Part 7

FINIS LIBRI TERTII HOM. ODYSS.

[1] _Volente Deo, nihil est difficile._

[2] _Οἲνοπα πὀντον: οἲνοψ cujus facies vinum repræsentat._

THE FOURTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Receiv’d now in the Spartan court, Telemachus prefers report To Menelaus of the throng Of Wooers with him, and their wrong. Atrides tells the Greeks’ retreat, And doth a prophecy repeat That Proteus made, by which he knew His brother’s death; and then doth show How with Calypso liv’d the sire Of his young guest. The Wooers conspire Their prince’s death. Whose treach’ry known, Penelope in tears doth drown. Whom Pallas by a dream doth cheer, And in similitude appear Of fair Iphthima, known to be The sister of Penelope.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_Δἐλτα._ Here of the sire The son doth hear. The Wooers conspire. The Mother’s fear.

In Lacedæmon now, the nurse of whales,[1] These two arriv’d, and found at festivals, With mighty concourse, the renownéd king, His son and daughter jointly marrying. Alector’s daughter he did give his son, Strong Megapenthes, who his life begun By Menelaus’ bondmaid; whom he knew In years when Helen could no more renew In issue like divine Hermione, Who held in all fair form as high degree As golden Venus. Her he married now To great Achilles’ son, who was by vow Betroth’d to her at Troy, And thus the Gods To constant loves give nuptial periods. Whose state here past, the Myrmidons’ rich town (Of which she shar’d in the imperial crown) With horse and chariots he resign’d her to. Mean space, the high huge house with feast did flow Of friends and neighbours, joying with the king. Amongst whom did a heav’nly poet sing, And touch his harp. Amongst whom likewise danc’d Two, who in that dumb motion advanc’d, Would prompt the singer what to sing and play.[2] All this time in the utter court did stay, With horse and chariot, Telemachus, And Nestor’s noble son Pisistratus. Whom Eteoneus, coming forth, descried, And, being a servant to the king, most tried In care and his respect, he ran and cried: “Guests, Jove-kept Menelaus, two such men As are for form of high Saturnius’ strain. Inform your pleasure, if we shall unclose Their horse from coach, or say they must dispose Their way to some such house, as may embrace Their known arrival with more welcome grace?”

He, angry, answer’d: “Thou didst never show Thyself a fool, Boethides, till now; But now, as if turn’d child, a childish speech Vents thy vain spirits. We ourselves now reach Our home by much spent hospitality Of other men; nor know if Jove will try With other after-wants our state again; And therefore from our feast no more detain Those welcome guests, but take their steeds from coach, And with attendance guide in their approach.”

This said, he rush’d abroad, and call’d some more Tried in such service, that together bore Up to the guests, and took their steeds that swet Beneath their yokes from coach; at mangers set, Wheat and white barley gave them mix’d; and plac’d Their chariot by a wall so clear, it cast A light quite through it. And then they led Their guests to the divine house; which so fed Their eyes at all parts with illustrious sights, That admiration seiz’d them. Like the lights The sun and moon gave, all the palace threw A lustre through it. Satiate with whose view, Down to the king’s most bright-kept baths they went, Where handmaids did their services present, Bath’d, balm’d them, shirts and well-napt weeds put on, And by Atrides’ side set each his throne. Then did the handmaid-royal water bring, And to a laver, rich and glittering, Of massy gold, pour’d; which she plac’d upon A silver caldron, into which might run The water as they wash’d. Then set she near A polish’d table, on which all the cheer The present could afford a rev’rend dame, That kept the larder, set. A cook then came, And divers dishes, borne thence, serv’d again; Furnish’d the board with bowls of gold. And then, His right hand giv’n the guests, Atrides said: “Eat, and be cheerful. Appetite allay’d, I long to ask, of what stock ye descend; For not from parents whose race nameless end We must derive your offspring. Men obscure Could get none such as you. The portraiture Of Jove-sustain’d and sceptre-bearing kings Your either person in his presence brings.” An ox’s fat chine then they up did lift, And set before the guests; which was a gift, Sent as an honour to the king’s own taste. They saw yet ’twas but to be eaten plac’d, And fell to it. But food and wine’s care past, Telemachus thus prompted Nestor’s son, (His ear close laying, to be heard of none):[3]

“Consider, thou whom most of my mind esteems, The brass-work here, how rich it is in beams, And how, besides, it makes the whole house sound; What gold, and amber, silver, ivory, round Is wrought about it. Out of doubt, the hall Of Jupiter Olympius hath of all This state the like. How many infinites Take up to admiration all men’s sights!”

Atrides over-heard, and said: “Lov’d son, No mortal must affect contentión With Jove, whose dwellings are of endless date. Perhaps of men some one may emulate, Or none, my house, or me; for I am one That many a grave extreme have undergone, Much error felt by sea, and till th’ eighth year, Had never stay, but wander’d far and near, Cyprus, Phœnicia, and Sidonia, And fetch’d the far-off Æthiopia, Reach’d the Erembi of Arabia, And Lybia, where with horns ewes yean their lambs, Which ev’ry full year ewes are three times dams, Where neither king, nor shepherd, want comes near Of cheese, or flesh, or sweet milk; all the year They ever milk their ewes. And here while I Err’d, gath’ring means to live, one, murd’rously, Unwares, unseen, bereft my brother’s life, Chiefly betray’d by his abhorréd wife. So hold I, not enjoying, what you see. And of your fathers, if they living be, You must have heard this, since my suff’rings were So great and famous; from this palace here (So rarely-well-built, furnishéd so well, And substancéd with such a precious deal Of well-got treasure) banish’d by the doom Of Fate, and erring as I had no home. And now I have, and use it, not to take Th’ entire delight it offers, but to make Continual wishes, that a triple part Of all it holds were wanting, so my heart Were eas’d of sorrows, taken for their deaths That fell at Troy, by their revivéd breaths. And thus sit I here weeping, mourning still Each least man lost; and sometimes make mine ill, In paying just tears for their loss, my joy. Sometimes I breathe my woes, for in annoy The pleasure soon admits satiety. But all these men’s wants wet not so mine eye, Though much they move me, as one sole man’s miss, For which my sleep and meat ev’n loathsome is In his renew’d thought, since no Greek hath won Grace for such labours as Laërtes’ son Hath wrought and suffer’d, to himself nought else But future sorrows forging, to me hells For his long absence, since I cannot know If life or death detain him; since such woe For his love, old Laërtes, his wise wife, And poor young son sustains, whom new with life He left as sireless.” This speech grief to tears (Pour’d from the son’s lids on the earth) his ears, Told of the father, did excite; who kept His cheeks dry with his red weed as he wept, His both hands us’d therein. Atrides then Began to know him, and did strife retain, If he should let himself confess his sire, Or with all fitting circumstance enquire.

While this his thoughts disputed, forth did shine, Like to the golden distaff-deck’d Divine, From her bed’s high and odoriferous room, Helen. To whom, of an elaborate loom, Adresta set a chair; Alcippe brought A piece of tapestry of fine wool wrought; Phylo a silver cabinet conferr’d, Giv’n by Alcandra, nuptially endear’d To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes Th’ Ægyptian city was, where wealth in heaps His famous house held, out of which did go, In gift t’ Atrides, silver bath-tubs two, Two tripods, and of fine gold talents ten. His wife did likewise send to Helen then Fair gifts, a distaff that of gold was wrought, And that rich cabinet that Phylo brought, Round, and with gold ribb’d, now of fine thread full; On which extended (crown‘d with finest wool, Of violet gloss) the golden distaff-lay.

She took her state-chair, and a foot-stool’s stay Had for her feet; and of her husband thus Ask’d to know all things: “Is it known to us, King Menelaus, whom these men commend Themselves for, that our court now takes to friend? I must affirm, be I deceiv’d or no, I never yet saw man nor woman so Like one another, as this man is like Ulysses’ son. With admiration strike His looks my thoughts, that they should carry now Pow’r to persuade me thus, who did but know, When newly he was born, the form they bore. But ’tis his father’s grace, whom more and more His grace resembles, that makes me retain Thought that he now is like Telemachus, then Left by his sire, when Greece did undertake Troy’s bold war for my impudency’s sake.”

He answer’d: “Now wife, what you think I know, The true cast of his father’s eye doth show In his eyes’ order. Both his head and hair, His hands and feet, his very father’s are. Of whom, so well remember’d, I should now Acknowledge for me his continual flow Of cares and perils, yet still patient. But I should too much move him, that doth vent Such bitter tears for that which hath been spoke, Which, shunning soft show, see how he would cloak, And with his purple weed his weepings hide.”

Then Nestor’s son, Pisistratus, replied: “Great pastor of the people, kept of God! He is Ulysses’ son, but his abode Not made before here, and he modest too, He holds it an indignity to do A deed so vain, to use the boast of words, Where your words are on wing; whose voice affords Delight to us as if a God did break The air amongst us, and vouchsafe to speak. But me my father, old duke Nestor, sent To be his consort hither; his content Not to be heighten’d so as with your sight, In hope that therewith words and actions might Inform his comforts from you, since he is Extremely griev’d and injur’d by the miss Of his great father; suff’ring ev’n at home, And few friends found to help him overcome His too weak suff’rance, now his sire is gone; Amongst the people, not afforded one To check the miseries that mate him thus. And this the state is of Telemachus.”

“O Gods,” said he, “how certain, now, I see My house enjoys that friend’s son, that for me Hath undergone so many willing fights! Whom I resolv’d, past all the Grecian knights, To hold in love, if our return by seas The far-off Thunderer did ever please To grant our wishes. And to his respect A palace and a city to erect, My vow had bound me; whither bringing then His riches, and his son, and all his men, From barren Ithaca, (some one sole town Inhabited about him batter’d down) All should in Argos live. And there would I Ease him of rule, and take the empery Of all on me. And often here would we, Delighting, loving either’s company, Meet and converse; whom nothing should divide, Till death’s black veil did each all over hide. But this perhaps hath been a mean to take Ev’n God himself with envy; who did make Ulysses therefore only the unblest, That should not reach his loved country’s rest.”

These woes made ev’ry one with woe in love; Ev’n Argive Helen wept, the Seed of Jove; Ulysses’ son wept; Atreus’ son did weep; And Nestor’s son his eyes in tears did steep, But his tears fell not from the present cloud That from Ulysses was exhal’d, but flow’d From brave Antilochus’ remember’d due, Whom the renown’d Son of the Morning slew, Which yet he thus excus’d: “O Atreus’ son! Old Nestor says, there lives not such a one Amongst all mortals as Atrides is For deathless wisdom. ’Tis a praise of his, Still giv’n in your remembrance, when at home Our speech concerns you. Since then overcome You please to be with sorrow, ev’n to tears, That are in wisdom so exempt from peers, Vouchsafe the like effect in me excuse, If it be lawful, I affect no use Of tears thus after meals; at least, at night; But when the morn brings forth, with tears, her light, It shall not then impair me to bestow My tears on any worthy’s overthrow. It is the only rite that wretched men Can do dead friends, to cut hair, and complain. But Death my brother took, whom none could call The Grecian coward, you best knew of all. I was not there, nor saw, but men report Antilochus excell’d the common sort For footmanship, or for the chariot race, Or in the fight for hardy hold of place.”

“O friend,” said he, “since thou hast spoken so, At all parts as one wise should say and do, And like one far beyond thyself in years, Thy words shall bounds be to our former tears. O he is questionless a right-born son, That of his father hath not only won The person but the wisdom; and that sire Complete himself that hath a son entire, Jove did not only his full fate adorn, When he was wedded, but when he was born. As now Saturnius, through his life’s whole date, Hath Nestor’s bliss rais’d to as steep a state, Both in his age to keep in peace his house, And to have children wise and valorous. But let us not forget our rear feast thus. Let some give water here. Telemachus! The morning shall yield time to you and me To do what fits, and reason mutually.”

This said, the careful servant of the king, Asphalion, pour’d on th’ issue of the spring; And all to ready feast set ready hand. But Helen now on new device did stand, Infusing straight a medicine to their wine, That, drowning care and angers; did decline All thought of ill. Who drunk her cup could shed All that day not a tear, no not if dead That day his father or his mother were, Not if his brother, child, or chiefest dear, He should see murder’d then before his face. Such useful medicines, only borne in grace Of what was good, would Helen ever have. And this juice to her Polydamna gave The wife of Thoon, an Ægyptian born, Whose rich earth herbs of medicine do adorn In great abundance. Many healthful are, And many baneful. Ev’ry man is there A good physician out of Nature’s grace, For all the nation sprung of Pæon’s race.

When Helen then her medicine had infus’d, She bad pour wine to it, and this speech us’d:

“Atrides, and these good men’s sons, great Jove Makes good and ill one after other move, In all things earthly; for he can do all. The woes past, therefore, he so late let fall, The comforts he affords us let us take; Feast, and, with fit discourses, merry make. Nor will I other use. As then our blood Griev’d for Ulysses, since he was so good, Since he was good, let us delight to hear How good he was, and what his suff’rings were; Though ev’ry fight, and ev’ry suff’ring deed, Patient Ulysses underwent, exceed My woman’s pow’r to number, or to name. But what he did, and suffer’d, when he came Amongst the Trojans, where ye Grecians all Took part with suff’rance, I in part can call To your kind memories. How with ghastly wounds Himself he mangled, and the Trojan bounds, Thrust thick with enemies, adventur’d on, His royal shoulders having cast upon Base abject weeds, and enter’d like a slave. Then, beggar-like, he did of all men crave, And such a wretch was, as the whole Greek fleet Brought not besides. And thus through ev’ry street He crept discov’ring, of no one man known. And yet through all this diff’rence, I alone Smoked his true person, talk’d with him; but he Fled me with wiles still. Nor could we agree, Till I disclaim’d him quite; and so (as mov’d With womanly remorse of one that prov’d So wretched an estate, whate’er he were) Won him to take my house. And yet ev’n there, Till freely I, to make him doubtless, swore A pow’rful oath, to let him reach the shore Of ships and tents before Troy understood, I could not force on him his proper good. But then I bath’d and sooth’d him, and he then Confess’d, and told me all; and, having slain A number of the Trojan guards, retir’d, And reach’d the fleet, for sleight and force admir’d. Their husbands’ deaths by him the Trojan wives Shriek’d for; but I made triumphs for their lives, For then my heart conceiv’d, that once again I should reach home; and yet did still retain Woe for the slaughters Venus made for me, When both my husband, my Hermione, And bridal room, she robb’d of so much right, And drew me from my country with her sleight, Though nothing under heaven I here did need, That could my fancy or my beauty feed.”

Her husband said: “Wife! what you please to tell Is true at all parts, and becomes you well; And I myself, that now may say have seen The minds and manners of a world of men, And great heroes, measuring many a ground, Have never, by these eyes that light me, found One with a bosom so to be belov’d, As that in which th’ accomplish’d spirit mov’d Of patient Ulysses. What, brave man, He both did act, and suffer, when he wan The town of Ilion, in the brave-built horse, When all we chief states of the Grecian force Were hous’d together, bringing death and Fate Amongst the Trojans, you, wife, may relate; For you, at last, came to us; God, that would The Trojans’ glory give, gave charge you should Approach the engine; and Deiphobus, The god-like, follow’d. Thrice ye circled us With full survey of it; and often tried The hollow crafts that in it were implied.[4] When all the voices of their wives in it You took on you with voice so like and fit, And ev’ry man by name so visited, That I, Ulysses, the king Diomed, (Set in the midst, and hearing how you call’d) Tydides, and myself (as half appall’d With your remorseful plaints) would passing fain Have broke our silence, rather than again Endure, respectless, their so moving cries. But Ithacus our strongest phantasies Contain’d within us from the slenderest noise, And ev’ry man there sat without a voice. Anticlus only would have answer’d thee, But his speech Ithacus incessantly With strong hand held in, till, Minerva’s call Charging thee off, Ulysses sav’d us all.”

Telemachus replied: “Much greater is My grief, for hearing this high praise of his. For all this doth not his sad death divert, Nor can, though in him swell’d an iron heart. Prepare, and lead then, if you please, to rest: Sleep, that we hear not, will content us best.” Then Argive Helen made her handmaid go, And put fair bedding in the portico, Lay purple blankets on, rugs warm and soft, And cast an arras coverlet aloft.

They torches took, made haste, and made the bed; When both the guests were to their lodgings led Within a portico without the house. Atrides, and his large-train-wearing spouse, The excellent of women, for the way, In a retir’d receit, together lay. The Morn arose; the king rose, and put on His royal weeds, his sharp sword hung upon His ample shoulders, forth his chamber went, And did the person of a God present.

Telemachus accosts him, who begun Speech of his journey’s proposition:

“And what, my young Ulyssean heroë, Provok’d thee on the broad back of the sea, To visit Lacedæmon the divine? Speak truth, some public [good] or only thine?”

“I come,” said he, “to hear, if any fame Breath’d of my father to thy notice came. My house is sack’d, my fat works of the field Are all destroy’d; my house doth nothing yield But enemies, that kill my harmless sheep, And sinewy oxen, nor will ever keep Their steels without them. And these men are they That woo my mother, most inhumanly Committing injury on injury. To thy knees therefore I am come, t’ attend Relation of the sad and wretched end My erring father felt, if witness’d by Your own eyes, or the certain news that fly From others’ knowledges. For, more than is The usual heap of human miseries, His mother bore him to. Vouchsafe me then, Without all ruth of what I can sustain, The plain and simple truth of all you know. Let me beseech so much, if ever vow Was made, and put in good effect to you, At Troy, where suff’rance bred you so much smart, Upon my father good Ulysses’ part, And quit it now to me (himself in youth) Unfolding only the uncloséd truth.”

He, deeply sighing, answer’d him: “O shame, That such poor vassals should affect the fame To share the joys of such a worthy’s bed! As when a hind, her calves late farrowéd, To give suck, enters the bold lion’s den, He roots of hills and herby vallies then For food (there feeding) hunting; but at length Returning to his cavern, gives his strength The lives of both the mother and her brood In deaths indecent; so the Wooers’ blood Must pay Ulysses’ pow’rs as sharp an end. O would to Jove, Apollo, and thy friend The wise Minerva, that thy father were As once he was, when he his spirits did rear Against Philomelides, in a fight Perform’d in well-built Lesbos, where, down-right He strook the earth with him, and gat a shout Of all the Grecians! O, if now full out He were as then, and with the Wooers coped, Short-liv’d they all were, and their nuptials hoped Would prove as desp’rate. But, for thy demand Enforc’d with pray’rs, I’ll let thee understand The truth directly, nor decline a thought, Much less deceive, or sooth thy search in ought; But what the old and still-true-spoken God, That from the sea breathes oracles abroad, Disclos’d to me, to thee I’ll all impart, Nor hide one word from thy sollicitous heart.

I was in Ægypt, where a mighty time The Gods detain’d me, though my natural clime I never so desir’d, because their homes I did not greet with perfect hecatombs. For they will put men evermore in mind, How much their masterly commandments bind.

There is, besides, a certain island, call’d Pharos, that with the high-wav’d sea is wall’d, Just against Ægypt, and so much remote, As in a whole day, with a fore-gale smote, A hollow ship can sail. And this isle bears A port most portly, where sea-passengers Put in still for fresh water, and away To sea again. Yet here the Gods did stay My fleet full twenty days; the winds, that are Masters at sea, no prosp’rous puff would spare To put us off; and all my victuals here Had quite corrupted, as my men’s minds were, Had not a certain Goddess giv’n regard, And pitied me in an estate so hard; And ’twas Idothea, honour’d Proteus’ seed, That old sea-farer. Her mind I make bleed With my compassion, when (walk’d all alone, From all my soldiers, that were ever gone About the isle on fishing with hooks bent; Hunger their bellies on her errand sent) She came close to me, spake, and thus began:

‘Of all men thou art the most foolish man! Or slack in business, or stay’st here of choice, And dost in all thy suff’rances rejoice, That thus long liv’st detain’d here, and no end Canst give thy tarriance? Thou dost much offend The minds of all thy fellows.’ I replied:

‘Whoever thou art of the Deified, I must affirm, that no way with my will I make abode here; but, it seems, some ill The Gods, inhabiting broad heav’n, sustain Against my getting off. Inform me then, For Godheads all things know, what God is he That stays my passage from the fishy sea?’

‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘I’ll tell thee true: There lives An old sea-farer in these seas, that gives A true solution of all secrets here, Who deathless Proteus is, th’ Ægyptian peer, Who can the deeps of all the seas exquire, Who Neptune’s priest is, and, they say, the sire That did beget me. Him, if any way Thou couldst inveigle, he would clear display Thy course from hence, and how far off doth lie Thy voyage’s whole scope through Neptune’s sky. Informing thee, O God-preserv’d, beside, If thy desires would so be satisfied, Whatever good or ill hath got event, In all the time thy long and hard course spent, Since thy departure from thy house.’ This said; Again I answer’d: ‘Make the sleights display’d Thy father useth, lest his foresight see, Or his foreknowledge taking note of me, He flies the fixt place of his us’d abode. ’Tis hard for man to countermine with God.’