The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (77 page)

Who now, by fate forc’d, stoop’d as low as it.

And here sat Nestor, holding in his hand

A sceptre; and about him round did stand,

As early up, his sons’ troop: Perseus,

The god-like Thrasymed, and Aretus,

Echephron, Stratius, the sixth and last

Pisistratus, and by him (half embrac’d

Still as they came) divine Telemachus;

To these spake Nestor, old Gerenius.

‘Haste, loved sons, and do me a desire,

That, first of all the gods, I may aspire

To Pallas’ favour, who vouchsa
f
’
d to me

At Neptune’s feast her sight so openly.

Let one to field go, and an ox with speed

Cause hither brought, which let the herdsman lead;

Another to my dear guest’s vessel go,

And all his soldiers bring, save only two;

A third the smith that works in gold command

(Laertius) to attend, and lend his hand,

To plate the both horns round about with gold;

The rest remain here close. But first, see told

The maids within, that they prepare a feast,

Set seats through all the court, see straight address’d

The purest water, and get fuel fell’d.’

This said, not one but in the service held

Officious hand. The ox came led from field;

The soldiers troop’d from ship; the smith he came,

And those tools brought that serv’d the actual frame

His art conceiv’d; brought anvil, hammers brought,

Fair tongs, and all, with which the gold was wrought.

Minerva likewise came, to set the crown

On that kind sacrifice, and make ’t her own.

Then th’ old knight Nestor gave the smith the gold,

With which he straight did both the horns infold,

And trimm’d the offering so, the goddess joy’d.

About which thus were Nestor’s sons employ’d:

Divine Echephron and fair Stratius

Held both the horns. The water odorous,

In which they wash’d what to the rites was vow’d,

Aretus, in a cauldron all bestrow’d

With herbs and flow’rs, serv’d in from th’ holy room

Where all were drest, and whence the rites must come.

And after him a hallow’d virgin came,

That brought the barley-cake, and blew the flame.

The axe, with which the ox should both be fell’d

And cut forth, Thrasymed stood by and held.

Perseus the vessel held that should retain

The purple liquor of the of
f
’
ring slain.

Then wash’d the pious father, then the cake

(Of barley, salt and oil made) took, and brake,

Ask’d many a boon of Pallas, and the state

Of all the offering did initiate,

In three parts cutting off the hair, and cast

Amidst the flame. All th’ invocation past,

And all the cake broke, manly Thrasymed

Stood near and sure, and such a blow he laid

Aloft the offering, that to earth he sunk,

His neck-nerves sunder’d, and his spirits shrunk.

Out shriek’d the daughters, daughter-in-laws, and wife

Of three-aged Nestor, who had eldest life

Of Clymen’s daughters, chaste Eurydice.

The ox on broad earth then laid laterally

They held, while duke Pisistratus the throat

Dissolv’d, and set the sable blood afloat,

And then the life the bones left. Instantly

They cut him up; apart flew either thigh,

That with the fat they dubb’d, with art alone

The throat-brisk and the sweetbread pricking on.

Then Nestor broil’d them on the coal-turn’d wood,

Pour’d black wine on; and by him young men stood,

That spits fine-pointed held, on which, when burn’d

The solid thighs were, they transfix’d, and turn’d

The innards, cut in cantles; which, the meat

Vow’d to the gods consum’d, they roast and eat.

In mean space, Polycaste (call’d the fair,

Nestor’s young’st daughter) bath’d Ulysses’ heir;

Whom having cleans’d, and with rich balms bespread,

She cast a white shirt quickly o’er his head,

And then his weeds put on; when forth he went,

And did the person of a god present,

Came, and by Nestor took his honour’d seat,

This pastor of the people. Then, the meat

Of all the spare parts roasted, off they drew,

Sat, and fell to. But soon the temperate few

Rose, and in golden bowls fill’d others’ wine.

Till, when the rest felt thirst of feast decline,

Nestor his sons bad fetch his high-man’d horse,

And them in chariot join, to run the course

The prince resolv’d. Obey’d as soon as heard

Was Nestor by his sons, who straight prepar’d

Both horse and chariot. She that kept the store

Both bread and wine, and all such viands more

As should the feast of Jove-fed kings compose,

Purvey’d the voyage. To the rich coach rose

Ulysses’ son, and close to him ascended

The duke Pisistratus, the reins intended,

And scourg’d, to force to field; who freely flew,

And left the town that far her splendour threw,

Both holding yoke, and shook it all the day.

But now the sun set, dark’ning every way,

When they to Pheris came, and in the house

Of Diocles (the son t’ Orsilochus,

Whom flood Alpheus got) slept all that night;

Who gave them each due hospitable rite.

But when the rosy-finger’d morn arose,

They went to coach, and did their horse inclose,

Drave forth the forecourt, and the porch that yields

Each breath a sound, and to the fruitful fields

Rode scourging still their willing flying steeds,

Who strenuously perform’d their wonted speeds –

Their journey ending just when sun went down

And shadows all ways through the earth were thrown.

The end of the third book

Book 4

The Argument

Received 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 lived 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

Delta

Here of the sire

The son doth hear.

The wooers conspire,

The mother’s fear.

Book 4

In Lacedaemon now, the nurse of whales,

These two arriv’d, and found at festivals,

With mighty concourse, the renowned 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 heavenly 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.

All this time in the outer 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 thorough it. And then they led

Their guests to the divine house, which so fed

Their eyes at all parts with illustrious sights,

That admiration seized 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 cauldron, 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 reverend 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 given 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):

‘Consider, thou whom most 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 overheard, and said: ‘Lov’d son,

No mortal must affect contention

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, Phoenicia, and Sidonia,

And fetch’d the far-off Ethiopia,

Reach’d the Erembi of Arabia,

And Libya, where with horns ewes yean their lambs –

Which every 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 murderously,

Unwares, unseen, bereft my brother’s life,

Chiefly betray’d by his abhorred wife.

So hold I, not enjoying, what you see.

And of your fathers, if they living be,

You must have heard this, since my sufferings were

So great and famous, from this palace here

(So rarely-well-built, furnished so well,

And substanced 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 revived 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 even 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 used 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,

Given by Alcandra, nuptially endear’d

To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes

Th’ Egyptian city was, where wealth in heaps

His famous house held, out of which did go,

In gift t’ Atrides, silver bathtubs 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 footstool’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 deceived 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

Power 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 eye’s 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 grieved and injured by the miss

Of his great father; suffering even at home,

And few friends found to help him overcome

His too weak suf
f
’
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 resolved, 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 every 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 exhaled, 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