The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (80 page)

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 godlike 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 exercised such insolence before,

Even in the court that wealthy pavements wore.

Antinous did still their strifes decide,

And he that was in person deified

Eurymachus, both ringleaders of all,

For in their virtues they were principal.

These by Noemon, 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?

Press’d 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 used her ’gainst thy will? Or had her free,

When fitting question he had made with thee?’

Noemon 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 powers could pay.

Their captain, as he took the ship, I knew;

Who Mentor was, or god – a deity’s show

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 evening 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 sav’d.’

This all applauded, and gave charge to do;

Rose, and to greet Ulysses’ house did go.

But long time pass’d 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 any one 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 received 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-engaged 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 every 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 withal,

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 every 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 sovereign, 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,
0

Or you should ask me when you heard him gone.

Impair not then your beauties with your moan,

But wash, and put untearstain’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 confusion.

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.
10

But heaven-kings wax not old, and therefore make

Fit prayers to them; for my thoughts never will

Believe the heavenly 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 flow’rs.’

This eas’d her heart, and dried her humorous eyes,
20

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-preserved god,

If ever the inhabited abode

Of wise Ulysses held the fatted thighs
30

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 prayer.

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
40

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
50

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 reck’ning 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 everything.

Then to the high deeps their rigg’d vessel driv
’
n,
60

They supp’d, expecting the approaching ev’n.

Mean space, Penelope her chamber kept

And bed, and neither ate, 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 fared she, till sleep
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All juncture of her joints and nerves did steep

In his dissolving humour; when, at rest,

Pallas her favours varied, and address’d

An idol, that Iphthima did present

In structure of her every lineament,

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
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The strict addiction in her to deplore.

This idol, like a worm, that less or more

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,
90

Sustain’d with cause, for they will guard thy son

Safe to his wish’d and native mansion,

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,