Odyssey

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The Gods in council sit, to call

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Ulysses from Calypso’s thrall,

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And order their high pleasures thus:

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Grey Pallas to Telemachus

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(In Ithaca) her way addrest;

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And did her heav’nly limbs invest

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In Mentas’ likeness, that did reign

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King of the Taphians, in the main

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Whose rough waves near Leucadia run.

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Advising wise Ulysses’ son

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To seek his father, and address

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His course to young Tantalides,

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That govern’d Sparta. Thus much said,

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She shew’d she was Heav’n’s martial Maid,

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And vanish’d from him. Next to this,

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The Banquet of the Wooers is.

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ANOTHER ARGUMENT

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_Ἂλφα._

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The Deities sit;

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The Man retired;

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Th’ Ulyssean wit

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By Pallas fired.

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The man, O Muse, inform, that many a way[1]

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Wound with his wisdom to his wished stay;

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That wander’d wondrous far, when he the town

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Of sacred Troy had sack’d and shiver’d down;

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The cities of a world of nations,

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With all their manners, minds, and fashions,

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He saw and knew; at sea felt many woes,

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Much care sustain’d, to save from overthrows

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Himself and friends in their retreat for home;

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But so their fates he could not overcome,

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Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,

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They perish’d by their own impieties!

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That in their hunger’s rapine would not shun

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The oxen of the lofty-going Sun,

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Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft

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Of safe return. These acts, in some part left,

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Tell us, as others, deified Seed of Jove.

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Now all the rest that austere death outstrove

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At Troy’s long siege at home safe anchor’d are,

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Free from the malice both of sea and war;

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Only Ulysses is denied access

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To wife and home. The grace of Goddesses,

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The rev’rend nymph Calypso, did detain

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Him in her caves, past all the race of men

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Enflam’d to make him her lov’d lord and spouse.

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And when the Gods had destin’d that his house,

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Which Ithaca on her rough bosom bears,

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(The point of time wrought out by ambient years)

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Should be his haven, Contention still extends

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Her envy to him, ev’n amongst his friends.

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All Gods took pity on him; only he,

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That girds earth in the cincture of the sea,

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Divine Ulysses ever did envy,

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And made the fix’d port of his birth to fly.

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But he himself solemniz’d a retreat

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To th’ Æthiops, far dissunder’d in their seat,

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(In two parts parted, at the sun’s descent,

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And underneath his golden orient,

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The first and last of men) t’ enjoy their feast

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Of bulls and lambs, in hecatombs addrest;[2]

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At which he sat, giv’n over to delight.

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The other Gods in heav’n’s supremest height

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Were all in council met; to whom began

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The mighty Father both of God and man

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Discourse, inducing matter that inclin’d

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To wise Ulysses, calling to his mind

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Faultful Ægisthus, who to death was done[3]

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By young Orestes, Agamemnon’s son.

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His memory to the Immortals then

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Mov’d Jove thus deeply: “O how falsely men

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Accuse us Gods as authors of their ill!

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When, by the bane their own bad lives instill,

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They suffer all the mis’ries of their states,

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Past our inflictions, and beyond their fates.

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As now Ægisthus, past his fate, did wed

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The wife of Agamemnon, and (in dread

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To suffer death himself) to shun his ill,

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Incurr’d it by the loose bent of his will,

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In slaughtering Atrides in retreat.

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Which we foretold him would so hardly set

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To his murd’rous purpose, sending Mercury

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That slaughter’d Argus, our consid’rate spy,

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To give him this charge: ‘Do not wed his wife,

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Nor murder him; for thou shalt buy his life

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With ransom of thine own, impos’d on thee

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By his Orestes, when in him shall be

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Atrides’-self renew’d, and but the prime

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Of youth’s spring put abroad, in thirst to climb

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His haughty father’s throne by his high acts.’

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These words of Hermes wrought not into facts

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Ægisthus’ powers; good counsel he despis’d,

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And to that good his ill is sacrific’d.”

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Pallas, whose eyes did sparkle like the skies,

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Answer’d: “O Sire! Supreme of Deities,

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Ægisthus pass’d his fate, and had desert

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To warrant our infliction; and convert

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May all the pains such impious men inflict

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On innocent suff’rers to revenge as strict,

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Their own hearts eating. But, that Ithacus,

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Thus never meriting, should suffer thus,

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I deeply suffer. His more pious mind

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Divides him from these fortunes. Though unkind

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Is piety to him, giving him a fate

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More suff’ring than the most unfortunate,

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So long kept friendless in a sea-girt soil,

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Where the sea’s navel is a sylvan isle,

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In which the Goddess dwells that doth derive

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Her birth from Atlas, who of all alive

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The motion and the fashion doth command

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With his wise mind, whose forces understand[4]

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The inmost deeps and gulfs of all the seas,

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Who (for his skill of things superior) stays

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The two steep columns that prop earth and heav’n.

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His daughter ‘tis, who holds this homeless-driv’n[5]

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Still mourning with her; evermore profuse

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Of soft and winning speeches, that abuse

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And make so languishingly, and possest[6]

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With so remiss a mind her loved guest,

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Manage the action of his way for home.

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Where he, though in affection overcome,

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In judgment yet more longs to show his hopes

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His country’s smoke leap from her chimney tops,

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And death asks in her arms. Yet never shall

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Thy lov’d heart be converted on his thrall,

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Austere Olympius. Did not ever he,

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In ample Troy, thy altars gratify,

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And Grecians’ fleet make in thy off’rings swim?

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Jove, why still then burns thy wrath to him?”

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The Cloud-assembler answer’d: “What words fly,

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Bold daughter, from thy pale of ivory?[7]

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As if I ever could cast from my care

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Divine Ulysses, who exceeds so far

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All men in wisdom, and so oft hath giv’n

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To all th’ Immortals thron’d in ample heav’n

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So great and sacred gifts? But his decrees,

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That holds the earth in with his nimble knees,

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Stand to Ulysses’ longings so extreme,

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For taking from the God-foe Polypheme

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His only eye; a Cyclop, that excell’d

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All other Cyclops, with whose burden swell’d

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The nymph Thoosa, the divine increase

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Of Phorcys’ seed, a great God of the seas.

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She mix’d with Neptune in his hollow caves,

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And bore this Cyclop to that God of waves.

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For whose lost eye, th’ Earth-shaker did not kill

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Erring Ulysses, but reserves him still

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In life for more death. But use we our pow’rs,

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And round about us cast these cares of ours,

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All to discover how we may prefer

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His wish’d retreat, and Neptune make forbear

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His stern eye to him, since no one God can,

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In spite of all, prevail, but ’gainst a man.”

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To this, this answer made the grey-eyed Maid:

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“Supreme of rulers, since so well apaid

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The blesséd Gods are all then, now, in thee,

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To limit wise Ulysses’ misery,

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And that you speak as you referr’d to me

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Prescription for the means, in this sort be

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Their sacred order: Let us now address

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With utmost speed our swift Argicides,

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To tell the nymph that bears the golden tress

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In th’ isle Ogygia, that ’tis our will

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She should not stay our lov’d Ulysses still,

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But suffer his return; and then will I

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To Ithaca, to make his son apply

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His sire’s inquest the more; infusing force

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Into his soul, to summon the concourse

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Of curl’d-head Greeks to council, and deter

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Each wooer, that hath been the slaughterer

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Of his fat sheep and crooked-headed beeves.

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From more wrong to his mother, and their leaves

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Take in such terms as fit deserts so great.

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To Sparta then, and Pylos, where doth beat

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Bright Amathus, the flood, and epithet

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To all that kingdom, my advice shall send

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The spirit-advanc’d Prince, to the pious end

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Of seeking his lost father, if he may

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Receive report from Fame where rests his stay;

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And make, besides, his own successive worth

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Known to the world, and set in action forth.”

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This said, her wing’d shoes to her feet she tied,

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Form’d all of gold, and all eternified,

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That on the round earth or the sea sustain’d

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Her ravish’d substance swift as gusts of wind.

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Then took she her strong lance with steel made keen,

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Great, massy, active, that whole hosts of men,

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Though all heroës, conquers, if her ire

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Their wrongs inflame, back’d by so great a Sire.

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Down from Olympus’ tops she headlong div’d,

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And swift as thought in Ithaca arriv’d,

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Close at Ulysses’ gates; in whose first court

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She made her stand, and, for her breast’s support,

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Lean’d on her iron lance; her form imprest

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With Mentas’ likeness, come as being a guest.

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There found she those proud wooers, that were then

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Set on those ox-hides that themselves had slain,

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Before the gates, and all at dice were playing.

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To them the heralds, and the rest obeying,

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Fill’d wine and water; some, still as they play’d,

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And some, for solemn supper’s state, purvey’d,

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With porous sponges cleansing tables, serv’d

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With much rich feast; of which to all they kerv’d.

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God-like Telemachus amongst them sat,

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Griev’d much in mind; and in his heart begat

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All representment of his absent sire,

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How, come from far-off parts, his spirits would fire

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With those proud wooers’ sight, with slaughter parting

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Their bold concourse, and to himself converting

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The honours they usurp’d, his own commanding.

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In this discourse, he first saw Pallas standing,

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Unbidden entry; up rose, and addrest

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His pace right to her, angry that a guest

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Should stand so long at gate; and, coming near,

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Her right hand took, took in his own her spear,

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And thus saluted: “Grace to your repair,

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Fair guest, your welcome shall be likewise fair.

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Enter, and, cheer’d with feast, disclose th’ intent

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That caus’d your coming.” This said, first he went,

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And Pallas follow’d. To a room they came,

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Steep, and of state; the jav’lin of the Dame

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He set against a pillar vast and high,

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Amidst a large and bright-kept armory,

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Which was, besides, with woods of lances grac’d

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Of his grave father’s. In a throne he plac’d

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The man-turn’d Goddess, under which was spread

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A carpet, rich and of deviceful thread;

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A footstool staying her feet; and by her chair

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Another seat (all garnish’d wondrous fair,

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To rest or sleep on in the day) he set,

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Far from the prease of wooers, lest at meat

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The noise they still made might offend his guest,

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Disturbing him at banquet or at rest,

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Ev’n to his combat with that pride of theirs,

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That kept no noble form in their affairs.

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And these he set far from them, much the rather

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To question freely of his absent father.

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A table fairly-polish’d then was spread,

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On which a rev’rend officer set bread,

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And other servitors all sorts of meat

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(Salads, and flesh, such as their haste could get)

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Serv’d with observance in. And then the sewer

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Pour’d water from a great and golden ewer,

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That from their hands t’ a silver caldron ran.

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Both wash’d, and seated close, the voiceful man

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Fetch’d cups of gold, and set by them, and round

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Those cups with wine with all endeavour crown’d.

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Then rush’d in the rude wooers, themselves plac’d;

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The heralds water gave; the maids in haste

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Serv’d bread from baskets. When, of all prepar’d

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And set before them, the bold wooers shar’d,

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Their pages plying their cups past the rest.

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But lusty wooers must do more than feast;

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For now, their hungers and their thirsts allay’d,

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They call’d for songs and dances; those, they said,

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Were th’ ornaments of feast. The herald straight

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A harp, carv’d full of artificial sleight,

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Thrust into Phemius’, a learn’d singer’s, hand,

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Who, till he much was urg’d, on terms did stand,

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But, after, play’d and sung with all his art.

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Telemachus to Pallas then (apart,

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His ear inclining close, that none might hear)

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In this sort said: “My guest, exceeding dear,

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Will you not sit incens’d with what I say?

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These are the cares these men take; feast and play.

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Which eas’ly they may use, because they eat,

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Free and unpunish’d, of another’s meat;

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And of a man’s, whose white bones wasting lie

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In some far region; with th’ incessancy

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Of show’rs pour’d down upon them, lying ashore,

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Or in the seas wash’d nak’d. Who, if he wore

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Those bones with flesh and life and industry,

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And these might here in Ithaca set eye

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On him return’d, they all would wish to be

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Either past other in celerity

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Of feet and knees, and not contend t’ exceed

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In golden garments. But his virtues feed

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The fate of ill death; nor is left to me

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The least hope of his life’s recovery,

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No, not if any of the mortal race

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Should tell me his return; the cheerful face

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Of his return’d day never will appear.

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But tell me, and let Truth your witness bear,

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Who, and from whence you are? What city’s birth?

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What parents? In what vessel set you forth?

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And with what mariners arriv’d you here?

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I cannot think you a foot passenger.

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Recount then to me all, to teach me well

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Fit usage for your worth. And if it fell

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In chance now first that you thus see us here,

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Or that in former passages you were

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My father’s guest? For many men have been

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Guests to my father. Studious of men

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His sociable nature ever was.”

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On him again the grey-eyed Maid did pass

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This kind reply: “I’ll answer passing true

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All thou hast ask’d: My birth his honour drew

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From wise Anchialus. The name I bear

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Is Mentas, the commanding islander

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Of all the Taphians studious in the art

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Of navigation; having touch’d this part

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With ship and men, of purpose to maintain

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

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And Temesis sustains the city’s name

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For which my ship is bound, made known by fame

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For rich in brass, which my occasions need,

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And therefore bring I shining steel in stead,

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

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

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Apart this city, in the harbour call’d

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

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Thy sire and I were ever mutual guests,

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At either’s house still interchanging feasts.

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I glory in it. Ask, when thou shalt see

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Laertes, th’ old heroë, these of me,

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From the beginning. He, men say, no more

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Visits the city, but will needs deplore

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His son’s believ’d loss in a private field;

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One old maid only at his hands to yield

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Food to his life, as oft as labour makes

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

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Along a fruitful plain, set all with vines,

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

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

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I hear he wanders, while these wooers feast.

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

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

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

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At all times what shall after chance to men)

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

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The Gods’ inflictions keep your sire from you.

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Divine Ulysses, yet, abides not dead

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Above earth, nor beneath, nor buried

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In any seas, as you did late conceive,

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But, with the broad sea sieg’d, is kept alive

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Within an isle by rude and upland men,

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That in his spite his passage home detain.

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Yet long it shall not be before he tread

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His country’s dear earth, though solicited,

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And held from his return, with iron chains;

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For he hath wit to forge a world of trains,

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

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For his return, so much relied upon.

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But tell me, and be true: Art thou indeed

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So much a son, as to be said the seed[8]

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Of Ithacus himself? Exceeding much

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Thy forehead and fair eyes at his form touch;

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For oftentimes we met, as you and I

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Meet at this hour, before he did apply

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His pow’rs for Troy, when other Grecian states

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In hollow ships were his associates.

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But, since that time, mine eyes could never see

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

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The wise Telemachus again replied:

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“You shall with all I know be satisfied.

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My mother certain says I am his son;

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I know not; nor was ever simply known

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By any child the sure truth of his sire.

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But would my veins had took in living fire

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From some man happy, rather than one wise,

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Whom age might see seis’d of what youth made prise.

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But he whoever of the mortal race

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

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

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“The Gods sure did not make the future strain

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Both of thy race and days obscure to thee,

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Since thou wert born so of Penelope.

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The style may by thy after acts be won,

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Of so great sire the high undoubted son.

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

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What all this rout? Is all this nuptial cheer?

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Or else some friendly banquet made by thee?

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For here no shots are, where all sharers be.

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Past measure contumeliously this crew

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Fare through thy house; which should th’ ingenuous view

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Of any good or wise man come and find,

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(Impiety seeing play’d in ev’ry kind)

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

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Again Telemachus: “My guest much lov’d.

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Since you demand and sift these sights so far,

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I grant ’twere fit a house so regular,

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Rich, and so faultless once in government,

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Should still at all parts the same form present

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That gave it glory while her lord was here.

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But now the Gods, that us displeasure bear,

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Have otherwise appointed, and disgrace

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My father most of all the mortal race.

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For whom I could not mourn so were he dead,

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Amongst his fellow-captains slaughteréd

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By common enemies, or in the hands

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Of his kind friends had ended his commands,

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After he had egregiously bestow’d

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His pow’r and order in a war so vow’d,

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And to his tomb all Greeks their grace had done,

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That to all ages he might leave his son

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Immortal honour; but now Harpies have

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Digg’d in their gorges his abhorréd grave.

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Obscure, inglorious, death hath made his end,

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And me, for glories, to all griefs contend.

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Nor shall I any more mourn him alone,

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

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For look how many optimates remain

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In Samos, or the shores Dulichian,

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Shady Zacynthus, or how many bear

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Rule in the rough brows of this island here;

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So many now my mother and this house

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At all parts make defam’d and ruinous;

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And she her hateful nuptials nor denies,

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Nor will despatch their importunities,

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Though she beholds them spoil still as they feast

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All my free house yields, and the little rest

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Of my dead sire in me perhaps intend

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To bring ere long to some untimely end.”

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

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“Absent Ulysses is much miss’d by thee,

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That on these shameless suitors he might lay

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His wreakful hands. Should he now come, and stay

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

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And two such darts as I have seen him wield,

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When first I saw him in our Taphian court,

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Feasting, and doing his desert’s disport;

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When from Ephyrus he return’d by us

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From Ilus, son to Centaur Mermerus,

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To whom he travell’d through the wat’ry dreads,

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For bane to poison his sharp arrows’ heads,

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

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Because he fear’d the Gods that ever live

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Would plague such death with death; and yet their fear

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Was to my father’s bosom not so dear

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

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My loving father found him to a thought.)

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If such as then Ulysses might but meet

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With these proud wooers, all were at his feet

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But instant dead men, and their nuptialls

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Would prove as bitter as their dying galls.

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But these things in the Gods’ knees are repos’d,

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If his return shall see with wreak inclos’d,

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These in his house, or he return no more;

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And therefore I advise thee to explore

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All ways thyself, to set these wooers gone;

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To which end give me fit attentión:

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To-morrow into solemn council call

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The Greek heroës, and declare to all

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(The Gods being witness) what thy pleasure is.

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Command to towns of their nativity

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These frontless wooers. If thy mother’s mind

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Stands to her second nuptials so inclin’d,

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

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

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Make rich, and such as may consort with grace

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So dear a daughter of so great a race

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And thee I warn as well (if thou as well

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

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

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Where the abode is of thy absent sire,

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If any can inform thee, or thine ear

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From Jove the fame of his retreat may hear,

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For chiefly Jove gives all that honours men.

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To Pylos first be thy addression then,

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To god-like Nestor; thence to Sparta haste,

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To gold-lock’d Menelaus, who was last

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

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And try from both these, if thou canst enjoy

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

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

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

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And to his memory erect a tomb,

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Performing parent-rites, of feast and game,

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Pompous, and such as best may fit his fame;

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And then thy mother a fit husband give.

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These past, consider how thou mayst deprive

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Of worthless life these wooers in thy house,

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By open force, or projects enginous.

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

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Hast thou not heard, how all men did adore

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Divine Orestes, after he had slain

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Ægisthus murd’ring by a treach’rous train

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

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Valiant and manly, ev’ry way approv’d

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As great as he. I see thy person fit,

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Noble thy mind, and excellent thy wit,

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All giv’n thee so to use and manage here

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That ev’n past death they may their memories bear.

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In meantime I’ll descend to ship and men,

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That much expect me. Be observant then

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Of my advice, and careful to maintain

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In equal acts thy royal father’s reign.”

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Telemachus replied: “You ope, fair guest,

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A friend’s heart in your speech, as well exprest

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As might a father serve t’ inform his son;

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All which sure place have in my memory won.

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Abide yet, though your voyage calls away,

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That, having bath’d, and dignified your stay

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With some more honour, you may yet beside

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Delight your mind by being gratified

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With some rich present taken in your way,

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That, as a jewel, your respect may lay

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Up in your treasury, bestow’d by me,

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As free friends use to guests of such degree.”

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“Detain me not,” said she, “so much inclin’d

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To haste my voyage. What thy loved mind

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Commands to give, at my return this way,

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Bestow on me, that I directly may

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Convey it home; which more of price to me

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The more it asks my recompense to thee.”

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This said, away grey-eyed Minerva flew,

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Like to a mounting lark; and did endue

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His mind with strength and boldness, and much more

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Made him his father long for than before;

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And weighing better who his guest might be,

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He stood amaz’d, and thought a Deity

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Was there descended; to whose will he fram’d

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His pow’rs at all parts, and went so inflam’d

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Amongst the wooers, who were silent set,

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To hear a poet sing the sad retreat

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

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Proclaim’d by Pallas, pain of her offence.

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When which divine song was perceiv’d to bear

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That mournful subject by the list’ning ear

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Of wise Penelope, Icarius’ seed,

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Who from an upper room had giv’n it heed,

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Down she descended by a winding stair,

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Not solely, but the state in her repair

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Two maids of honour made. And when this queen

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

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By all her wooers. In the door, aloof,

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Ent’ring the hall grac’d with a goodly roof,

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She stood, in shade of graceful veils, implied

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About her beauties; on her either side,

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

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She chid the sacred singer: “Phemiüs,

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You know a number more of these great deeds

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Of Gods and men, that are the sacred seeds,

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And proper subjects, of a poet’s song,

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And those due pleasures that to men belong,

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Besides these facts that furnish Troy’s retreat,

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Sing one of those to these, that round your seat

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They may with silence sit, and taste their wine;

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But cease this song, that through these ears of mine

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Conveys deserv’d occasion to my heart

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Of endless sorrows, of which the desert

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In me unmeasur’d is past all these men,

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So endless is the memory I retain,

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And so desertful is that memory,

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Of such a man as hath a dignity

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So broad it spreads itself through all the pride

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Of Greece and Argos.” To the queen replied

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Inspir’d Telemachus: “Why thus envies

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My mother him that fits societies[9]

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With so much harmony, to let him please

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His own mind in his will to honour these?

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For these ingenious and first sort of men,[10]

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That do immediately from Jove retain

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Their singing raptures, are by Jove as well

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Inspir’d with choice of what their songs impell,

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

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Nor is this man to blame, that the repairs

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The Greeks make homeward sings; for his fresh muse

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Men still most celebrate that sings most news.

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And therefore in his note your ears employ:

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For not Ulysses only lost in Troy

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The day of his return, but numbers more

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The deadly ruins of his fortunes bore.

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

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Your web, and distaff; and your maids command

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

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And those reproving counsels you pursue,

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And most to me of all men, since I bear

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

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She went amaz’d away, and in her heart

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Laid up the wisdom Pallas did impart

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

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Up to her chamber, and no more would reign

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In manly counsels. To her women she

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Applied her sway; and to the wooers he

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Began new orders, other spirits bewray’d

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

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

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Till grey Minerva did those tears surprise

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With timely sleep, and that her wooers did rouse

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Rude tumult up through all the shady house,

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Dispos’d to sleep because their widow was)

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Telemachus this new-giv’n spirit did pass

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On their old insolence: “Ho! you that are,

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My mother’s wooers! much too high ye bear

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Your petulant spirits; sit; and, while ye may

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Enjoy me in your banquets, see ye lay

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These loud notes down, nor do this man the wrong,

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Because my mother hath disliked his song,

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To grace her interruption. ’Tis a thing

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Honest, and honour’d too, to hear one sing

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Numbers so like the Gods in elegance,

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As this man flows in. By the morn’s first light,[11]

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I’ll call ye all before me in a Court,

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That I may clearly banish your resort,

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With all your rudeness, from these roofs of mine.

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Away; and elsewhere in your feasts combine.

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Consume your own goods, and make mutual feast

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At either’s house. Or if ye still hold best,

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And for your humours’ more sufficéd fill,

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To feed, to spoil, because unpunish’d still,

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On other findings, spoil; but here I call

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Th’ Eternal Gods to witness, if it fall

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In my wish’d reach once to be dealing wreaks,

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By Jove’s high bounty, these your present checks

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To what I give in charge shall add more reins

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To my revenge hereafter; and the pains

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Ye then must suffer shall pass all your pride

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Ever to see redress’d, or qualified.”

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At this all bit their lips, and did admire

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His words sent from him with such phrase and fire;

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Which so much mov’d them that Antinous,

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Eupitheus’ son, cried out: “Telemachus!

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The Gods, I think, have rapt thee to this height

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Of elocution, and this great conceit

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Of self-ability. We all may pray,

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That Jove invest not in this kingdom’s sway

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Thy forward forces, which I see put forth

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A hot ambition in thee for thy birth.”

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“Be not offended,” he replied, “if I[12]

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Shall say, I would assume this empery,

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If Jove gave leave. You are not he that sings:

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_The rule of kingdoms is the worst of things._

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Nor is it ill, at all, to sway a throne;

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A man may quickly gain possession

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Of mighty riches, make a wondrous prize

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Set of his virtues; but the dignities

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That deck a king, there are enough beside

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In this circumfluous isle that want no pride

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To think them worthy of, as young as I,

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And old as you are. An ascent so high

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My thoughts affect not. Dead is he that held

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Desert of virtue to have so excell’d.

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But of these turrets I will take on me

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To be the absolute king, and reign as free,

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As did my father, over all his hand

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Left here in this house slaves to my command.”

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Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,

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To this made this reply: “Telemachus!

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The girlond of this kingdom let the knees

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Of Deity run for; but the faculties

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This house is seis’d of, and the turrets here,

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Thou shalt be lord of, nor shall any bear

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The least part off of all thou dost possess,

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As long as this land is no wilderness.

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Nor rul’d by out-laws. But give these their pass,

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And tell me, best of princes, who he was

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That guested here so late? From whence? And what

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In any region boasted he his state?

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His race? His country? Brought he any news

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Of thy returning father? Or for dues

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Of moneys to him made he fit repair?

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How suddenly he rush’d into the air,

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Nor would sustain to stay and make him known!

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His port show’d no debauch’d companion.”

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He answer’d: “The return of my lov’d sire

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Is past all hope; and should rude Fame inspire

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From any place a flatt’ring messenger

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With news of his survival, he should bear

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No least belief off from my desp’rate love.

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Which if a sacred prophet should approve,

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Call’d by my mother for her care’s unrest,

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It should not move me. For my late fair guest,

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He was of old my father’s, touching here

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From sea-girt Taphos; and for name doth bear

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Mentas, the son of wise Anchialus;

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And governs all the Taphians studious

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Of navigation.” This he said, but knew

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It was a Goddess. These again withdrew

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To dances and attraction of the song;

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And while their pleasures did the time prolong,

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The sable Even descended, and did steep

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The lids of all men in desire of sleep.

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Telemachus, into a room built high,

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Of his illustrious court, and to the eye

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Of circular prospect, to his bed ascended,

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And in his mind much weighty thought contended

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Before him Euryclea (that well knew

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All the observance of a handmaid’s due,

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Daughter to Opis Pisenorides)

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Bore two bright torches; who did so much please

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Laërtes in her prime, that, for the price

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Of twenty oxen, he made merchandise

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Of her rare beauties; and love’s equal flame,

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To her he felt, as to his nuptial dame,

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Yet never durst he mix with her in bed,

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So much the anger of his wife he fled.

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She, now grown old, to young Telemachus

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Two torches bore, and was obsequious

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Past all his other maids, and did apply

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Her service to him from his infancy.

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His well-built chamber reach’d, she op’d the door,

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He on his bed sat, the soft weeds he wore

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Put off, and to the diligent old maid

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Gave all; who fitly all in thick folds laid,

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And hung them on a beam-pin near the bed,

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That round about was rich embroidered.

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Then made she haste forth from him, and did bring

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The door together with a silver ring,

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And by a string a bar to it did pull.

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He, laid, and cover’d well with curled wool

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Wov’n in silk quilts, all night employ’d his mind

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About the task that Pallas had design’d.

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FINIS LIBRI PRIMI HOM. ODYSS.

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fatal) passage through many afflictions (according with the most

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Sacred Letter) to his natural haven and country, is the whole argument

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and scope of this inimitable and miraculous poem. And therefore is the

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epithet _πολὐτροπον_ given him in the first verse: _πολὐτροπος_

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signifying, _Homo cujus ingenium velut per multas et varias vias

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vertitur in verum._

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contain differ from all other translations) lest I be thought to err

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out of that ignorance that may perhaps possess my depraver.

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epithet of Ægisthus, is from the true sense of the word, as it is here

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to be understood; which is quite contrary. As _ὰντίθεος_ is to be

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expounded in some place _Divinus,_ or _Deo similis,_ but in another

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(soon after) _contrarius Deo._ The person to whom the epithet is given

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giving reason to distinguish it. And so _ὀλοὁφρων,_ an epithet given

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to Atlas, instantly following, in one place signifies _mente

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perniciosus,_ in the next, _qui universa mente gerit._

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signifies _qui universa mente agitat,_ here given him for the power

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the stars have in all things. Yet this receives other interpretation

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in other places, as abovesaid.

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collection; when it hath here a particular exposition, applied to

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express Ulysses’ desert errors, _‘παρἁ τὁ στἣναι, ut sit, qui vix

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locum invenire potest ubi consistat._

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allegory driven through the whole Odysseys. Deciphering the intangling

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of the wisest in his affections; and the torments that breed in every

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pious mind; to be thereby hindered to arrive so directly as he

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desires, at the proper and only true natural country of every worthy

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man, whose haven is heaven and the next life, to which, this life is

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but a sea in continual æsture and vexation. The words occasioning all

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this are _μαλακοἳς λὀλοις: μαλακὀς_ signifying, _qui languide, et

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animo remisso rem aliquam gerit;_ which being the effect of Calypso’s

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sweet words in Ulysses, is here applied passively to his own

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sufferance of their operation.

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the better sound in our language, is here turned, Pale of Ivory. The

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teeth being that rampire, or pale, given us by nature in that part for

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restraint and compression of our speech, till the imagination,

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appetite, and soul (that ought to rule in their examination, before

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their delivery) have given worthy pass to them. The most grave and

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divine poet, teaching therein, that not so much for the necessary

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chewing of our sustenance our teeth are given us, as for their stay of

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our words, lest we utter them rashly.

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stir up the son the more to the father’s worthiness.

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for their first finding out of arts and documents tending to elocution

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and government inspired only by Jove, and are here called the first of

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men, since first they gave rules to manly life, and have their

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information immediately from Jove (as Plato in Ione witnesseth); the

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word deduced from _ἅλφα,_ which is taken for him _qui primas teneat

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aliquâ in re,_ and will _ἀλφηστῃσιν_ then be sufficiently expressed

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with _ingeniosis,_ than which no exposition goes further.

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change and is so far let down from his late height of heat, altering

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and tempering so commandingly his affections I thought not amiss to

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insert here Spondanus’ further annotations, which is this: _Prudenter

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Telemachus joco furorem Antinoi ac asperitatem emolliit. Nam ita

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dictum illius interpretatur, ut existimetur censere jocosè ilia etiam

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ab Antinoo adversum se pronunciata. Et primum ironicè se Regem esse

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exoptat propter commoda quæ Reges solent comitari. Ne tamen invidiam

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in se ambitionis concitet, testatur se regnum, Ithacæ non ambire,

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mortuo Ulysse, cum id alii possidere queant se longe præstantiores ac

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digniores: hoc unum ait se moliri, ut propriarum ædium et bonorum

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solus sit dominus, iis exclusis, ac ejectis, qui vi illa occupare ac

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disperdere conantur._