Part 26

THE END OF THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS.

[1] _Πρόσυλος, materiæ adhærens: item, qui rebus mundanis deditus est._

[2] _‘ϒλακόμωρος, ad latrandum fato quodam natus._

[3] _Ανὴρ ἀπατήλια εἰδὼς, τρώκτης._

[4] _‘Ελελίχθη qui terram rapido motu concutit._

[5] _‘Απριάτην sine emptionis seu redemptionis pretio._

[6] At sunset.

[7] _Περίϕρων._

THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Minerva to his native seat. Exhorts Ulysses’ son’s retreat, In bed, and waking. He receives Gifts of Atrides, and so leaves The Spartan court. And, going aboard, Doth favourable way afford To Theoclymenus, that was The Argive augur, and sought pass, Fled for a slaughter he had done. Eumæus tells Laertes’ son, How he became his father’s man, Being sold by the Phœnician For some agreed-on faculties, From forth the Syrian isle made prise. Telemachus, arrived at home, Doth to Eumæus’ cottage come.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

O. From Sparta’s strand Makes safe access To his own land Ulyssides.

In Lacedæmon, large, and apt for dances,[1] Athenian Pallas her access advances Up to the great-in-soul Ulysses’ seed, Suggesting his return now fit for deed. She found both him and Nestor’s noble son In bed, in front of that fair mansión, Nestorides surpris’d with pleasing sleep, But on the watch Ulysses’ son did keep, Sleep could not enter, cares did so excite His soul, through all the solitary night, For his lov’d father. To him, near, she said: “Telemachus! ’Tis time that now were stay’d Thy foreign travels, since thy goods are free For those proud men that all will eat from thee, Divide thy whole possessións, and leave Thy too-late presence nothing to receive. Incite the shrill-voic’d Menelaus then, To send thee to thy native seat again, While thou mayst yet find in her honour strong Thy blameless mother, ’gainst thy fathers’ wrong. For both the father, and the brothers too, Of thy lov’d mother, will not suffer so Extended any more her widow’s bed, But make her now her richest wooer wed, Eurymachus, who chiefly may augment Her gifts, and make her jointure eminent. And therefore haste thee, lest, in thy despite, Thy house stand empty of thy native right. For well thou know’st what mind a woman bears; The house of him, whoever she endears Herself in nuptials to, she sees increas’d, The issue of her first lov’d lord deceas’d Forgotten quite, and never thought on more. In thy return then, the re-counted store Thou find’st reserv’d, to thy most trusted maid Commit in guard, till Heav’n’s Pow’rs have purvey’d A wife, in virtue and in beauty’s grace, Of fit sort for thee, to supply her place. And this note more I’ll give thee, which repose In sure remembrance: The best sort of those That woo thy mother watchful scouts address Both in the straits of th’ Ithacensian seas, And dusty Samos, with intent t’ invade And take thy life, ere thy return be made. Which yet I think will fail, and some of them That waste thy fortunes taste of that extreme They plot for thee. But keep off far from shore, And day and night sail, for a fore-right blore, Whoever of th’ Immortals that vow guard And ’scape to thy return, will see prepar’d. As soon as thou arriv’st, dismiss to town Thy ship and men, and first of all make down To him that keeps thy swine, and doth conceive A tender care to see thee well survive. There sleep; and send him to the town, to tell The chaste Penelopé, that safe and well Thou liv’st in his charge, and that Pylos’ sands The place contain’d from whence thy person lands.” Thus she to large Olympus made ascent. When with his heel a little touch he lent To Nestor’s son, whose sleep’s sweet chains he loos’d, Bad rise, and see in chariot inclos’d Their one-hoof’d horse, that they might straight be gone. “No such haste,” he replied, “Night holds her throne, And dims all way to course of chariot. The morn will soon get up. Nor see forgot The gifts with haste, that will, I know, be rich, And put into our coach with gracious speech By lance-fam’d Menelaus. Not a guest Shall touch at his house, but shall store his breast With fit mind of an hospitable man, To last as long as any daylight can His eyes recomfort, in such gifts as he Will proofs make of his hearty royalty.” He had no sooner said, but up arose Aurora, that the golden hills repose. And Menelaus, good-at-martial-cries, From Helen’s bed rais’d, to his guest applies His first appearance. Whose repair made known T’ Ulysses’ lov’d son, on his robe was thrown About his gracious body, his cloak cast Athwart his ample shoulders, and in haste Abroad he went, and did the king accost: “Atrides, guarded with heav’n’s deified host, Grant now remission to my native right, My mind now urging mine own house’s sight.” “Nor will I stay,” said he, “thy person long, Since thy desires to go are grown so strong. I should myself be angry to sustain The like detention urg’d by other men. Who loves a guest past mean, past mean will hate, _The mean in all acts bears the best estate._ A like ill ’tis, to thrust out such a guest As would not go, as to detain the rest. We should a guest love, while he loves to stay, And, when he likes not, give him loving way. Yet suffer so, that we may gifts impose In coach to thee; which ere our hands inclose, Thine eyes shall see, lest else our loves may glose. Besides, I’ll cause our women to prepare What our house yields, and merely so much fare As may suffice for health. Both well will do, Both for our honour and our profit too. And, serving strength with food, you after may As much earth measure as will match the clay. If you will turn your course from sea, and go Through Greece and Argos (that myself may so Keep kind way with thee) I’ll join horse, and guide T’ our human cities. Nor ungratified Will anyone remit us; some one thing Will each present us, that along may bring Our pass with love, and prove our virtues blaz’d: A caldron, or a tripod, richly-braz’d, Two mules, a bowl of gold, that hath his price Heighten’d with emblems of some rare device.” The wise prince answer’d: “I would gladly go Home to mine own, and see that govern’d so That I may keep what I for certain hold, Not hazard that for only hop’d-for gold. I left behind me none so all ways fit To give it guard, as mine own trust with it. Besides, in this broad course which you propose, My father seeking I myself may lose.” When this the shrill-voic’d Menelaus heard, He charg’d his queen and maids to see prepar’d Breakfast, of what the whole house held for best. To him rose Eteoneus from his rest, Whose dwelling was not far off from the court, And his attendance his command did sort With kindling fires, and furth’ring all the roast, In act of whose charge heard no time he lost. Himself then to an odorous room descended, Whom Megapenthe and his queen attended. Come to his treasury, a two-ear’d cup He choos’d of all, and made his son bear up A silver bowl. The queen then taking stand Aside her chest, where by her own fair hand Lay vests of all hues wrought, she took out one Most large, most artful, chiefly fair, and shone Like to a star, and lay of all the last. Then through the house with either’s gift they past; When to Ulysses’ son Atrides said: “Telemachus, since so entirely sway’d Thy thoughts are with thy vow’d return now tender’d, May Juno’s thund’ring husband see it render’d Perfect at all parts, action answ’ring thought. Of all the rich gifts, in my treasure sought, I give thee here the most in grace and best. A bowl but silver, yet the brim’s comprest With gold, whose fabric his desert doth bring From Vulcan’s hand, presented by the king And great heroë of Sidonia’s state, When at our parting he did consummate His whole house-keeping. This do thou command.” This said, he put the round bowl in his hand, And then his strong son Megapenthe plac’d The silver cup before him, amply grac’d With work and lustre. Helen (standing by, And in her hand the robe, her housewifery) His name rememb’ring, said: “And I present, Lov’d son, this gift to thee, the monument Of the so-many-lovéd Helen’s hands, Which, at the knitting of thy nuptial bands, Present thy wife. In mean space, may it lie By thy lov’d mother; but to me apply Thy pleasure in it, and thus take thy way To thy fair house, and country’s wishéd stay.” Thus gave she to his hands the veil, and he The acceptation author’d joyfully. Which in the chariot’s chest Pisistratus Plac’d with the rest, and held miraculous. The yellow-headed king then led them all To seats and thrones plac’d in his spacious hall. The hand-maid water brought, and gave it stream From out a fair and golden ewer to them, From whose hands to a silver caldron fled The troubled wave. A bright board then she spread, On which another rev’rend dame set bread. To which more servants store of victuals serv’d. Eteonëus was the man that kerv’d, And Megapenthe fill’d them all their wine. All fed and drank, till all felt care decline For those refreshings. Both the guests did go To horse, and coach, and forth the portico A little issued, when the yellow King Brought wine himself, that, with an offering To all the Gods, they might their journey take. He stood before the Gods, and thus he spake: “Farewell young Princes! To grave Nestor’s ear This salutation from my gratitude bear: That I profess, in all our Ilion wars, He stood a careful father to my cares.” To whom the wise Ulyssides replied: “With all our utmost shall be signified, Jove-kept Atrides, your right royal will; And would to God, I could as well fulfill Mine own mind’s gratitude, for your free grace, In telling to Ulysses, in the place Of my return, in what accomplish’d kind I have obtain’d the office of a friend At your deservings; whose fair end you crown With gifts so many, and of such renown!” His wish, that he might find in his retreat His father safe return’d (to so repeat The king’s love to him) was saluted thus: An eagle rose, and in her seres did truss A goose, all-white, and huge, a household one, Which men and women, crying out upon, Pursued, but she, being near the guests, her flight Made on their right hand, and kept still fore-right Before their horses; which observ’d by them, The spirits in all their minds took joys extreme, Which Nestor’s son thus question’d: “Jove-kept king,[2] Yield your grave thoughts, if this ostentful thing (This eagle, and this goose) touch us, or you?” He put to study, and not knowing how To give fit answer, Helen took on her Th’ ostent’s solution, and did this prefer: “Hear me, and I will play the prophet’s part, As the Immortals cast it in my heart, And as, I think, will make the true sense known: As this Jove’s bird, from out the mountains flown, (Where was her eyrie, and whence rose her race,) Truss’d up this goose, that from the house did graze, So shall Ulysses, coming from the wild Of seas and suff’rings, reach, unreconcil’d, His native home, where ev’n this hour he is, And on those house-fed Wooers those wrongs of his Will shortly wreak, with all their miseries.” “O,” said Telemachus, “if Saturnian Jove To my desires thy dear presage approve, When I arrive, I will perform to thee My daily vows, as to a Deity.” This said, he us’d his scourge upon the horse, That through the city freely made their course To field, and all day made that first speed good. But when the sun set, and obscureness stood In each man’s way, they ended their access At Pheras, in the house of Diocles, Son to Orsilochus, Alphëus’ seed, Who gave them guest-rites; and sleep’s natural need They that night served there. When Aurora rose, They join’d their horse, took coach, and did dispose Their course for Pylos; whose high city soon They reach’d. Nor would Telemachus be won To Nestor’s house, and therefore order’d thus His speech to Nestor’s son, Pisistratus: “How shall I win thy promise to a grace That I must ask of thee? We both embrace The names of bed-fellows, and in that name Will glory as an adjunct of our fame; Our fathers’ friendship, our own equal age, And our joint travel, may the more engage Our mutual concord. Do not then assay, My God-lov’d friend, to lead me from my way To my near ship, but take a course direct And leave me there, lest thy old sire’s respect, In his desire to love me, hinder so My way for home, that have such need to go.” This said, Nestorides held all discourse In his kind soul, how best he might enforce Both promise and performance; which, at last; He vow’d to venture, and directly cast His horse about to fetch the ship and shore. Where come, his friends’ most lovely gifts he bore Aboard the ship, and in her hind-deck plac’d The veil that Helen’s curious hand had grac’d, And Menelaus’ gold, and said: “Away, Nor let thy men, in any least date, stay, But quite put off, ere I get home, and tell The old duke, you are past; for passing well I know his mind to so exceed all force Of any pray’r, that he will stay your course, Himself make hither, all your course call back, And, when he hath you, have no thought to rack Him from his bounty, and to let you part Without a present, but be vex’d at heart With both our pleadings, if we once put move The least repression of his fiery love.” Thus took he coach, his fair-man’d steeds scourg’d on Along the Pylian city, and anon His father’s court reach’d; while Ulysses’ son Bade board, and arm; which with a thought was done. His rowers set, and he rich odours firing In his hind-deck, for his secure retiring, To great Athenia, to his ship came flying A stranger, and a prophet, as relying On wishéd passage, having newly slain A man at Argos, yet his race’s vein Flow’d from Melampus, who in former date In Pylos liv’d, and had a huge estate, But fled his country, and the punishing hand Of great-soul’d Neleus, in a foreign land, From that most famous mortal, having held A world of riches, nor could be compell’d To render restitution in a year. In mean space, living as close prisoner In court of Phylacus, and for the sake Of Neleus’ daughter mighty cares did take, Together with a grievous languor sent From grave Erinnys, that did much torment His vexéd conscience; yet his life’s expence He scap’d, and drave the loud-voiced oxen thence, To breed-sheep Pylos, bringing vengeance thus Her foul demerit to great Neleüs, And to his brother’s house reduc’d his wife. Who yet from Pylos did remove his life For feed-horse Argos, where his fate set down A dwelling for him, and in much renown Made govern many Argives, where a spouse He took to him, and built a famous house. There had he born to him Antiphates, And forceful Mantius. To the first of these Was great Oïcleus born: Oïcleus gat Amphiaraus, that the popular state Had all their health in, whom ev’n from his heart Jove lov’d, and Phœbus in the whole desert Of friendship held him; yet not bless’d so much That age’s threshold he did ever touch, But lost his life by female bribery.[3] Yet two sons author’d his posterity, Alcmæon, and renown’d Amphilochus. Mantius had issue Polyphidius, And Clytus, but Aurora ravish’d him, For excellence of his admiréd limb, And interested him amongst the Gods. His brother knew men’s good and bad abodes The best of all men, after the decease Of him that perish’d in unnatural peace At spacious Thebes. Apollo did inspire His knowing soul with a prophetic fire. Who, angry with his father, took his way To Hyperesia; where, making stay, He prophesied to all men, and had there A son call’d Theoclymenus, who here Came to Telemachus, and found aboard Himself at sacrifice, whom in a word He thus saluted: “O friend, since I find, Ev’n here at ship, a sacrificing mind Inform your actions, by your sacrifice, And by that worthy choice of Deities To whom you offer, by yourself, and all These men that serve your course maritimal, Tell one that asks the truth, nor give it glose, Both who, and whence, you are? From what seed rose Your royal person? And what city’s tow’rs Hold habitation to your parents’ pow’rs?” He answer’d: “Stranger! The sure truth is this: I am of Ithaca; my father is (Or was) Ulysses, but austere death now Takes his state from him; whose event to know Himself being long away, I set forth thus With ship and soldiers.” Theoclymenus As freely said: “And I to thee am fled From forth my country, for a man struck dead By my unhappy hand, who was with me Of one self-tribe, and of his pedigree Are many friends and brothers, and the sway Of Achive kindred reacheth far away. From whom, because I fear their spleens suborn Blood and black fate against me (being born To be a wand’rer among foreign men) Make thy fair ship my rescue, and sustain My life from slaughter. Thy deservings may Perform that mercy, and to them I pray.” “Nor will I bar,” said he, “thy will to make My means and equal ship thy aid, but take (With what we have here, in all friendly use) Thy life from any violence that pursues.” Thus took he in his lance, and it extended Aloft the hatches, which himself ascended. The prince took seat at stern, on his right hand Set Theoclymenus, and gave command To all his men to arm, and see made fast Amidst the hollow keel the beechen mast With able halsers, hoise sail, launch; which soon He saw obey’d. And then his ship did run A merry course; blue-eyed Minerva sent A fore-right gale, tumultuous, vehement, Along the air, that her way’s utmost yield The ship might make, and plough the brackish field. Then set the sun, and night black’d all the ways. The ship, with Jove’s wind wing’d, where th’ Epian sways, Fetch’d Pheras first, then Elis the divine, And then for those isles made, that sea-ward shine For form and sharpness like a lance’s head, About which lay the Wooers ambushéd; On which he rush’d, to try if he could ’scape His plotted death, or serve her treach’rous rape. And now return we to Eumæus’ shed, Where, at their food with others marshalléd, Ulysses and his noble herdsman sate. To try if whose love’s curious estate Stood firm to his abode, or felt it fade, And so would take each best cause to persuade His guest to town, Ulysses thus contends: “Hear me, Eumæus, and ye other friends. Next morn to town I covet to be gone, To beg some others’ alms, not still charge one. Advise me well then, and as well provide I may be fitted with an honest guide, For through the streets, since need will have it so, I’ll tread, to try if any will bestow A dish of drink on me, or bit of bread, Till to Ulysses’ house I may be led; And there I’ll tell all-wise Penelope news, Mix with the Wooers’ pride, and, since they use To fare above the full, their hands excite To some small feast from out their infinite: For which, I’ll wait, and play the servingman, Fairly enough, command the most they can. For I will tell thee, note me well, and hear, That, if the will be of Heav’n’s Messenger, (Who to the works of men, of any sort, Can grace infuse, and glory) nothing short Am I of him, that doth to most aspire In any service, as to build a fire, To cleave sere wood, to roast or boil their meat, To wait at board, mix wine, or know the neat, Or any work, in which the poor-call’d worst To serve the rich-call’d best in Fate are forc’d.” He, angry with him, said: “Alas, poor guest, Why did this counsel ever touch thy breast? Thou seek’st thy utter spoil beyond all doubt, If thou giv’st venture on the Wooers’ rout, Whose wrong and force affects the iron heav’n, Their light delights are far from being giv’n To such grave servitors. Youths richly trick’d In coats or cassocks, locks divinely slick’d, And looks most rapting, ever have the gift To taste their crown’d cups, and full trenchers shift. Their tables ever like their glasses shine, Loaded with bread, with varied flesh, and wine. And thou go thither? Stay, for here do none Grudge at thy presence, nor myself, nor one Of all I feed. But when Ulysses’ son Again shall greet us, he shall put thee on Both coat and cassock, and thy quick retreat Set where thy heart and soul desire thy seat.” Industrious Ulysses gave reply: “I still much wish, that Heav’n’s chief Deity Lov’d thee, as I do, that hast eas’d my mind Of woes and wand’rings never yet confin’d. _Nought is more wretched in a human race, Than country’s want, and shift from place to place._ But for the baneful belly men take care Beyond good counsel, whosoever are In compass of the wants it undergoes By wand’rings, losses, or dependent woes. Excuse me therefore, if I err’d at home; Which since thou wilt make here, as overcome With thy command for stay, I’ll take on me Cares appertaining to this place, like thee. Does then Ulysses’ sire, and mother, breathe, Both whom he left in th’ age next door to death? Or are they breathless, and descended where The dark house is, that never day doth clear?” “Laertes lives,” said he, “but ev’ry hour Beseecheth Jove to take from him the pow’r That joins his life and limbs; for with a moan That breeds a marvel he laments his son Depriv’d by death, and adds to that another Of no less depth for that dead son’s dead mother, Whom he a virgin wedded, which the more Makes him lament her loss, and doth deplore Yet more her miss, because her womb the truer Was to his brave son, and his slaughter slew her. Which last love to her doth his life engage, And makes him live an undigested age. O! such a death she died as never may Seize anyone that here beholds the day, That either is to any man a friend, Or can a woman kill in such a kind. As long as she had being, I would be A still inquirer (since ’twas dear to me, Though death to her, to hear his name) when she Heard of Ulysses, for I might be bold, She brought me up, and in her love did hold My life, compar’d with long-veil’d Ctimené, Her youngest issue (in some small degree Her daughter yet preferr’d) a brave young dame. And when of youth the dearly-lovéd flame Was lighted in us, marriage did prefer The maid to Samos; whence was sent for her Infinite riches, when the queen bestow’d A fair new suit, new shoes, and all, and vow’d Me to the field, but passing loth to part, As loving me more than she lov’d her heart. And these I want now; but their business grows Upon me daily, which the Gods impose, To whom I hold all, give account to them, For I see none left to the diadem That may dispose all better. So, I drink And eat of what is here; and whom I think Worthy or rev’rend, I have giv’n to, still, These kinds of guest-rites; for the household ill (Which, where the queen is, riots) takes her still From thought of these things. Nor is it delight To hear, from her plight, of or work or word; The Wooers spoil all. But yet my men will board Her sorrows often with discourse of all, Eating and drinking of the festival That there is kept, and after bring to field Such things as servants make their pleasures yield.”