant boy. 
 
 Good old Laertes heard with panting joy; 
 
 And “Bless’d, thrice bless’d, this happy day!” he cries; 
 
 “ The day that shows me, ere I close my eyes, 
 
 A son and grandson of the Arcesian name 
 Strive for fair virtue, and contest for fame 1” 
 
 Then thus Minerva in Laertes’ ear: 
 
 “Son of Arcesius, reverend warrior, hear! 
 
 Jove and Jove’s daughter first implore in prayer, 600 
 Then, whirling high, discharge thy lance in air.” 
 
 She said, infusing courage with the word. 
 
 Jove and Jove’s daughter then the chief implored; 
 
 And, whirling high, dismiss’d the lance in air. 
 
 Full at Eupithes drove the deathful spear: 
 
 The brass-cheek’d helmet opens to the wound; 
 
 He falls, earth thunders, and his arms resound. 
 
 Before the father and the conquering son 
 Heaps rush on heaps, tbey fight, they drop, they run. 610 
 Now by the sword, and now the javelin fall 
 The rebel race, and death had swallow’d all. 
 
 But from on high the blue-eyed virgin cried; 
 
 Her awful voice detain’d the headlong tide: 
 
 “Forbear, ye nations! your mad hands forbear 
 From mutual slaughter! Peace descends to spare.” 
 
 Fear shook the nations: at the voice divine 
 They drop their javelins, and their rage resign. 
 
 All scatter’d round their glittering weapons lie; 
 
 Some fall to earth, and some confus’dly fly. 
 
 With dreadful shouts Ulysses pour’d along, 620 
 
 Swift as an eagle, as an eagle strong. 
 
 But Jove’s red arm the burning thunder aims; 
 
 Before Minerva shot the livid flames; 
 
1 
 
 400 the odyssey, book XXIV. 
 
 Blazing they fell, and at her feet expired; 
 
 Then stopp’d the goddess, trembled, and retired. 
 
 “Descended from the gods! Ulysses, cease! 
 Offend not Jove, obey, and give the peace.” 
 
 So Pallas spoke: the mandate from above 
 The king obey’d. The virgin-seed of Jove, 
 
 In Mentor’s form, confirm’d the full accord, 
 
 And willing nations knew their lawful lord. 
 

 POSTSCRIPT, BY MR. POPE. 
 
 I CANNOT dismiss this work without a few observations 
 on the character and style of it. Whoever reads the 
 Odyssey with an eye to the Iliad, expecting to find it of 
 the same character or of the same sort of spirit, will be 
 grievously deceived, and err against the first principle of 
 criticism, which is, to consider the nature of the piece, 
 and the intent of its author. The Odyssey is a moral and 
 political work, instructive to all degrees of men, and filled 
 with images, examples, and precepts of civil and domestic 
 life. Homer is here a person, 
 
 Qui didicit, patrics quid debeat, et quid mnicis, 
 
 Quo sit amore parens, qao frater amandus, et hospes: 
 
 Qui quid sit pulcrum quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, 
 
 Plenius et melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 
 
 The Odyssey is the reverse of the Iliad, in moral, subject, 
 manner and style; to which it has no sort of relation, but 
 as the story happens to follow in order of time, and as 
 some of the same persons are actors in it. Yet from this 
 incidental connection, many have been misled to regard it 
 as a continuation or second part, and thence to expect a 
 parity of character inconsistent with its nature. 
 
 It is no wonder that the common reader should fall into 
 this mistake, when so great a critic as Longinus seems not 
 wholly free from it; although what he has said, has been 
 generally understood to import a severer censure of the 
 Odyssey than it really does, if we consider the occasion 
 on which it is introduced, and the circumstances to which 
 it is confined. 
 
 “The Odyssey,” says he, “is an instance how natural it 
 is to a great genius, when it begins to grow old and decline, 
 
 A A 
 
402 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 to delight itself in narrations and fables. For that Homer 
 composed the Odyssey after the Iliad, many proofs may be 
 given,” &c. “From hence, in my judgment, it proceeds, 
 that as the Iliad was written while his spirit was in its 
 greatest vigour, the whole structure of that work is dra¬ 
 matic, and full of action; whereas the greater part of the 
 Odyssey is employed in narration, which is the taste of old 
 age: so that in this latter piece we may compare him to 
 the setting sun, which has still the same greatness, but not 
 the same ardour or force. He speaks not in the same 
 strain; we see no more that sublime of the Iliad, which 
 marches on with a constant pace, without ever being 
 stopped or retarded: there appears no more that hurry, 
 and that strong tide of motions and passions, pouring one 
 after another: there is no more the same fury, or the same 
 volubility of diction, so suitable to action, and all along 
 drawing in such innumerable images of nature. But 
 Homer, like the ocean, is always great, even when he 
 ebbs and retires; even when he is lowest, and loses him¬ 
 self most in narrations and incredible fictions: as instances 
 of this, we cannot forget the descriptions of tempests, the 
 adventures of Ulysses with the Cyclops, and many others. 
 But though all this be age, it is the age of Homer.—And it 
 may be said, for the credit of these fictions, that they are 
 beautiful dreams, or, if you will, the dreams of Jupiter 
 himself. I spoke of the Odyssey, only to show that the 
 greatest poets, when their genius wants strength and 
 warmth for the pathetic, for the most part employ them¬ 
 selves in painting the manners. This Homer has done in 
 characterizing the suitors, and describing their way of life; 
 which is properly a branch of comedy, whose peculiar 
 business it is to represent the manners of men.” 
 
 We must first observe, it is the sublime of which Longi¬ 
 nus is writing: that, and not the nature of Homer’s poem, 
 is his subject. After having highly extolled the sublimity 
 and fire of the Iliad, he justly observes the Odyssey to 
 have less of those qualities, and to turn more on the side 
 of moral, and reflections on human life. Nor is it his 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 403 
 
 business here to determine, whether the elevated spirit of 
 the one, or the just moral of the other, be the greater 
 
 excellence in itself. 
 
 Secondly, that fire and fury of which he is speaking, 
 cannot well be meant of the general spirit and inspiration 
 which is to run through a whole epic poem, but of that 
 particular warmth and impetuosity necessary in some 
 parts, to image or represent actions or passions, of haste, 
 tumult, and violence. It is on occasions of citing some 
 such particular passages in Homer, that Longinus breaks 
 into this reflection; which seems to determine his meaning 
 chiefly to that sense. 
 
 Upon the whole, he affirms the Odyssey to have less 
 sublimity and fire than the Iliad, but he does not say it 
 wants the sublime or wants fire. He affirms it to be 
 narrative, but not that the narration is defective. He 
 affirms it to abound in fictions, not that those fictions aie 
 ill invented or ill executed. He affirms it to be nice 
 and particular in painting the manners, but not that those 
 manners are ill painted. If Homer has fully in these 
 points accomplished his own design, and done all that the 
 nature of his poem demanded or allowed, it still remains 
 perfect in its kind, and as much a master-piece as the Iliad. 
 
 The amount of the passage is this: that in his own par¬ 
 ticular taste, and with respect to the sublime, Longinus 
 preferred the Iliad: and because the Odyssey was less 
 active and lofty, he judged it the work of the old age of 
 
 Homer. , tt » 
 
 If this opinion be true, it will only prove, that Homei s 
 
 age might determine him in the choice of his subject, not 
 that it affected him in the execution of it; and that which 
 would be a very wrong instance to prove the decay of his 
 imagination, is a very good one to evince the strength of 
 his judgment. For had he (as Madame Dacier observed) 
 composed the Odyssey in his youth, and the Iliad in his 
 age, both must in reason have been exactly the same as 
 they now stand. To blame Homer for his choice of such 
 a subject, as did not admit the same incidents and the same 
 
404 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 k 
 
 pomp of style as his former, is to take offence at too much 
 variety, and to imagine that when a man has written one 
 good thing, he must ever after only copy himself. 
 
 The ‘Battle of Constantine,’ and the ‘School of Athens,’ 
 are both pieces of Raphael: Shall we censure the ‘School 
 of Athens’ as faulty, because it has not the fury and fire 
 of the other? or shall we say that Raphael was grown 
 grave and old, because he chose to represent the manners 
 of old men and philosophers? There is all the silence, 
 tranquillity, and composure in the one, and all the warmth 
 hurry, and tumult in the other, which the subject of either 
 required: both of them had been imperfect, if they had not 
 been as they are. And let the poet or painter be young or 
 old, who designs or performs in this manner, it proves him 
 to have made the piece at a time of life when he was 
 master not only of his art, but of his discretion. 
 
 Aristotle makes no such distinction between the two 
 poems: he constantly cites them with equal praise, and 
 draws the rules and examples of epic writing equally 
 from both. But it is rather to the Odyssey that Horace 
 gives the preference, in the Epistle to Lollius, and in the 
 Art of Poetry. It is remarkable how opposite his opinion 
 is to that of Longinus: and that the particulars he chooses 
 to extol, are those very fictions and pictures of the man¬ 
 ners, which the other seems least to approve. Those 
 fables and manners are the very essence of the work: 
 but even without that regard, the fables themselves have 
 both more invention and more instruction, and the manners 
 more moral and example, than those of the Iliad. 
 
 In some points (and those the most essential to the epic 
 poem) the Odyssey is confessed to excel the Iliad; and 
 principally in the great end of it, the moral. The conduct, 
 turn, and disposition of the fable is also what the critics 
 allow to be the better model for epic writers to follow; 
 accordingly we find much more of the cast of this poem 
 than of the other in the iEneid, and (w^hat next to that 
 is perhaps the greatest example) in the Telemachus. 
 In the manners, it is no way inferior: Longinus is so far 
 
 \ 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 405 
 
 from finding any defect in these, that he rather taxes 
 Homer with painting them too minutely. As to the nar- 
 rations, although they are more numerous as the occasions 
 are more frequent, yet they carry no more the marks ot 
 old age, and are neither more prolix, nor more circum¬ 
 stantial, than the conversations and dialogues of the Iliad. 
 Not to mention the length of those of Phoenix in the nint 
 book, and of Nestor in the eleventh (which may be thought 
 in compliance to their characters), those of Glaucus in the 
 sixth, of iEneas in the twentieth, and some others, must 
 be allowed to exceed any in the whole Odyssey. And 
 that the propriety of style, and the numbers, m the 
 narrations of each are equal, will appear to any who 
 
 compare them. ^ 
 
 To form a right judgment, whether the pnius of Homer 
 
 had suffered any decay; we must consider, m both his 
 poems, such parts as are of a similar nature, and will bear 
 comparison. And it is certain we shall find in each the 
 same vivacity and fecundity of invention, the same h e 
 and strength of imagining and colouring, the particuai 
 descriptions as highly painted, the figures as bold, the 
 metaphors as animated, and the numbers as harmonious 
 
 and as various. 
 
 The Odyssey is a perpetual source of poetry: the stream 
 is not the less full for being gentle; though it is true (when 
 we speak only with regard to the sublime) that a river, 
 foaming and thundering in cataracts from rocks and preci- 
 pices is what more strikes amaze, and fills the mind, than 
 the same body of water, flowing afterwards through peace- 
 fill vales and agreeable scenes of pasturage. 
 
 The Odyssey, as I have before said, ought to be con¬ 
 sidered according to its own nature and design, not with 
 an eve to the Iliad. To censure Homer, because it is 
 unlike what it was never meant to resemble, is as it a 
 gardener, who had purposely cultivated two beautiful 
 trees of contrary natures, as a specimen of his skill in t e 
 several kinds, should be blamed for not bringing them into 
 pairs; when in root, stem, leaf, and flower, each was so 
 
406 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 entirely different, that one must have been spoiled, in the 
 endeavour to match the other. 
 
 Longinus, who saw this poem was “partly of the nature 
 of comedy,” ought not, for that very reason, to have con¬ 
 sidered it with a view to the Iliad. How little any such 
 resemblance was the intention of Homer, may appear 
 from hence, that, although the character of Ulysses was 
 there already drawn, yet here he purposely turns to 
 another side of it, and shows him not in that full light of 
 glory, but in the shade of common life, with a mixture of 
 such qualities as are requisite to all the lowest accidents 
 of it, struggling with misfortunes, and on a level with the 
 meanest of mankind. As for the other persons, none of 
 them are above what we call the higher comedy: Calypso, 
 though a goddess, is a character of intrigue. The suitors 
 yet more approaching to it; the Pheeacians are of the same 
 cast; the Cyclops, Melanthius, and Irus, descend even to 
 droll characters; and the scenes that appear throughout 
 are generally of the comic kind; banquets, revels, sports, 
 loves, and the pursuit of a woman. 
 
 From the nature of the poem, we shall form an idea of 
 the style. The diction is to follow the images, and to take 
 its colour from the complexion of the thoughts. Accord¬ 
 ingly the Odyssey is not always clothed in the majesty of 
 verse proper to tragedy, but sometimes descends into the 
 plainer narrative, and sometimes even to that familiar 
 dialogue essential to comedy. However, where it cannot 
 support a sublimity, it always preserves a dignity, or at 
 least a propriety. 
 
 There is a real beauty in an easy, pure, perspicuous 
 description, even of a low action. There are numerous 
 instances of this both in Homer and Virgil: and perhaps 
 those natural passages are not the least pleasing of their 
 works. It is often the same in history, where the repre¬ 
 sentations of common, or even domestic things, in clear, 
 plain, and natural words, are frequently found to make the 
 liveliest impression on the reader. 
 
 The question is, how far a poet, in pursuing the descrip- 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 407 
 
 tioii or image of an action, can attach himself to little cir¬ 
 cumstances, without vulgarity or trifling? what particulars 
 are proper, and enliven the image; or what are imperti¬ 
 nent, and clog it? In this matter painting is to be con¬ 
 sulted, and the whole regard had to those circumstances 
 which contribute to form a full, and yet not a confused, 
 idea of a thing. 
 
 Epithets are of vast service to this effect, and the right 
 use of these is often the only expedient to render the nar¬ 
 ration poetical. 
 
 The great point of judgment is to distinguish when to 
 speak simply, and when figuratively: but whenever the 
 poet is obliged by the nature of his subject to descend to 
 the lower manner of writing, an elevated style would be 
 affected, and therefore ridiculous; and the more he was 
 forced upon figures and metaphors to avoid that lowness, the 
 more the image would be broken, and consequently obscure. 
 
 One may add, that the use of the grand style on little 
 subjects, is not only ludicrous, but a sort of transgression 
 against the rules of proportion and mechanics: it is using 
 a vast force to lift a feather. 
 
 I believe, now I am upon this head, it will be found a 
 just observation, that the low actions of life cannot be put 
 into a figurative style, without being ridiculous; but things 
 natural can. Metaphors raise the latter into dignity, as 
 we see in the Georgies; but throw the former into ridicule 
 as in the Lutrin. I think this may very well be accounted 
 for: laughter implies censure; inanimate and irrational 
 beings are not objects of censure, therefore they may be 
 elevated as much as you please, and no ridicule follows: 
 but when rational beings are represented above their real 
 character, it becomes ridiculous in art, because it is vicious 
 in morality. The bees in Virgil, were they rational beings, 
 would be ridiculous by having their actions and manners 
 represented on a level with creatures so superior as men; 
 since it would imply folly or pride, which are the proper 
 objects of ridicule. 
 
 The use of pompous expressions for low actions or 
 
408 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 thoughts, is the true sublime of Don Quixote. How far 
 unfit it is for epic poetry, appears in its being the per¬ 
 fection of the mock epic. It is so far from being the 
 sublime of tragedy^ that it is the cause of all bombast, 
 when poets, instead of being (as they imagine) constantly 
 lofty, only preserve throughout a painful equality of fustian; 
 that continued swell of language (which runs indiscrimi¬ 
 nately even through their lowest characters, and rattles 
 like some mightiness of meaning in the most indifferent 
 subjects) is of a piece with that perpetual elevation of tone 
 which the players have learned from it; and which is not 
 speaking, but vociferating. 
 
 There is still more reason for a variation of style in 
 epic poetry than in tragic, to distinguish between that 
 language of the gods proper to the muse who sings, and 
 is inspired; and that of men, who are introduced speaking 
 only according to nature. Farther, there ought to be a 
 difference of style observed in the speeches of human 
 persons, and those of deities; and again, in those which 
 may be called set harangues or orations, and those which 
 are only conversation and dialogue. Homer has more of 
 the latter than any other poet; what Virgil does by two or 
 three words of narration, Homer still performs by speeches: 
 not only replies, but even rejoinders, are frequent in him, 
 a practice almost unknown to Virgil. This renders his 
 poems more animated, but less grave and majestic; and 
 consequently necessitates the frequent use of a lower style. 
 The writers of tragedy lie under the same necessity if 
 they would copy nature; whereas that painted and poeti¬ 
 cal diction which they perpetually use, would be improper 
 even in orations designed to move with all the arts of 
 rhetoric: this is plain from the practice of Demosthenes 
 and Cicero; and Virgil, in those of Drances and Turnus, 
 gives an eminent example, how far removed the style of 
 them ought to be from such an excess of figures and 
 ornaments: which indeed fits only that language of the 
 gods we have been speaking of, or that of a muse under 
 inspiration. 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 409 
 
 To read through a whole work in this strain, is like 
 travelling all along the ridge of a hill, which is not half 
 so agreeable as sometimes gradually to rise, and sometimes 
 gently to descend, as the way leads, and as the end of the 
 
 journey directs. • • j 
 
 Indeed, the true reason that so few poets have imitated 
 
 Homer in these lower parts, has been the extreme difficulty 
 of preserving that mixture of ease and dignity essential to 
 them. For it is as hard for an epic poem to stoop to the 
 narrative with success, as for a prince to descend to be 
 familiar, without diminution to his greatness. ^ 
 
 The sublime style is more easily counterfeited than the 
 natural: something that passes for it, or sounds like it, is 
 common in all false writers: but nature, purity, perspicuity, 
 and simplicity, never walk in the clouds; they are obvious 
 to all capacities, and where they are not evident, they do 
 
 not exist.' , - , , 
 
 The most plain narration not only admits of these, and 
 
 of harmony (which are all the qualities of style), but it 
 requires every one of them to render it pleasing. n t e 
 contrary, whatever pretends to a share of the sublime, 
 may pass, notwithstanding any defects in the rest; nay, 
 sometimes without any of them, and gain the admiration 
 
 of all ordinary readers. 
 
 Homer, in his lowest narrations or speeches, is ever easy, 
 flowing, copious, clear, and harmonious. He shows not 
 less invention, in assembling the humbler, than the greater 
 thoughts and images: nor less judgment in proportioning 
 the style, and the versification to these, than to the other. 
 Let it be remembered, that the same genius that soared 
 the highest, and from whom the greatest models oi the 
 sublime are derived, was also he who stooped the lowest, 
 and gave to the simple .narrative its utmost perfection. 
 Which of these was the harder task to Homer himse , 
 cannot pretend to determine; but to his fanslator I can 
 affirm (however unequal all his imitatnms must be) that 
 of the latter has been much the more difficult. ^ 
 
 Whoever expects here the same pomp o veise, an 
 18 
 
410 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 
 same ornaments of diction, as in the Iliad, he will, and he 
 ought to be, disappointed. Were the original otherwise, 
 it had been an offence against nature; and were the trans¬ 
 lation so, it were an offence against Homer, which is the 
 same thing. 
 
 It must be allowed that there is a majesty and harmony 
 in the Greek language, which greatly contribute to elevate 
 and support the narration. But I must also observe, that 
 this is an advantage grown upon the language since Ho- 
 mer^s time: for things are removed from vulgarity by being 
 out of use; and if the words we could find in any present 
 language were equally sonorous or musical in themselves, 
 they would still appear less poetical and uncommon than 
 those of a dead one, from this only circumstance, of being 
 in every man’s mouth. I may add to this anothejr disad¬ 
 vantage to a translator, from a different cause: Homer 
 seems to have taken upon him the character of an historian, 
 antiquary, divine, and professor of arts and sciences, as 
 well as a poet. In one or other of these characters, he 
 descends into many particularities which, as a poet only, 
 perhaps he would have avoided. All these ought to be 
 preserved by a faithful translator, who in some measure 
 takes the place of Homer; and all that can be expected from 
 him is to make them as poetical as the subject will bear. 
 Many arts, therefore, are requisite to supply these disad¬ 
 vantages, in order to dignify and solemnize these plainer 
 parts, which hardly admit of any poetical ornaments. 
 
 Some use has been made to this end of the style of 
 Milton. A just and moderate mixture of old words may 
 have an effect like the working of old abbey stones into a 
 building, which I have sometimes seen to give a kind of 
 venerable air, and yet not destroy the neatness, elegance, 
 and equality, requisite to a new work; I mean, without 
 rendering it too unfamiliar, or remote from the present 
 purity of writing, or from that ease and smoothness which 
 ought always to accompany narration or dialogue. In 
 leading a style judiciously antiquated, one finds a pleasure 
 not unlike that of travelling on an old Roman way: but 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 411 
 
 then the road must be as good as the way is ancient; the 
 style must be such in which we may evenly proceed, with¬ 
 out being put to short stops by sudden abruptnesses, or 
 puzzled by frequent turnings and transpositions. No man 
 delights in furrows and stumbling-blocks: and let our love 
 to antiquity bfe ever so great, a fine ruin is one thing, and 
 a heap of rubbish another. The imitators of Milton, like 
 most other imitators, are not copies, but caricatures of their 
 original; they are a hundred times more obsolete and 
 cramp than he, and equally so in all places: whereas it 
 should have been observed of Milton, that he is not lavish 
 of his exotic words and phrases every where alike, but 
 employs them much more where the subject is marvellous, 
 vast, and strange, as in the scenes of heaven, hell, chaos, 
 &c., than where it is turned to the natural and agreeable, 
 as in the pictures of paradise, the loves of our first parents, 
 entertainments of angels, and the like. In general, this 
 unusual style better serves to awaken our ideas in the 
 descriptions and in the imaging and picturesque parts, 
 than it agrees with the lower sort of narrations, the 
 character of which is simplicity and purity. Milton has 
 several of the latter, where we find not an antiquated, 
 affected, or uncouth word, for some hundred lines together; 
 as in his fifth book, the latter part of the eighth, the former 
 of the tenth and eleventh books, and in the narration ot 
 IVJichael in the twelfth. I wonder indeed that he, who 
 ventured (contrary to the practice of all other epic poets) 
 to imitate Homer’s lownesses in the narrative, should not 
 also have copied his plainness and perspicuity in the dra¬ 
 matic parts: since in his speeches (where clearness, above 
 all, is necessary) there is frequently such transposition and 
 forced construction, that the very sense is not to be dis¬ 
 covered without a second' or third reading, and in this 
 certainly he ought to be no example. 
 
 To preserve the true character of Homer’s style in the 
 present translation, great pains have been taken to be easy 
 and natural. The chief merit I can pretend to, is, not to 
 
412. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 have been carried into a more plausible and figurative 
 manner of writing, which would better have pleased all 
 readers, but the judicious ones. My errors had been fewer, 
 had each of those gentlemen who joined with me shown 
 as much of the severity of a friend to me, as I did to them, 
 in a strict animadversion and correction. What assistance 
 I received from them, was made known in general to the 
 public, in the original proposals for this work, and the par¬ 
 ticulars are specified at the conclusion of it; to which I 
 must add (to be punctually just) some part of the tenth and 
 fifteenth books. The reader will now be too good a judge 
 how much the greater part of it, and consequently of its 
 faults, is chargeable upon me alone. But this I can with 
 integrity affirm, that I have bestowed as much time and 
 pains upon the whole, as were consistent with the indis¬ 
 pensable duties and cares of life, and with that wretched 
 state of health which God has been pleased to make my 
 portion. At the least, it is a pleasure to me to reflect, that 
 I have introduced into our language this other work of the 
 greatest and the most ancient of poets, with some dignity; 
 and I hope with as little disadvantage as the Iliad. And 
 if, after the unmerited success of that translation, any one 
 will wonder why I would enterprise the Odyssey, I think 
 it sufficient to say, that Homer himself did the same, or 
 the world would never have seen it. 
 
 I designed to have ended this postscript here: but since 
 I am now taking my leave of Homer, and of all contro¬ 
 versy relating to him, I beg leave to be indulged, if I 
 make use of this last opportunity to say a very few words 
 about some reflections which the late Madame Dacier 
 bestowed on the first part of my Preface to the Iliad, and 
 which she published at the end of her translation of that 
 poem.* 
 
 To write gravely an answer to them, would be too much 
 for the reflections; and to say nothing concerning them, 
 would be too little for the author. It is owing to the 
 
 ^ Second© edition, h Paris, 1719. 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 413 
 
 industry of that learned lady, that our polite neighbours are 
 become acquainted with many of Homer’s beauties, which 
 were hidden from them before in Greek and in Eustathius. 
 She challenges on this account a particular regard from 
 all the admirers of that great poet; and I hope that I shall 
 be thought, as I mean, to pay some part of this debt to her 
 memory, in what I am now writing. 
 
 Had these reflections fallen from the pen of an ordinary 
 critic, I should not have apprehended their effect, and should 
 therefore have been silent concerning them: but since they 
 are Madame Dacier’s, I imagine that they must be of 
 weight; and in a case where I think her reasoning veiy 
 bad, I respect her authority. 
 
 I have fought under Madame Dacier’s banner, and have 
 waged war in defence of the divine Homer against all the 
 heretics of the age. And yet it is Madame Dacier who 
 accuses me, and who accuses me of nothing less than be¬ 
 traying our common cause. She affirms that the most 
 declared enemies of this author have never said any thing 
 against him more injurious or more unjust than I. W^hat 
 must the world think of me, after such a judgment passed 
 by so great a critic; the world, who decides so often, and 
 who examines so seldom; the world, who even in matteis 
 of literature is almost always the slave of authority ? Who 
 will suspect that so much learning should mistake, that so 
 much accuracy should be misled, or that so much candoui 
 should be biased? 
 
 All this, however, has happened; and Madame Dacier’s 
 criticisms on my Preface flow from the very same error, 
 from which so many false criticisms of her countrymen 
 upon Homer have flowed, and which she has so justly and 
 so severely reproved; I mean the error of depending on 
 injurious and unskilful tvo^nslcitioTis. 
 
 An indifferent translation may be of some use, and a 
 good one will be of a great deal. But I think that no 
 translation ought to be the ground of criticism, because 
 no man ought to be condemned upon another man s ex- 
 
414 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 planation of his meaning: could Homer have had the 
 honour of explaining his before that august tribunal where 
 Monsieur de la Motte presides, I make no doubt but he had 
 escaped many of those severe animadversions with which 
 some French authors have loaded him, and from which 
 even Madame Dacier’s translation of the Iliad could not 
 preserve him. 
 
 How unhappy it was for me, that the knowledge of our 
 island tongue was as necessary to Madame Dacier in my 
 case, as the knowledge of Greek was to Monsieur de la 
 Motte in that of our great author; or to any of those 
 whom she styles blind censurers, and blames for condemn¬ 
 ing what they did not understand. 
 
 I may say with modesty, that she knew less of my true 
 sense from that faulty translation of part of my Preface, 
 than those blind censurers might have known of Homer’s 
 even from the translation of la Valterie, which preceded 
 her own. 
 
 ■N. 
 
 It pleased me, however, to find, that her objections were 
 not levelled at the general doctrine, or at any essentials 
 of my Preface, but only at a few particular expressions. 
 She proposed little more than (to use her own phrase) to 
 combat two or three similes; and I hope that to combat 
 a simile is no more than to fight with a shadow, since a 
 simile is no better than the shadow of an argument. 
 
 She lays much weight where I laid but little, and ex¬ 
 amines with more scrupulosity than I writ, or than perhaps 
 the matter requires. 
 
 These unlucky similes, taken by themselves, may perhaps 
 render my meaning equivocal to an ignorant translator; 
 or there may have fallen from my pen some expressions, 
 which, taken by themselves likewise, may to the same 
 person have the same effect. But if the translator had 
 been master of our tongue, the general tenor of my argu¬ 
 ment, that which precedes and that which follows the 
 passages objected to, would have sufficiently determined 
 him as to the precise meaning of them: and if Madame 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 415 
 
 Dacier had taken up her pen a little more leisurely, or 
 had employed it with more temper, she would not have 
 answered paraphrases of her own, which even the trans¬ 
 lation will not justify, and which say, more than once, 
 the very contrary to what I have said in the passages 
 themselves. 
 
 If any person has curiosity enough to read the whole 
 paragraphs in my Preface, on some mangled parts of which 
 these reflections are made, he will easily discern that I am 
 as orthodox as Madame Dacier herself in those very 
 articles on which she treats me like a heretic; he will 
 easily see that all the difference between us consists in 
 this, that I offer opinions, and she delivers doctrines; that 
 my imagination represents Homer as the greatest of human 
 poets, whereas in hers he was exalted above humanity; 
 infallibility and impeccability were two of his attributes. 
 There was, therefore, no need of defending Homer against 
 me, who (if I mistake not) had carried my admiration of 
 him as far as it can be carried, without giving a real occa¬ 
 sion of writing in his defence. 
 
 After answering my harmless similes,^he proceeds to 
 a matter which does not regard so much the honour of 
 Homer, as that of the times he lived in; and here I must 
 confess she does not wholly mistake my meaning, but I 
 think she mistakes the state of the question. She had 
 said, the manners of those times were so much the better, 
 the less they were like ours. I thought this required a 
 little qualification. I confess that in my opinion the world 
 was mended in some points, such as the custom of putting 
 whole nations to the sword, condemning kings and their 
 families to perpetual slavery, and a few others. Madame 
 Dacier judges otherwise in this; but as to the lest, pai- 
 ticularly in preferring the simplicity of the ancient world 
 to the luxury of ours, which is the main point contended foi, 
 she owns we agree. This I thought was well, but I am 
 so unfortunate that this too is taken amiss, and called 
 adopting, or (if you will) stealing her sentiments. The 
 
416 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 truth is, she might have said her v)ords; for I used them 
 on purpose, being then professedly citing from her: though 
 I might have done the same without intending that com¬ 
 pliment, for they are also to be found in Eustathius; and 
 the sentiment I believe is that of all mankind. I cannot 
 really tell what to say to this whole remark, only that in 
 the first part of it, Madame Dacier is displeased that I do 
 not agree with her, and in the last that I do: but this is a 
 temper which every polite man should overlook in a lady. 
 
 To punish my ingratitude, she resolves to expose my 
 blunders, and selects two, which I suppose are the most 
 flagrant, out of the many for which she could have chas¬ 
 tised me. It happens that the first of these is, in part, the 
 translator’s, and in part her own, without any share of 
 mine: she quotes the end of a sentence, and he puts in 
 French what I never wrote in English: “ Homer,” I said, 
 “opened a new and boundless walk for his imagination, 
 and created a world for himself in the invention of fable 
 which he translates, ^^Homere crea pour son usage un 
 monde mouvant, en inventant la fable.” 
 
 Madame Dacier justly wonders at this nonsense in me; 
 and I, in the translator. As to what I meant by Homer’s 
 invention of fable, it is afterwards particularly distin¬ 
 guished from that extensive sense in which she took it, by 
 these words: “If Homer was not the first who introduced 
 the deities (as Herodotus imagines) into the religion of 
 Greece, he seems the first who brought them into a system 
 of machinery for poetry.” 
 
 The other blunder she accuses me of is, the mistaking 
 a passage in Aristotle; and she is pleased to send me back 
 to this philosopher’s treatise of poetry, and to her preface 
 on the Odyssey, for my better instruction. Now, though 
 I am saucy enough to think that one may sometimes differ 
 from Aristotle without blundering, and though I am sure 
 one may sometimes fall into an error by following him 
 servilely, yet I own, that to quote any author for what he 
 never said, is a blunder; (but, by the way, to correct an 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 417 
 
 author for what he never said, is somewhat worse than a 
 blunder.) My words were these: “As there is a greater 
 variety of characters in the Iliad than in any other poem, 
 so there is of speeches. Every thing in it has manners, 
 as Aristotle expresses it; that is, every thing is acted or 
 spoken: very little passes in narration.” She justly says, 
 that “Every thing which is acted or spoken has not neces¬ 
 sarily manners, merely because it is acted or spoken.” 
 Agreed: but I would ask the question, whether any thing 
 can have manners which is neither acted nor spoken? If 
 not, then the whole Iliad, being almost spent in speech 
 and action, almost every thing in it has manners; since 
 Homer has been proved before, in a long paragraph of the 
 Preface, to have excelled in drawing characters and paint¬ 
 ing manners, and indeed his whole poem is one continued 
 occasion of showing this bright part of his talent. 
 
 To speak fairly, it is impossible she could read even the 
 translation, and take my sense so wrong as she represents 
 it; but I was first translated ignorantly, and then read 
 partially. My expression indeed was not quite exact; it 
 should have been, “Every thing has manners, as Aristotle 
 calls them.” But such a fault, methinks, might have been 
 spared; since, if one was to look with that disposition she 
 discovers towards me, even on her own excellent writings, 
 one might find some mistakes which no context can redress; 
 as where she makes Eustathius call Cratisthenes the Phile- 
 sian, Callisthenes the Physician.* What a triumph might 
 some slips of this sort have afforded to Homer’s, hers, and 
 my enemies, from which she was only screened by their 
 happy ignorance! How unlucky had it been, when she 
 insulted Mr. de la Motte for omitting a material passage 
 in the speechf of Helen to Hector, (Iliad vi.) if some 
 champion for the moderns had by chance understood so 
 much Greek as to whisper him, that there was no such 
 passage in Homer? 
 
 * Dacier Remarques sur le 4me livre de l’Odyss.,p. 476. 
 t De la Corruption du Gout. 
 
 18* Bb 
 
418 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Our concern, zeal, and even jealousy, for our great 
 author’s honour, were mutual, our endeavours to advance 
 it were equal, and I have as often trembled for it in her 
 hands, as she could in mine. It was one of the many 
 reasons I had to wish the longer life of this lady, that I 
 must certainly have regained her good opinion, in spite 
 of all misrepresenting translators whatever. I could not 
 have expected it on any other terms than being approved 
 as great, if not as passionate, an admirer of Homer as 
 herself: for that was the first condition of her favour and 
 friendship; otherwise not one’s taste alone, but one’s mo¬ 
 rality, had been corrupted; nor would any man’s religion 
 have been suspected, who did not implicitly believe in an 
 author whose doctrine is so conformable to Holy Scrip¬ 
 ture. However, as different people have different ways 
 of expressing their belief-—some purely by public and 
 general acts of worship, others by a reverent sort of rea¬ 
 soning and inquiry about the grounds of it—it is the same 
 in admiration: some prove it by exclamations, others by 
 respect. I have observed that the loudest huzzas given 
 to a great man in triumph, proceed not from his friends, 
 but the rabble; and as I have fancied it the same with the 
 rabble of critics, a desire to be distinguished from them 
 has turned me to the more moderate, and, I hope, more 
 rational method. Though I am a poet, I would not be an 
 enthusiast; and though I am an Englishman, I would not 
 be furiously of a party. I am far from thinking myself 
 that genius upon whom, at the end of these remarks, 
 Madame Dacier congratulates my country: one capable 
 of “correcting Homer, and consequently of reforming 
 mankind, and amending this constitution.” It was not to 
 Great Britain this ought to have been applied, since our 
 nation has one happiness for which she might have pre¬ 
 ferred it to her own, that, as much as we abound in other 
 miserable, misguided sects, we have at least none of the 
 blasphemers of Homer. We steadfastly and unanimously 
 believe both his poem and our constitution to be the best 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 419 
 
 that ever human wit invented; that the one is not more 
 incapable of amendment than the other; and, old as they 
 both are, we despise any French or English man whatever 
 who shall presume to retrench, to innovate, or to make the 
 least alteration in either. Far, therefore, from the genius 
 for which Madame Dacier mistook me, my whole desire 
 is but to preserve the humble character of a faithful trans¬ 
 lator and a quiet subject. 
 
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CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. 
 
 u; 
 
 1 
 
 It is well known that Pope received very important 
 assistance from Broome in completing his translation of 
 the Odyssey, besides material aid from Fenton. The 
 notes were mostly, if not wholly, compiled by the former, 
 and were very voluminous, if not interesting. According 
 to Ruffhead, Pope gave Fenton six hundred pounds, and 
 Broome three hundred, for their trouble; but, according 
 to Warton, Fenton had only three hundred, and Broome 
 five hundred, which, from their respective shares in the 
 work, as mentioned in another place, seems more likely 
 to be the fact. 
 
 We subjoin the following “conclusion of the notes,” pre¬ 
 suming it will be deemed all that is requisite.— Ed. 
 
 I MUST observe with what dignity Homer concludes the 
 Odyssey: to honour his hero, he introduces two deities, 
 Jupiter and Pallas, who interest themselves in his cause: 
 he then paints Ulysses in the boldest colours, as he rushes 
 upon the enemy with the utmost intrepidity, and his cour¬ 
 age is so ungovernable, that'Jupiter is forced to restrain it 
 with his thunder. It is usual for orators to reserve the 
 strongest arguments for the conclusion, that they may leave 
 them fresh upon the reader’s memory; Homer uses the 
 same conduct: he represents his hero in all his terror, he 
 shows him to be irresistible, and by this method leaves us 
 fully possessed with a noble idea of his magnanimity. 
 
422 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. 
 
 It has been already observed, that the end of the action 
 of the* Odyssey is the reestablishment of Ulysses in full 
 peace and tranquillity; this is not effected till the defeat 
 of the suitors’ friends; and, therefore, if the poet had con¬ 
 cluded before this event, the Odyssey had been imperfect. 
 It 'was necessary that the reader should not only be 
 informed of the return of Ulysses to his country, and the 
 punishment of the suitors, but of his reestablishment, by a 
 peaceful possession of his regal authority; which is not 
 executed till these last disorders raised by Eupithes are 
 settled by the victory of Ulysses; and, therefore, this is 
 the natural conclusion of the action. 
 
 This [the last] book opens with the morning, and ends 
 before night; so that the whole story of the Odyssey is 
 comprehended in the compass of one-and-forty days.— 
 Monsieur Dacier upon Aristotle remarks, that an epic 
 poem ought not to be too long: we should be able to 
 retain all the several parts of it at once in our memory: 
 if we lose the idea of the beginning when we come to the 
 conclusion, it is an argument that it is of too large an 
 extent, and its length destroys its beauty. What seems 
 to favour this decision is, that the iEneid, Iliad, and Odys¬ 
 sey, are conformable to this rule of Aristotle; and every 
 one of those poems may be read in the compass of a 
 single day. 
 
 I have now gone through the collections upon the 
 Odyssey, and laid together what occurred most remark¬ 
 able in this excellent poem. I am not so vain as to think 
 these remarks free from faults, nor so disingenuous as not 
 to confess them: all writers have occasion for indulgence, 
 and those most who least acknowledge it. I have some¬ 
 times used Madame Dacier as she has done others, in 
 
CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. 
 
 423 
 
 transcribing some of her remarks without particularizing 
 them; but, indeed, it was through inadvertency only that 
 her name is sometimes omitted at the bottom of the note. 
 If my performance has merit, either in these or in my part 
 of the translation—namely, in the sixth, eleventh, and 
 eighteenth books—it is but just to attribute it to the judg¬ 
 ment and care of Mr. Pope, by whose hand every sheet 
 was corrected. His other, and much more able assistant, 
 was Mr. Fenton, in the fourth and the twentieth books. 
 It was our particular request, that our several parts might 
 not be made known to the world till the end of it; and if 
 they have had the good fortune not to be distinguished from 
 his, we ought to be the less vain, since the resemblance 
 proceeds much less from our diligence and study to copy 
 his manner, than from his own daily revisal and correction. 
 The most experienced painters will not wonder at this, who 
 very well know that no critic can pronounce, even of the 
 pieces of Raphael or Titian, which have, or which have 
 not, been worked upon by those of their school; when the 
 same master’s hand has directed the execution of the 
 whole, reduced it to one character and colouring, gone 
 over the several parts, and given to each their finishing. 
 
 I must not conclude without declaring our mutual satis¬ 
 faction in Mr. Pope’s acceptance of our best endeavours, 
 which have contributed at least to his more speedy execu¬ 
 tion of this great undertaking. If ever my name be num¬ 
 bered with the learned, I must ascribe it to his friendship, 
 in transmitting it to posterity by a participation in his 
 labours. May the sense I have of this, and other instances 
 of that friendship, be known as long as his name will cause 
 mine to last; and may I to this end be permitted, at the 
 conclusion of a work, which is a kind of monument of 
 
424 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. 
 
 his partiality to me, to place the following lines, as an 
 inscription memorial of it: 
 
 Let vulgar souls triumphal arches raise. 
 
 Or speaking marbles, to record their praise; 
 
 And picture (to the voice of Fame unknown) 
 
 The mimic feature on the breathing stone: 
 
 Mere mortals! subject to Death’s total sway. 
 
 Reptiles of earth, and beings of a day! 
 
 ’Tis thine on every heart to grave thy praise, 
 
 A monument which worth alone can raise: 
 
 Sure to survive when time shall whelm in dust 
 The arch, the marble, and the mimic bust: 
 
 Nor, till the volumes of th’ expanded sky 
 
 Blaze in one flame, shalt thou and Homer die; ^ 
 
 Then sink together, in the world’s last fires. 
 
 What Heaven created and what Heaven inspires. 
 
 If aught on earth, when once this breath is fled. 
 
 With human transport touch the mighty dead, 
 Shakspeare, rejoice! his hand thy page refines; 
 
 Now every scene with native brightness shines: 
 
 Just to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought: 
 
 So Tully publish’d what Lucretius wrote: 
 
 Pruned by his care, thy laurels loftier grow, 
 
 And bloom afresh on thy immortal brow. 
 
 Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael! time invades. 
 And the bold figure from the canvas fades, 
 
 A rival hand recalls from every part 
 Some latent grace, and equals art with art: 
 
 Transported, we survey the dubious strife. 
 
 While each fair image starts again to life. 
 
 How long, untuned, had Homer’s sacred lyre 
 Jarr’d grating discord, all-extinct his fire! 
 
 This you beheld; and, taught by Heaven to sing. 
 
 Call’d the loud music from the sounding string. 
 
 Now, waked from slumbers of three thousand years. 
 Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears. 
 
CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. 425 
 
 Towers o’er the field of death; as fierce he turns, .i 
 
 Keen flash his arms, and all the hero burns; ' r 
 
 With martial stalk, and more than mortal might. 
 
 He strides along, and meets the gods in fight: 
 
 Then the pale Titans, chain’d on burning floors. 
 
 Start at the din that rends th’ infernal shores; 
 
 Tremble the towers of Heaven, earth rocks her coasts, 
 And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts. 
 
 To every theme responds thy various lay; 
 
 Here rolls a torrent, there Meanders play; 
 
 Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise. 
 
 Toss the wild waves, and thunder in the skies; 
 
 Or, softer than a yielding virgin’s sigh. 
 
 The gentle breezes breathe away, and die. 
 
 Thus, like the radiant God who sheds the day. 
 
 You paint the vale, or gild the azure way; 
 
 And, while with every theme the verse complies. 
 
 Sink without grovelling, without rashness rise. 
 
 Proceed, great bard! awake th’ harmonious string. 
 
 Be ours all Homer! still Ulysses sing. 
 
 How long* that hero, by unskilful hands 
 Stripp’d of his robes, a beggar trod our lands: 
 
 Such as he wander’d o’er his native coast. 
 
 Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior lost? 
 
 O’er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread; 
 
 Old age disgraced the honours of his head; 
 
 Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball shined 
 
 The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. 
 
 But you, like Pallas, every limb infold 
 With royal robes, and bid him shine in gold; 
 
 Touch’d by your hand, his manly frame improves 
 With grace divine, and like a god he moves. 
 
 Ev’n I, the meanest of the Muse’s train. 
 
 Inflamed by thee, attempt a nobler strain; 
 
 Adventurous waken the Mseonian lyre. 
 
 Tuned by your hand, and sing as you inspire; 
 
 * Odyssey, Lib. XVI. 
 
426 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE NOTES. ' 
 
 So, armed by great Achilles for the fight, 
 
 Patroclus conquer’d in Achilles’ right: ' p. 
 
 Like their’s, our friendship! and I boast my name 
 To thine united: for thy friendship’s fame. 
 
 This labour past, of heavenly subjects sing. 
 
 While hovering angels listen on the wing. 
 
 To hear from earth such heart-felt raptures rise 
 As, when they sing, suspended hold the skies: 
 
 Or, nobly rising in fair Virtue’s cause. 
 
 From thy own life transcribe th’ unerring laws: 
 
 Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend; 
 
 To verse like thine fierce savages attend. 
 
 And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay, 
 
 Ev’n fiends relenting hear their rage away. 
 
 , 1 
 
 W. BROOME. 
 
 nr 
 
 •' ^ 
 
 > 
 
 * >y' 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
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