The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (72 page)

Is Mentas, the commanding islander

Of all the Taphians studious in the art

Of navigation, having touch’d this part

With ship and men, of purpose to maintain

Course through the dark seas t’ other-languag’d men;

And Temesis sustains the city’s name

For which my ship is bound, made known by fame

For rich in brass, which my occasions need,

And therefore bring I shining steel in stead,

Which their use wants, yet makes my vessel’s freight,

That near a plough’d field rides at anchor’s weight,

Apart this city, in the harbour call’d

Rhethrus, whose waves with Neius’ woods are wall’d.

Thy sire and I were ever mutual guests,

At either’s house still interchanging feasts.

I glory in it. Ask, when thou shalt see

Laertes, th’ old heroë, these of me,

From the beginning. He, men say, no more

Visits the city, but will needs deplore

His son’s believed loss in a private field,

One old maid only at his hands to yield

Food to his life, as oft as labour makes

His old limbs faint – which, though he creeps, he takes

Along a fruitful plain, set all with vines,

Which husbandman-like, though a king, he proins.

But now I come to be thy father’s guest;

I hear he wanders, while these wooers feast.

And (as th’ immortals prompt me at this hour)

I’ll tell thee, out of a prophetic pow’r

(Not as profess’d a prophet, nor clear seen

At all times what shall after chance to men),

What I conceive, for this time, will be true:

The gods’ inflictions keep your sire from you.

Divine Ulysses yet abides, not dead

Above earth, nor beneath, nor buried

In any seas, as you did late conceive,

But, with the broad sea sieged, is kept alive

Within an isle by rude and upland men,

That in his spite his passage home detain.

Yet long it shall not be before he tread

His country’s dear earth, though solicited,

And held from his return, with iron chains;

For he hath wit to forge a world of trains,

And will, of all, be sure to make good one

For his return, so much relied upon.

But tell me, and be true: art thou indeed

So much a son, as to be said the seed

Of Ithacus himsel
f
? Exceeding much

Thy forehead and fair eyes at his form touch;

For oftentimes we met, as you and I

Meet at this hour, before he did apply

His pow’rs for Troy, when other Grecian states

In hollow ships were his associates.

But, since that time, mine eyes could never see

Renown’d Ulysses, nor met his with me.’

The wise Telemachus again replied:

‘You shall with all I know be satisfied.

My mother certain says I am his son;

I know not, nor was ever simply known

By any child the sure truth of his sire.

But would my veins had took in living fire

From some man happy, rather than one wise,

Whom age might see seiz’d of what youth made prize.

But he whoever of the mortal race

Is most unblest, he holds my father’s place.

This, since you ask, I answer.’ She, again:

‘The gods sure did not make the future strain

Both of thy race and days obscure to thee,

Since thou wert born so of Penelope.

The style may by thy after acts be won,

Of so great sire the high undoubted son.

Say truth in this then: what’s this feasting here?

What all this rout? Is all this nuptial cheer,

Or else some friendly banquet made by thee?

For here no shots are, where all sharers be.

Past measure contumeliously this crew

Fare through thy house; which should th’ ingenuous view

Of any good or wise man come and find

(Impiety seeing play’d in every kind),

He could not but through ev’ry vein be mov’d.’

Again Telemachus: ‘My guest much loved,

Since you demand and sift these sights so far,

I grant ’twere fit a house so regular,

Rich, and so faultless once in government,

Should still at all parts the same form present

That gave it glory while her lord was here.

But now the gods, that us displeasure bear,

Have otherwise appointed, and disgrace

My father most of all the mortal race.

For whom I could not mourn so were he dead,

Amongst his fellow captains slaughtered

By common enemies, or in the hands

Of his kind friends had ended his commands,

After he had egregiously bestow’d

His power and order in a war so
vow’d,

And to his tomb all Greeks their grace had done,

That to all ages he might leave his son

Immortal honour; but now Harpies have

Digg’d in their gorges his abhorred grave.

Obscure, inglorious, death hath made his end,

And me, for glories, to all griefs contend.

Nor shall I any more mourn him alone,

The gods have giv’n me other cause of moan.

For look how many optimates remain

In Samos, or the shores Dulichian,

Shady Zacynthus, or how many bear

Rule in the rough brows of this island here:

So many now my mother and this house

At all parts make defamed and ruinous;

And she her hateful nuptials nor denies

Nor will dispatch their importunities,

Though she beholds them spoil still as they feast

All my free house yields, and the little rest

Of my dead sire in me perhaps intend

To bring ere long to some untimely end.’

This Pallas sigh’d and answer’d: ‘O,’ said she,

‘Absent Ulysses is much miss’d by thee,

That on these shameless suitors he might lay

His wreakful hands. Should he now come, and stay

In thy court’s first gates, arm’d with helm and shield,

And two such darts as I have seen him wield,

When first I saw him in our Taphian court,

Feasting, and doing his desert’s disport;

When from Ephyrus he return’d by us

From Ilus, son to centaur Mermerus,

To whom he travell’d through the watery dreads,

For bane to poison his sharp arrows’ heads

That death, but touch’d, caus’d; which he would not give,

Because he fear’d the gods that ever live

Would plague such death with death; and yet their fear

Was to my father’s bosom not so dear

As was thy father’s love (for what he sought

My loving father found him to a thought);

If such as then Ulysses might but meet

With these proud wooers, all were at his feet

But instant dead men, and their nuptials

Would prove as bitter as their dying galls.

But these things in the gods’ knees are repos’d –

If his return shall see with wreak inclos’d

These in his house, or he return no more.

And therefore I advise thee to explore

All ways thyself, to set these wooers gone;

To which end give me fit attention:

Tomorrow into solemn council call

The Greek heroës, and declare to all

(The gods being witness) what thy pleasure is.

Command to towns of their nativity

These frontless wooers. If thy mother’s mind

Stands to her second nuptials so inclin’d,

Return she to her royal father’s tow’rs,

Where th’ one of these may wed her, and her dow’rs

Make rich, and such as may consort with grace

So dear a daughter of so great a race.

And thee I warn as well (if thou as well

Wilt hear and follow): take thy best-built sail,

With twenty oars mann’d, and haste t’ inquire

Where the abode is of thy absent sire,

If any can inform thee, or thine ear

From Jove the fame of his retreat may hear;

For chiefly Jove gives all that honours men.

To Pylos first be thy addression then,

To god-like Nestor; thence to Sparta haste,

To gold-lock’d Menelaus, who was last

Of all the brass-arm’d Greeks that sail’d from Troy;

And try from both these, if thou canst enjoy

News of thy sire’s return’d life anywhere,

Though sad thou suffer’st in his search a year.

If of his death thou hear’st, return thou home,

And to his memory erect a tomb,

Performing parent-rites of feast and game,

Pompous, and such as best may fit his fame;

And then thy mother a fit husband give.

These past, consider how thou mayst deprive

Of worthless life these wooers in thy house,

By open force or projects enginous.

Things childish fit not thee; th’ art so no more.

Hast thou not heard how all men did adore

Divine Orestes, after he had slain

Aegisthus murdering by a treacherous train

His famous father? Be then, my most lov’d,

Valiant and manly, every way approv’d

As great as he. I see thy person fit,

Noble thy mind, and excellent thy wit,

All given thee so to use and manage here

That even past death they may their memories bear.

In mean time I’ll descend to ship and men,

That much expect me. Be observant then

Of my advice, and careful to maintain

In equal acts thy royal father’s reign.’

Telemachus replied: ‘You ope, fair guest,

A friend’s heart in your speech, as well express’d

As might a father serve t’ inform his son;

All which sure place have in my memory won.

Abide yet, though your voyage calls away,

That, having bath’d, and dignified your stay

With some more honour, you may yet beside

Delight your mind by being gratified

With some rich present taken in your way,

That, as a jewel, your respect may lay

Up in your treasury, bestow’d by me,

As free friends use to guests of such degree.’

‘Detain me not,’ said she, ‘so much inclin’d

To haste my voyage. What thy loved mind

Commands to give at my return this way,

Bestow on me, that I directly may

Convey it home; which more of price to me

The more it asks my recompense to thee.’

This said, away grey-eyed Minerva flew,

Like to a mounting lark; and did endue

His mind with strength and boldness, and much more

Made him his father long for than before;

And weighing better who his guest might be,

He stood amaz’d, and thought a deity

Was there descended, to whose will he fram’d

His powers at all parts, and went so inflam’d

Amongst the wooers, who were silent set,

To hear a poet sing the sad retreat

The Greeks perform’d from Troy; which was from thence

Proclaim’d by Pallas, pain of her offence.

When which divine song was perceiv’d to bear

That mournful subject by the listening ear

Of wise Penelope, Icarius’ seed,

Who from an upper room had given it heed,

Down she descended by a winding stair,

Not solely, but the state in her repair

Two maids of honour made. And when this queen

Of women stoop’d so low, she might be seen

By all her wooers. In the door, aloof,

Entering the hall grac’d with a goodly roof,

She stood, in shade of graceful veils implied

About her beauties; on her either side,

Her honour’d women. When, to tears mov’d, thus

She chid the sacred singer: ‘Phemius,

You know a number more of these great deeds

Of gods and men, that are the sacred seeds

And proper subjects of a poet’s song,

And those due pleasures that to men belong,

Besides these facts that furnish Troy’s retreat.

Sing one of those to these, that round your seat

They may with silence sit, and taste their wine;

But cease this song, that through these ears of mine

Conveys deserv’d occasion to my heart

Of endless sorrows, of which the desert

In me unmeasur’d is past all these men,

So endless is the memory I retain,

And so desertful is that memory

Of such a man as hath a dignity

So broad it spreads itself through all the pride

Of Greece and Argos.’ To the queen replied

Inspired Telemachus: ‘Why thus envies

My mother him that fits societies

With so much harmony, to let him please

His own mind in his will to honour these?

For these ingenious and first sort of men,

That do immediately from Jove retain

Their singing raptures, are by Jove as well

Inspir’d with choice of what their songs impel;

Jove’s will is free in it, and therefore theirs.

Nor is this man to blame, that the repairs

The Greeks make homeward sings; for his fresh muse

Men still most celebrate that sings most news.

And therefore in his note your ears employ:

For not Ulysses only lost in Troy

The day of his return, but numbers more

The deadly ruins of his fortunes bore.

Go you then in, and take your work in hand,

Your web, and distaff; and your maids command

To ply their fit work. Words to men are due,

And those reproving counsels you pursue –

And most to me of all men, since I bear

The rule of all things that are manag’d here.’

She went amaz’d away, and in her heart

Laid up the wisdom Pallas did impart

To her lov’d son so lately, turn’d again

Up to her chamber, and no more would reign

In manly counsels. To her women she

Applied her sway, and to the wooers he

Began new orders, other spirits bewray’d

Than those in spite of which the wooers sway’d.

And (whiles his mother’s tears still wash’d her eyes,

Till grey Minerva did those tears surprise