The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (84 page)

The town then show me; give my nakedness

Some shroud to shelter it, if to these seas

Linen or woollen you have brought to cleanse.

god give you, in requital, all th’ amends

Your heart can wish, a husband, family,

And good agreement. Nought beneath the sky

More sweet, more worthy is, than firm consent

Of man and wife in household government.

It joys their wishers well, their enemies wounds,

But to themselves the special good redounds.’

She answer’d: ‘Stranger! I discern in thee

Nor sloth nor folly reigns; and yet I see

Th’ art poor and wretched. In which I conclude,

That industry nor wisdom make endu’d

Men with those gifts that make them best to th’ eye;

Jove only orders man’s felicity.

To good and bad his pleasure fashions still

The whole proportion of their good and ill.

And he perhaps hath form’d this plight in thee,

Of which thou must be patient, as he free.

But after all thy wand’rings, since thy way

Both to our earth and near our city lay,

As being expos’d to our cares to relieve,

Weeds, and what else a human hand should give

To one so suppliant and tam’d with woe,

Thou shalt not want. Our city I will show,

And tell our people’s name: this neighbour town,

And all this kingdom, the Phaeacians own.

And (since thou seem’dst so fain to know my birth,

And mad’st a question, if of heav
’
n or earth)

This earth hath bred me, and my father’s name

Alcinous is, that in the power and frame

Of this isle’s rule is supereminent.’

Thus, passing him, she to the virgins went,

And said: ‘Give stay both to your feet and fright.

Why thus disperse ye for a man’s mere sight?

Esteem you him a Cyclop, that long since

Made use to prey upon our citizens?

This man no moist man is,
nor wat’rish thing,

That’s ever flitting, ever ravishing

All it can compass; and, like it, doth range

In rape of women, never stay’d in change;

This man is truly manly, wise, and stay’d,

In soul more rich the more to sense decay’d,

Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done,

Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one

Greet the Phaeacians with a mind envious.

Dear to the gods they are, and he is pious.

Besides, divided from the world we are,

The out-part of it, billows circular

The sea revolving round about our shore;

Nor is there any man that enters more

Than our own countrymen, with what is brought

From other countries. This man, minding nought

But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch,

Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch,

Him now we must provide for. From Jove come

All strangers, and the needy of a home,

Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be,

Esteem as great, and take it gratefully.

And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food

And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood,

Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d.

To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind,

Not only rugged making th’ outward skin,

But by his thin powers pierceth parts within.’

This said, their flight in a return they set,

And did Ulysses with all grace entreat,

Show’d him a shore, wind-proof and full of shade,

By him a shirt and outer mantle laid,

A golden jug of liquid oil did add,

Bad wash and all things as Nausicaa bad.

Divine Ulysses would not use their aid,

But thus bespake them: ‘Every lovely maid,

Let me entreat to stand a little by,

That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply

To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine,

And then use oil, which long time did not shine

On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight

Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright,

To bathe all bare by such a virgin light.’

They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace,

And told their mistress what a man he was.

He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head,

Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed

Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he

Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity

The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire

He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire,

More than before, into his sparkling eyes,

His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise.

His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow
’
r

To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r.

And as a workman, that can well combine

Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine,

As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too,

Taught how far either may be urg’d to go

In strife of eminence, when work sets forth

A worthy soul to bodies of such worth,

No thought reproving th’ act, in any place,

Nor art no debt to nature’s liveliest grace:

So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great

From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat

His goodly presence. To which such a guise

He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes.

All which continu’d, as he sat apart,

Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart,

Who thus bespake her consorts: ‘Hear me, you

Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know,

Treads not our country earth against the will

Of some god thron’d on the Olympian hill.

He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note,

But now he looks as he had godhead got.

I would to heaven my husband were no worse,

And would be call’d no better, but the course

Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here.

Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.’

She said; they heard, and did. He drunk and eat

Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat

A long before time. But Nausicaa now

Thought of the more grace she did lately vow,

Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose,

Up cheer’d her guest, and said: ‘Guest, now dispose

Yourself for town, that I may let you see

My father’s court, where all the peers will be

Of our Phaeacian state. At all parts, then,

Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain –

Though I need usher you with no advice,

Since I suppose you absolutely wise.

While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there,

So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear

Upon my chariot (I must go before

For cause that after comes, to which this more

Be my induction); you shall then soon end

Your way to town, whose tow
’
rs you see ascend

To such a steepness. On whose either side

A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide

An enterer’s passage; on whose both hands ride

Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win

The goodly marketplace (that circles in

A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone,

And passing ample) where munition,

Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars;

For the Phaeacians are not conquerors

By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are

With which they plough the sea, and wage their war.

And now the cause comes why I lead the way,

Not taking you to coach: the men that sway

In work of those tools that so fit our state,

Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late

Work in the marketplace; and those are they

Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say

(For these vile vulgars are extremely proud,

And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d

To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set,

And fairly? Where were these two met?

He shall be sure her husband. She hath been

Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men

Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home

In her own ship. He must, of force, be come

From some far region; we have no such man.

It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran

On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some god

Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road

Her complete life time. But, in sooth, if she,

Ranging abroad, a husband such as he

Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise;

For none of all our nobles are of prize

Enough for her; he must beyond sea come,

That wins her high mind, and will have her home.

Of our peers many have importun’d her,

Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer

Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face

The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace.

And this would be reproaches to my fame,

For ev’n myself just anger would inflame,

If any other virgin I should see,

Her parents living, keep the company

Of any man to any end of love,

Till open nuptials should her act approve.

And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way,

That you yourself may compass, in your stay,

Your quick deduction by my father’s grace,

And means to reach the root of all your race.

We shall, not far out of our way to town,

A never-fell’d grove find, that poplars crown,

To Pallas sacred, where a fountain flows,

And round about the grove a meadow grows,

In which my father holds a manor house,

Deck’d all with orchards, green and odorous,

As far from town as one may hear a shout.

There stay, and rest your foot-pains, till full out

We reach the city; where, when you may guess

We are arriv’d, and enter our access

Within my father’s court, then put you on

For our Phaeacian state; where, to be shown

My father’s house, desire. Each infant there

Can bring you to it; and yourself will clear

Distinguish it from others, for no shows

The city buildings make compar’d with those

That king Alcinous’ seat doth celebrate.

In whose roofs, and the court (where men of state

And suitors sit and stay) when you shall hide,

Straight pass it, ent’ring further, where abide

My mother, with her withdrawn housewiferies,

Who still sits in the fire-shine, and applies

Her rock, all purple, and of pompous show,

Her chair plac’d ’gainst a pillar, all a-row

Her maids behind her set; and to her here

My father’s dining throne looks, seated where

He pours his choice of wine in, like a god.

This view once past, for th’ end of your abode,

Address suit to my mother, that her mean

May make the day of your redition seen,

And you may frolic straight, though far away

You are in distance from your wished stay.

For, if she once be won to wish you well,

Your hope may instantly your passport seal,

And thenceforth sure abide to see your friends,

Fair house, and all to which your heart contends.’

This said, she used her shining scourge, and lash’d

Her mules, that soon the shore left where she wash’d,

And, knowing well the way, their pace was fleet,

And thick they gather’d up their nimble feet.

Which yet she temper’d so, and used her scourge

With so much skill, as not to over-urge

The foot behind, and make them straggle so

From close society. Firm together go

Ulysses and her maids. And now the sun

Sunk to the waters, when they all had won

The never-fell’d and sound-exciting wood,

Sacred to Pallas; where the godlike good

Ulysses rested, and to Pallas pray’d:

‘Hear me, of goat-kept Jove th’ unconquer’d Maid!

Now throughly hear me, since in all the time

Of all my wrack, my prayers could never climb

Thy far-off ears, when noiseful Neptune toss’d

Upon his wat’ry bristles my emboss’d

And rock-torn body. Hear yet now, and deign

I may of the Phaeacian state obtain

Pity and grace.’ Thus pray’d he, and she heard,

By no means yet expos
’
d to sight appear’d

For fear t’ offend her uncle, the supreme

Of all the sea-gods, whose wrath still extreme

Stood to Ulysses, and would never cease

Till with his country shore he crown’d his peace.

The end of the sixth book

Book 7

The Argument

Nausicaa arrives at town,

And then Ulysses. He makes known

His suit to Arete, who view

Takes of his vesture, which she knew,

And asks him from whose hands it came.

He tells, with all the hapless frame

Of his affairs in all the while

Since he forsook Calypso’s isle.

Another Argument

Eta

The honour’d minds

And welcome things

Ulysses finds

In Scheria’s kings.

Book 7

T
hu
s
pr
a
y’
d the wise and god-observing man.

The maid, by free force of her palfreys, won

Access to town, and the renowned court

Reach’d of her father; where, within the port,

She stay’d her coach, and round about her came

Her brothers, made as of immortal frame,

Who yet disdain’d not, for her love, mean deeds,

But took from coach her mules, brought in her weeds.

And she ascends her chamber, where purvey’d

A quick fire was by her old chambermaid,

Eurymedusa, th’ Aperaean born,

And brought by sea from Apera t’ adorn

The court of great Alcinous, because

He gave to all the blest Phaeacians laws,

And, like a heav’n-born pow
’
r in speech, acquir’d

The people’s ears. To one then so admir’d,

Eurymedusa was esteem’d no worse

Than worth the gift; yet now, grown old, was nurse

To ivory-arm’d Nausicaa, gave heat

To all her fires, and dress’d her privy meat.

Then rose Ulysses, and made way to town;

Which ere he reach’d, a mighty mist was thrown

By Pallas round about him, in her care

Lest, in the sway of envies popular,

Some proud Phaeacian might foul language pass,

Justle him up, and ask him what he was.

Ent’ring the lovely town yet, through the cloud

Pallas appear’d, and like a young wench show’d

Bearing a pitcher, stood before him so

As if objected purposely to know

What there he needed; whom he question’d thus:

‘Know you not, daughter, where Alcinous,

That rules this town, dwells? I, a poor distress’d

Mere stranger here, know none I may request

To make this court known to me.’ She replied:

‘Strange father, I will see you satisfied

In that request. My father dwells just by

The house you seek for; but go silently,

Nor ask nor speak to any other; I

Shall be enough to show your way. The men

That here inhabit do not entertain

With ready kindness strangers, of what worth

Or state soever, nor have taken forth

Lessons of civil usage or respect

To men beyond them. They, upon their pow’rs

Of swift ships building, top the wat’ry tow’rs,

And Jove hath giv
’
n them ships, for sail so wrought

They cut a feather, and command a thought.’

This said, she usher’d him, and after he

Trod in the swift steps of the deity.

The free-sail’d seamen could not get a sight

Of our Ulysses yet, though he forthright

Both by their houses and their persons past,

Pallas about him such a darkness cast.

By her divine pow’r and her reverend care,

She would not give the town-born cause to stare.

He wonder’d, as he past, to see the ports;

The shipping in them; and for all resorts

The goodly market-steads; and aisles beside

For the heroës; walls so large and wide;

Rampires so high, and of such strength withal,

It would with wonder any eye appal.

At last they reach’d the court, and Pallas said:

‘Now, honour’d stranger, I will see obey’d

Your will, to show our ruler’s house: ’tis here,

Where you shall find kings celebrating cheer.

Enter amongst them, nor admit a fear.

More bold a man is, he prevails the more,

Though man nor place he ever saw before.

You first shall find the queen in court, whose name

Is Arete, of parents born the same

That was the king her spouse; their pedigree

I can report. The great Earth-shaker, he

Of Periboea (that her sex out-shone,

And youngest daughter was t’ Eurymedon,

Who of th’ unmeasur’d-minded giants sway’d

Th’ imperial sceptre, and the pride allay’d

Of men so impious with cold death, and died

Himself soon after) got the magnified

In mind Nausithous, who the kingdom’s state

First held in supreme rule. Nausithous gat

Rhexenor and Alcinous, now king.

Rhexenor (whose seed did no male fruit spring,

And whom the silver-bow-grac’d Phoebus slew

Young in the court) his shed blood did renew

In only Arete, who now is spouse

To him that rules the kingdom in this house,

And is her uncle king Alcinous,

Who honours her past equal. She may boast

More honour of him than the honour’d most

Of any wife in earth can of her lord,

How many more soever realms afford

That keep house under husbands. Yet no more

Her husband honours her, than her blest store

Of gracious children. All the city cast

Eyes on her as a goddess, and give taste

Of their affections to her in their pray’rs,

Still as she decks the streets; for all affairs

Wrapt in contention she dissolves to men.

Whom she affects, she wants no mind to deign

Goodness enough. If her heart stand inclin’d

To your dispatch, hope all you wish to find,

Your friends, your longing family, and all

That can within your most affections fall.’

This said, away the grey-eyed goddess flew

Along th’ untam’d sea, left the lovely hue

Scheria presented, out flew Marathon,

And ample-streeted Athens lighted on;

Where to the house, that casts so thick a shade,

Of Erectheus she ingression made.

Ulysses to the lofty-builded court

Of king Alcinous made bold resort;

Yet in his heart cast many a thought, before

The brazen pavement of the rich court bore

His enter’d person. Like heav’n’s two main lights,

The rooms illustrated both days and nights.

On every side stood firm a wall of brass,

Ev
’
n from the threshold to the inmost pass,

Which bore a roof up that all sapphire was.

The brazen thresholds both sides did enfold

Silver pilasters, hung with gates of gold

Whose portal was of silver; over which

A golden cornice did the front enrich.

On each side, dogs, of gold and silver fram’d,

The house’s guard stood; which the deity lam’d

With knowing inwards had inspired, and made

That death nor age should their estates invade.

Along the wall stood every way a throne,

From th’ entry to the lobby, every one

Cast over with a rich-wrought cloth of state;

Beneath which the Phaeacian princes sate

At wine and food, and feasted all the year.

Youths forg
’
d of gold at every table there

Stood holding flaming torches, that in night

Gave through the house each honour’d guest his light.

And, to encounter feast with housewif’ry,

In one room fifty women did apply

Their several tasks. Some apple-colour’d corn

Ground in fair querns, and some did spindles turn,

Some work in looms; no hand least rest receives,

But all had motion, apt as aspen leaves.

And from the weeds they wove, so fast they laid,

And so thick thrust together thread by thread,

That th’ oil, of which the wool had drunk his fill,

Did with his moisture in light dews distill.

As much as the Phaeacian men excell’d

All other countrymen in art to build

A swift-sail’d ship: so much the women there

For work of webs past other women were.

Past mean, by Pallas’ means, they understood

The grace of good works; and had wits as good.

Without the hall, and close upon the gate,

A goodly orchard-ground was situate,

Of near ten acres; about which was led

A lofty quickset. In it flourished

High and broad fruit trees, that pomegranates bore,

Sweet figs, pears, olives; and a number more

Most useful plants did there produce their store,

Whose fruits the hardest winter could not kill,

Nor hottest summer wither. There was still

Fruit in his proper season all the year.

Sweet Zephyr breath
’
d upon them blasts that were

Of varied tempers. These he made to bear

Ripe fruits, these blossoms. Pear grew after pear,

Apple succeeded apple, grape the grape,

Fig after fig came; time made never rape

Of any dainty there. A spritely vine

Spread here his root, whose fruit a hot sunshine

Made ripe betimes; here grew another green.

Here some were gathering, here some pressing seen.

A large-allotted several each fruit had;

And all th’ adorn’d grounds their appearance made

In flower and fruit, at which the king did aim

To the precisest order he could claim.

Two fountains grac’d the garden; of which, one

Pour’d out a winding stream that over-run

The grounds for their use chiefly, th’ other went

Close by the lofty palace gate, and lent

The city his sweet benefit. And thus

The gods the court deck’d of Alcinous.

Patient Ulysses stood a while at gaze,

But, having all observed, made instant pace

Into the court; where all the peers he found,

And captains of Phaeacia, with cups crown’d,

Offering to sharp-ey’d Hermes, to whom last

They us
’
d to sacrifice, when sleep had cast

His inclination through their thoughts. But these

Ulysses past, and forth went; nor their eyes

Took note of him, for Pallas stopp’d the light

With mists about him, that unstay’d he might

First to Alcinous and Arete,

Present his person; and, of both them, she

By Pallas’ counsel was to have the grace

Of foremost greeting. Therefore his embrace

He cast about her knee. And then off flew

The heav’nly air that hid him; when his view

With silence and with admiration strook

The court quite through; but thus he silence broke:

‘Divine Rhexenor’s offspring, Arete,

To thy most honour’d husband and to thee

A man whom many labours have distress’d

Is come for comfort, and to every guest –

To all whom heav’n vouchsafe delightsome lives,

And after to your issue that survives

A good resignment of the goods ye leave,

With all the honour that yourselves receive

Amongst your people. Only this of me

Is the ambition, that I may but see

(By your vouchsa
f
’
d means, and betimes vouchsa
f
’
d)

My country earth, since I have long been left

To labours and to errors barr’d from end,

And far from benefit of any friend.’

He said no more, but left them dumb with that,

Went to the hearth, and in the ashes sat,

Aside the fire. At last their silence brake,

And Echinëus, th’ old heroë, spake –

A man that all Phaeacians pass’d in years,

And in persuasive eloquence all the peers,

Knew much, and us’d it well; and thus spake he:

‘Alcinous! It shews not decently,

Nor doth your honour what you see admit,

That this your guest should thus abjectly sit,

His chair the earth, the hearth his cushion,

Ashes as if appos
’
d for food. A throne,

Adorn’d with due rites, stands you more in hand

To see his person plac’d in, and command

That instantly your heralds fill in wine,

That to the god that doth in lightnings shine

We may do sacrifice; for he is there,

Where these his reverend suppliants appear.

Let what you have within be brought abroad,

To sup the stranger. All these would have show’d

This fit respect to him, but that they stay

For your precedence, that should grace the way.’

When this had added to the well-inclin’d

And sacred order of Alcinous’ mind,

Then of the great-in-wit the hand he seiz’d,

And from the ashes his fair person rais’d,

Advanc’d him to a well-adorned throne,

And from his seat rais’d his most loved son,

Laodamas, that next himself was set,

To give him place. The handmaid then did get

An ewer of gold, with water fill’d, which plac’d

Upon a cauldron, all with silver grac’d,

She pour’d out on their hands. And then was spread

A table, which the butler set with bread,

As others serv
’
d with other food the board,

In all the choice the present could afford.

Ulysses meat and wine took; and then thus

The king the herald call’d: ‘Pontonous!

Serve wine through all the house, that all may pay

Rites to the Lightner, who is still in way

With humble suppliants, and them pursues

With all benign and hospitable dues.’

Pontonous gave act to all he will’d,

And honey-sweetness-giving-minds wine fill’d,

Disposing it in cups for all to drink.

All having drunk what either’s heart could think

Fit for due sacrifice, Alcinous said:

‘Hear me, ye dukes that the Phaeacians lead,

And you our counsellors, that I may now

Discharge the charge my mind suggests to you,

For this our guest: feast past, and this night’s sleep,

Next morn, our senate summon’d, we will keep

Justs, sacred to the gods, and this our guest

Receive in solemn court with fitting feast;

Then think of his return, that, under hand

Of our deduction, his natural land

(Without more toil or care, and with delight,

And that soon giv’n him, how far hence dissite

Soever it can be) he may ascend;

And in the mean time without wrong attend,