Part 9

With these last words I fortified my breast, In which again a gen’rous spring began Of fitting comfort, as I was a man; But, as a brother, I must ever mourn. Yet forth I went, and told him the return Of these I knew; but he had nam’d a third, Held on the broad sea, still with life inspir’d, Whom I besought to know, though likewise dead, And I must mourn alike. He answeréd: ‘He is Laertes’ son; whom I beheld In nymph Calypso’s palace, who compell’d His stay with her, and, since he could not see His country earth, he mourn’d incessantly. For he had neither ship instruct with oars, Nor men to fetch him from those stranger shores. Where leave we him, and to thy self descend, Whom not in Argos Fate nor Death shall end, But the immortal ends of all the earth, So rul’d by them that order death by birth, The fields Elysian, Fate to thee will give; Where Rhadamanthus rules, and where men live A never-troubled life, where snow, nor show’rs, Nor irksome Winter spends his fruitless pow’rs, But from the ocean Zephyr still resumes A constant breath, that all the fields perfumes. Which, since thou marriedst Helen, are thy hire, And Jove himself is by her side thy sire.’ This said; he div’d the deepsome wat’ry heaps; I and my tried men took us to our ships, And worlds of thoughts I varied with my steps. Arriv’d and shipp’d, the silent solemn night And sleep bereft us of our visual light. At morn, masts, sails, rear’d, we sat, left the shores, And beat the foamy ocean with our oars. Again then we the Jove-fall’n flood did fetch, As far as Ægypt; where we did beseech The Gods with hecatombs; whose angers ceast, I tomb’d my brother that I might be blest. All rites perform’d, all haste I made for home, And all the prosp’rous winds about were come, I had the passport now of ev’ry God, And here clos’d all these labours’ period. Here stay then till th’ eleventh or twelfth day’s light, And I’ll dismiss thee well, gifts exquisite Preparing for thee, chariot, horses three, A cup of curious frame to serve for thee To serve th’ immortal Gods with sacrifice, Mindful of me while all suns light thy skies.” He answer’d: “Stay me not too long time here, Though I could sit attending all the year. Nor should my house, nor parents, with desire, Take my affections from you, so on fire With love to hear you are my thoughts; but so My Pylian friends I shall afflict with woe Who mourn ev’n this stay. Whatsoever be The gifts your grace is to bestow on me, Vouchsafe them such as I may bear and save For your sake ever. Horse, I list not have, To keep in Ithaca, but leave them here, To your soil’s dainties, where the broad fields bear Sweet cypers grass, where men-fed lote doth flow, Where wheat-like spelt, and wheat itself, doth grow, Where barley, white, and spreading like a tree; But Ithaca hath neither ground to be, For any length it comprehends, a race To try a horse’s speed, nor any place To make him fat in; fitter far to feed A cliff-bred goat, than raise or please a steed. Of all isles, Ithaca doth least provide Or meads to feed a horse, or ways to ride.” He, smiling, said: “Of good blood art thou, son. What speech, so young! What observatión Hast thou made of the world! I well am pleas’d To change my gifts to thee, as being confess’d Unfit indeed, my store is such I may. Of all my house-gifts then, that up I lay For treasure there, I will bestow on thee The fairest, and of greatest price to me. I will bestow on thee a rich carv’d cup, Of silver all, but all the brims wrought up With finest gold; it was the only thing That the heroical Sidonian king Presented to me, when we were to part At his receipt of me, and ’twas the art Of that great Artist that of heav’n is free; And yet ev’n this will I bestow on thee.” This speech thus ended, guests came, and did bring Muttons, for presents, to the God-like king, And spirit-prompting wine, that strenuous makes. Their riband-wreathed wives brought fruit and cakes. Thus in this house did these their feast apply; And in Ulysses’ house activity The Wooers practis’d; tossing of the spear, The stone, and hurling; thus delighted, where They exercis’d such insolence before, Ev’n in the court that wealthy pavements wore Antinous did still their strifes decide, And he that was in person deified Eurymachus; both ring-leaders of all, For in their virtues they were principal. These by Noëmon, son to Phronius, Were sided now, who made the question thus: “Antinous! Does any friend here know, When this Telemachus returns, or no, From sandy Pylos? He made bold to take My ship with him; of which, I now should make Fit use myself, and sail in her as far As spacious Elis, where of mine there are Twelve delicate mares, and under their sides go Laborious mules, that yet did never know The yoke, nor labour; some of which should bear The taming now, if I could fetch them there.” This speech the rest admir’d, nor dream’d that he Neleïan Pylos ever thought to see, But was at field about his flocks’ survey, Or thought his herdsmen held him so away. Eupitheus son, Antinous, then replied: “When went he, or with what train dignified? Of his selected Ithacensian youth? Prest men, or bond men, were they? Tell the truth. Could he effect this? Let me truly know. To gain thy vessel did he violence show, And us’d her ’gainst thy will? or had her free, When fitting question he had made with thee?” Noëmon answer’d: “I did freely give My vessel to him. Who deserves to live That would do other, when such men as he Did in distress ask? He should churlish be That would deny him. Of our youth the best Amongst the people, to the interest His charge did challenge in them, giving way, With all the tribute all their pow’rs could pay. Their captain, as he took the ship, I knew, Who Mentor was, or God. A Deity’s shew Mask’d in his likeness. But, to think ’twas he, I much admire, for I did clearly see, But yester-morning, God-like Mentor here; Yet th’ other ev’ning he took shipping there, And went for Pylos.” Thus went he for home, And left the rest with envy overcome; Who sat, and pastime left. Eupitheus son, Sad, and with rage his entrails overrun, His eyes like flames, thus interpos’d his speech: “Strange thing! An action of how proud a reach Is here committed by Telemachus! A boy, a child, and we, a sort of us, Vow’d ’gainst his voyage, yet admit it thus! With ship and choice youth of our people too! But let him on, and all his mischief do, Jove shall convert upon himself his pow’rs, Before their ill presum’d he brings on ours. Provide me then a ship, and twenty men To give her manage, that, against again He turns for home, on th’ Ithacensian seas, Or cliffy Samian, I may interprease, Way-lay, and take him, and make all his craft Sail with his ruin for his father saft.” This all applauded, and gave charge to do, Rose, and to greet Ulysses’ house did go. But long time past not, ere Penelope Had notice of their far-fetch’d treachery. Medon the herald told her, who had heard Without the hall how they within conferr’d, And hasted straight to tell it to the queen, Who, from the entry having Medon seen, Prevents him thus: “Now herald, what affair Intend the famous Wooers, in your repair? To tell Ulysses’ maids that they must cease From doing our work, and their banquets dress? I would to heav’n, that, leaving wooing me, Nor ever troubling other company, Here might the last feast be, and most extreme, That ever any shall address for them. They never meet but to consent in spoil, And reap the free fruits of another’s toil. O did they never, when they children were, What to their fathers was Ulysses, hear? Who never did ’gainst anyone proceed With unjust usage, or in word or deed? ’Tis yet with other kings another right, One to pursue with love, another spite; He still yet just, nor would, though might, devour, Nor to the worst did ever taste of pow’r. But their unrul’d acts show their minds’ estate. Good turns receiv’d once, thanks grow out of date.” Medon, the learn’d in wisdom, answer’d her: “I wish, O queen, that their ingratitudes were Their worst ill towards you; but worse by far, And much more deadly, their endeavours are, Which Jove will fail them in. Telemachus Their purpose is, as he returns to us, To give their sharp steels in a cruel death; Who now is gone to learn, if fame can breathe News of his sire, and will the Pylian shore, And sacred Sparta, in his search explore.” This news dissolv’d to her both knees and heart, Long silence held her ere one word would part, Her eyes stood full of tears, her small soft voice All late use lost; that yet at last had choice Of wonted words, which briefly thus she us’d: “Why left my son his mother? Why refus’d His wit the solid shore, to try the seas, And put in ships the trust of his distress, That are at sea to men unbridled horse, And run, past rule, their far-engagéd course, Amidst a moisture past all mean unstaid? No need compell’d this. Did he it, afraid To live and leave posterity his name?” “I know not,” he replied, “if th’ humour came From current of his own instinct, or flow’d From others’ instigations; but he vow’d Attempt to Pylos, or to see descried His sire’s return, or know what death he died.” This said, he took him to Ulysses’ house After the Wooers; the Ulyssean spouse, Run through with woes, let Torture seize her mind, Nor in her choice of state chairs stood inclin’d To take her seat, but th’ abject threshold chose Of her fair chamber for her loath’d repose, And mourn’d most wretch-like. Round about her fell Her handmaids, join’d in a continuate yell. From ev’ry corner of the palace, all Of all degrees tun’d to her comfort’s fall Their own dejections; to whom her complaint She thus enforc’d: “The Gods, beyond constraint Of any measure, urge these tears on me; Nor was there ever dame of my degree So past degree griev’d. First, a lord so good, That had such hardy spirits in his blood, That all the virtues was adorn’d withall, That all the Greeks did their superior call, To part with thus, and lose! And now a son, So worthily belov’d, a course to run Beyond my knowledge; whom rude tempests have Made far from home his most inglorious grave! Unhappy wenches, that no one of all (Though in the reach of ev’ry one must fall His taking ship) sustain’d the careful mind, To call me from my bed, who this design’d And most vow’d course in him had either stay’d, How much soever hasted, or dead laid He should have left me. Many a man I have, That would have call’d old Dolius my slave, (That keeps my orchard, whom my father gave At my departure) to have run, and told Laertes this; to try if he could hold From running through the people, and from tears, In telling them of these vow’d murderers; That both divine Ulysses’ hope, and his, Resolv’d to end in their conspiracies.” His nurse then, Euryclea, made reply: “Dear sov’reign, let me with your own hands die, Or cast me off here, I’ll not keep from thee One word of what I know. He trusted me With all his purpose, and I gave him all The bread and wine for which he pleas’d to call. But then a mighty oath he made me swear, Not to report it to your royal ear Before the twelfth day either should appear, Or you should ask me when you heard him gone. Impair not then your beauties with your moan, But wash, and put untear-stain’d garments on, Ascend your chamber with your ladies here, And pray the seed of goat-nurs’d Jupiter, Divine Athenia, to preserve your son, And she will save him from confusión, Th’ old king, to whom your hopes stand so inclin’d For his grave counsels, you perhaps may find Unfit affected, for his age’s sake. But heav’n-kings wax not old, and therefore make Fit pray’rs to them; for my thoughts never will Believe the heav’nly Pow’rs conceit so ill The seed of righteous Arcesiades, To end it utterly, but still will please In some place evermore some one of them To save, and deck him with a diadem, Give him possession of erected tow’rs, And far-stretch’d fields, crown’d all of fruits and flowr’s.” This eas’d her heart, and dried her humorous eyes, When having wash’d, and weeds of sacrifice Pure, and unstain’d with her distrustful tears, Put on, with all her women-ministers Up to a chamber of most height she rose, And cakes of salt and barley did impose Within a wicker basket; all which broke In decent order, thus she did invoke: “Great Virgin of the goat-preservéd God, If ever the inhabited abode Of wise Ulysses held the fatted thighs Of sheep and oxen, made thy sacrifice By his devotion, hear me, nor forget His pious services, but safe see set His dear son on these shores, and banish hence These Wooers past all mean in insolence.” This said, she shriek’d, and Pallas heard her pray’r. The Wooers broke with tumult all the air About the shady house; and one of them, Whose pride his youth had made the more extreme, Said: “Now the many-wooer-honour’d queen Will surely satiate her delayful spleen, And one of us in instant nuptials take. Poor dame, she dreams not, what design we make Upon the life and slaughter of her son.” So said he; but so said was not so done; Whose arrogant spirit in a vaunt so vain Antinous chid, and said: “For shame, contain These braving speeches. Who can tell who hears? Are we not now in reach of others’ ears? If our intentions please us, let us call Our spirits up to them, and let speeches fall. By watchful danger men must silent go. What we resolve on, let’s not say, but do.” This said, he choos’d out twenty men, that bore Best reckoning with him, and to ship and shore All hasted, reach’d the ship, launch’d, rais’d the mast, Put sails in, and with leather loops made fast The oars; sails hoisted, arms their men did bring, All giving speed and form to ev’rything. Then to the high deeps their rigg’d vessel driven, They supp’d, expecting the approaching even. Mean space, Penelope her chamber kept And bed, and neither eat, nor drank, nor slept, Her strong thoughts wrought so on her blameless son, Still in contention, if he should be done To death, or ‘scape the impious Wooers’ design. Look how a lion, whom men-troops combine To hunt, and close him in a crafty ring, Much varied thought conceives, and fear doth sting For urgent danger; so far’d she, till sleep All juncture of her joints and nerves did steep In his dissolving humour. When, at rest, Pallas her favours varied, when addrest An idol, that Iphthima did present In structure of her ev’ry lineament,[5] Great-soul’d Icarius’ daughter, whom for spouse Eumelus took, that kept in Pheris’ house. This to divine Ulysses’ house she sent, To try her best mean how she might content Mournful Penelope, and make relent The strict addiction in her to deplore. This idol, like a worm, that less or more[6] Contracts or strains her, did itself convey, Beyond the wards or windings of the key, Into the chamber, and, above her head Her seat assuming, thus she comforted Distress’d Penelope: “Doth sleep thus seize Thy pow’rs, affected with so much dis-ease? The Gods, that nothing troubles, will not see Thy tears nor griefs, in any least degree, Sustain’d with cause, for they will guard thy son Safe to his wish’d and native mansión. Since he is no offender of their states, And they to such are firmer than their fates.” The wise Penelope receiv’d her thus, Bound with a slumber most delicious, And in the port of dreams: “O sister, why Repair you hither, since so far off lie Your house and household? You were never here Before this hour, and would you now give cheer To my so many woes and miseries, Affecting fitly all the faculties My soul and mind hold, having lost before A husband, that of all the virtues bore The palm amongst the Greeks, and whose renown So ample was that Fame the sound hath blown Through Greece and Argos to her very heart? And now again, a son, that did convert My whole pow’rs to his love, by ship is gone; A tender plant, that yet was never grown To labour’s taste, nor the commerce of men; For whom more than my husband I complain, And lest he should at any suff’rance touch (Or in the sea, or by the men so much Estrang’d to him that must his consorts be) Fear and chill tremblings shake each joint of me. Besides, his danger sets on foes profess’d To way-lay his return, that have address’d Plots for his death.” The scarce-discernéd Dream, Said: “Be of comfort, nor fears so extreme Let thus dismay thee; thou hast such a mate Attending thee, as some at any rate Would wish to purchase, for her pow’r is great; Minerva pities thy delights’ defeat, Whose grace hath sent me to foretell thee these.” “If thou,” said she, “be of the Goddesses, And heardst her tell thee these, thou mayst as well From her tell all things else. Deign then to tell, If yet the man to all misfortunes born, My husband, lives, and sees the sun adorn The darksome earth, or hides his wretched head In Pluto’s house, and lives amongst the dead?” “I will not,” she replied, “my breath exhale In one continued and perpetual tale, Lives he or dies he. ’Tis a filthy use, To be in vain and idle speech profuse.” This said, she, through the key-hole of the door, Vanish’d again into the open blore. Icarius’ daughter started from her sleep, And Joy’s fresh humour her lov’d breast did steep, When now so clear, in that first watch of night, She saw the seen Dream vanish from her sight. The Wooers’ ship the sea’s moist waves did ply, And thought the prince a haughty death should die. There lies a certain island in the sea, Twixt rocky Samos and rough Ithaca, That cliffy is itself, and nothing great, Yet holds convenient havens that two ways let Ships in and out, call’d Asteris; and there The Wooers hop’d to make their massacre.

FINIS LIBRI QUARTI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] _Αακεδαἰμονα κητὠσσαν_ which is expounded _Spartam amplam,_ or _πεγἀλην magnam;_ where _κητὠεσσαν_ signifies properly _plurima cete nutrientem._

[2] _Μολπης ἐ ἄρχοντες Cantum auspicantes:_ of which place, the critics affirm that _saltatores motu suo indicant cantori quo genere cantus saltaturi forent._ The rapture of Eteoneus at sight of Telemachus and Pisistratus.

[3] Telemachus to Pisistratus, in observation of the house, not so much that he heartily admired it, as to please Menelaus, who he knew heard, though he seemed desirous he should not hear.

[4] Helen counterfeited the wives’ voices of those kings of Greece that were in the wooden horse, and calls their husbands.

[5] _Δἐμας, membrorum structura._

[6] _Παρἁ κληîδος ἱμἀντα. Ιμἀς, affectus curculionis significat quod longior et gracilior evaserit._

THE FIFTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

A second Court on Jove attends; Who Hermes to Calypso sends, Commanding her to clear the ways Ulysses sought; and she obeys. When Neptune saw Ulysses free, And so in safety plough the sea, Enrag’d, he ruffles up the waves, And splits his ship. Leucothea saves His person yet, as being a Dame Whose Godhead govern’d in the frame Of those seas’ tempers. But the mean, By which she curbs dread Neptune’s spleen, Is made a jewel, which she takes From off her head, and that she makes Ulysses on his bosom wear, About his neck, she ties it there, And, when he is with waves beset, Bids wear it as an amulet, Commanding him, that not before He touch’d upon Phæacia’s shore, He should not part with it, but then Return it to the sea again, And cast it from him. He performs; Yet, after this, bides bitter storms, And in the rocks sees death engrav’d, But on Phæacia’s shore is sav’d.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

E. Ulysses builds A ship; and gains The glassy fields; Pays Neptune pains.