Odyssey

In Lacedæmon now, the nurse of whales,

These two arriv'd, and found at festivals,

With mighty concourse, the renownéd king,

His son and daughter jointly marrying.

Alector's daughter he did give his son,

Strong Megapenthes, who his life begun

By Menelaus' bondmaid; whom he knew

In years when Helen could no more renew

In issue like divine Hermione,

Who held in all fair form as high degree

As golden Venus. Her he married now

To great Achilles' son, who was by vow

Betroth'd to her at Troy, And thus the Gods

To constant loves give nuptial periods.

Whose state here past, the Myrmidons' rich town

(Of which she shar'd in the imperial crown)

With horse and chariots he resign'd her to.

Mean space, the high huge house with feast did flow

Of friends and neighbours, joying with the king.

Amongst whom did a heav'nly poet sing,

And touch his harp. Amongst whom likewise danc'd

Two, who in that dumb motion advanc'd,

Would prompt the singer what to sing and play.

All this time in the utter court did stay,

With horse and chariot, Telemachus,

And Nestor's noble son Pisistratus.

Whom Eteoneus, coming forth, descried,

And, being a servant to the king, most tried

In care and his respect, he ran and cried:

"Guests, Jove-kept Menelaus, two such men

As are for form of high Saturnius' strain.

Inform your pleasure, if we shall unclose

Their horse from coach, or say they must dispose

Their way to some such house, as may embrace

Their known arrival with more welcome grace?"

He, angry, answer'd: "Thou didst never show

Thyself a fool, Boethides, till now;

But now, as if turn'd child, a childish speech

Vents thy vain spirits. We ourselves now reach

Our home by much spent hospitality

Of other men; nor know if Jove will try

With other after-wants our state again;

And therefore from our feast no more detain

Those welcome guests, but take their steeds from coach,

And with attendance guide in their approach."

This said, he rush'd abroad, and call'd some more

Tried in such service, that together bore

Up to the guests, and took their steeds that swet

Beneath their yokes from coach; at mangers set,

Wheat and white barley gave them mix'd; and plac'd

Their chariot by a wall so clear, it cast

A light quite through it. And then they led

Their guests to the divine house; which so fed

Their eyes at all parts with illustrious sights,

That admiration seiz'd them. Like the lights

The sun and moon gave, all the palace threw

A lustre through it. Satiate with whose view,

Down to the king's most bright-kept baths they went,

Where handmaids did their services present,

Bath'd, balm'd them, shirts and well-napt weeds put on,

And by Atrides' side set each his throne.

Then did the handmaid-royal water bring,

And to a laver, rich and glittering,

Of massy gold, pour'd; which she plac'd upon

A silver caldron, into which might run

The water as they wash'd. Then set she near

A polish'd table, on which all the cheer

The present could afford a rev'rend dame,

That kept the larder, set. A cook then came,

And divers dishes, borne thence, serv'd again;

Furnish'd the board with bowls of gold. And then,

His right hand giv'n the guests, Atrides said:

"Eat, and be cheerful. Appetite allay'd,

I long to ask, of what stock ye descend;

For not from parents whose race nameless end

We must derive your offspring. Men obscure

Could get none such as you. The portraiture

Of Jove-sustain'd and sceptre-bearing kings

Your either person in his presence brings."

An ox's fat chine then they up did lift,

And set before the guests; which was a gift,

Sent as an honour to the king's own taste.

They saw yet 'twas but to be eaten plac'd,

And fell to it. But food and wine's care past,

Telemachus thus prompted Nestor's son,

(His ear close laying, to be heard of none):

"Consider, thou whom most of my mind esteems,

The brass-work here, how rich it is in beams,

And how, besides, it makes the whole house sound;

What gold, and amber, silver, ivory, round

Is wrought about it. Out of doubt, the hall

Of Jupiter Olympius hath of all

This state the like. How many infinites

Take up to admiration all men's sights!"

Atrides over-heard, and said: "Lov'd son,

No mortal must affect contentión

With Jove, whose dwellings are of endless date.

Perhaps of men some one may emulate,

Or none, my house, or me; for I am one

That many a grave extreme have undergone,

Much error felt by sea, and till th' eighth year,

Had never stay, but wander'd far and near,

Cyprus, Phœnicia, and Sidonia,

And fetch'd the far-off Æthiopia,

Reach'd the Erembi of Arabia,

And Lybia, where with horns ewes yean their lambs,

Which ev'ry full year ewes are three times dams,

Where neither king, nor shepherd, want comes near

Of cheese, or flesh, or sweet milk; all the year

They ever milk their ewes. And here while I

Err'd, gath'ring means to live, one, murd'rously,

Unwares, unseen, bereft my brother's life,

Chiefly betray'd by his abhorréd wife.

So hold I, not enjoying, what you see.

And of your fathers, if they living be,

You must have heard this, since my suff'rings were

So great and famous; from this palace here

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

And substancéd with such a precious deal

Of well-got treasure) banish'd by the doom

Of Fate, and erring as I had no home.

And now I have, and use it, not to take

Th' entire delight it offers, but to make

Continual wishes, that a triple part

Of all it holds were wanting, so my heart

Were eas'd of sorrows, taken for their deaths

That fell at Troy, by their revivéd breaths.

And thus sit I here weeping, mourning still

Each least man lost; and sometimes make mine ill,

In paying just tears for their loss, my joy.

Sometimes I breathe my woes, for in annoy

The pleasure soon admits satiety.

But all these men's wants wet not so mine eye,

Though much they move me, as one sole man's miss,

For which my sleep and meat ev'n loathsome is

In his renew'd thought, since no Greek hath won

Grace for such labours as Laërtes' son

Hath wrought and suffer'd, to himself nought else

But future sorrows forging, to me hells

For his long absence, since I cannot know

If life or death detain him; since such woe

For his love, old Laërtes, his wise wife,

And poor young son sustains, whom new with life

He left as sireless." This speech grief to tears

(Pour'd from the son's lids on the earth) his ears,

Told of the father, did excite; who kept

His cheeks dry with his red weed as he wept,

His both hands us'd therein. Atrides then

Began to know him, and did strife retain,

If he should let himself confess his sire,

Or with all fitting circumstance enquire.

While this his thoughts disputed, forth did shine,

Like to the golden distaff-deck'd Divine,

From her bed's high and odoriferous room,

Helen. To whom, of an elaborate loom,

Adresta set a chair; Alcippe brought

A piece of tapestry of fine wool wrought;

Phylo a silver cabinet conferr'd,

Giv'n by Alcandra, nuptially endear'd

To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes

Th' Ægyptian city was, where wealth in heaps

His famous house held, out of which did go,

In gift t' Atrides, silver bath-tubs two,

Two tripods, and of fine gold talents ten.

His wife did likewise send to Helen then

Fair gifts, a distaff that of gold was wrought,

And that rich cabinet that Phylo brought,

Round, and with gold ribb'd, now of fine thread full;

On which extended (crown'd with finest wool,

Of violet gloss) the golden distaff-lay.

She took her state-chair, and a foot-stool's stay

Had for her feet; and of her husband thus

Ask'd to know all things: "Is it known to us,

King Menelaus, whom these men commend

Themselves for, that our court now takes to friend?

I must affirm, be I deceiv'd or no,

I never yet saw man nor woman so

Like one another, as this man is like

Ulysses' son. With admiration strike

His looks my thoughts, that they should carry now

Pow'r to persuade me thus, who did but know,

When newly he was born, the form they bore.

But 'tis his father's grace, whom more and more

His grace resembles, that makes me retain

Thought that he now is like Telemachus, then

Left by his sire, when Greece did undertake

Troy's bold war for my impudency's sake."

He answer'd: "Now wife, what you think I know,

The true cast of his father's eye doth show

In his eyes' order. Both his head and hair,

His hands and feet, his very father's are.

Of whom, so well remember'd, I should now

Acknowledge for me his continual flow

Of cares and perils, yet still patient.

But I should too much move him, that doth vent

Such bitter tears for that which hath been spoke,

Which, shunning soft show, see how he would cloak,

And with his purple weed his weepings hide."

Then Nestor's son, Pisistratus, replied:

"Great pastor of the people, kept of God!

He is Ulysses' son, but his abode

Not made before here, and he modest too,

He holds it an indignity to do

A deed so vain, to use the boast of words,

Where your words are on wing; whose voice affords

Delight to us as if a God did break

The air amongst us, and vouchsafe to speak.

But me my father, old duke Nestor, sent

To be his consort hither; his content

Not to be heighten'd so as with your sight,

In hope that therewith words and actions might

Inform his comforts from you, since he is

Extremely griev'd and injur'd by the miss

Of his great father; suff'ring ev'n at home,

And few friends found to help him overcome

His too weak suff'rance, now his sire is gone;

Amongst the people, not afforded one

To check the miseries that mate him thus.

And this the state is of Telemachus."

"O Gods," said he, "how certain, now, I see

My house enjoys that friend's son, that for me

Hath undergone so many willing fights!

Whom I resolv'd, past all the Grecian knights,

To hold in love, if our return by seas

The far-off Thunderer did ever please

To grant our wishes. And to his respect

A palace and a city to erect,

My vow had bound me; whither bringing then

His riches, and his son, and all his men,

From barren Ithaca, (some one sole town

Inhabited about him batter'd down)

All should in Argos live. And there would I

Ease him of rule, and take the empery

Of all on me. And often here would we,

Delighting, loving either's company,

Meet and converse; whom nothing should divide,

Till death's black veil did each all over hide.

But this perhaps hath been a mean to take

Ev'n God himself with envy; who did make

Ulysses therefore only the unblest,

That should not reach his loved country's rest."

These woes made ev'ry one with woe in love;

Ev'n Argive Helen wept, the Seed of Jove;

Ulysses' son wept; Atreus' son did weep;

And Nestor's son his eyes in tears did steep,

But his tears fell not from the present cloud

That from Ulysses was exhal'd, but flow'd

From brave Antilochus' remember'd due,

Whom the renown'd Son of the Morning slew,

Which yet he thus excus'd: "O Atreus' son!

Old Nestor says, there lives not such a one

Amongst all mortals as Atrides is

For deathless wisdom. 'Tis a praise of his,

Still giv'n in your remembrance, when at home

Our speech concerns you. Since then overcome

You please to be with sorrow, ev'n to tears,

That are in wisdom so exempt from peers,

Vouchsafe the like effect in me excuse,

If it be lawful, I affect no use

Of tears thus after meals; at least, at night;

But when the morn brings forth, with tears, her light,

It shall not then impair me to bestow

My tears on any worthy's overthrow.

It is the only rite that wretched men

Can do dead friends, to cut hair, and complain.

But Death my brother took, whom none could call

The Grecian coward, you best knew of all.

I was not there, nor saw, but men report

Antilochus excell'd the common sort

For footmanship, or for the chariot race,

Or in the fight for hardy hold of place."

"O friend," said he, "since thou hast spoken so,

At all parts as one wise should say and do,

And like one far beyond thyself in years,

Thy words shall bounds be to our former tears.

O he is questionless a right-born son,

That of his father hath not only won

The person but the wisdom; and that sire

Complete himself that hath a son entire,

Jove did not only his full fate adorn,

When he was wedded, but when he was born.

As now Saturnius, through his life's whole date,

Hath Nestor's bliss rais'd to as steep a state,

Both in his age to keep in peace his house,

And to have children wise and valorous.

But let us not forget our rear feast thus.

Let some give water here. Telemachus!

The morning shall yield time to you and me

To do what fits, and reason mutually."

This said, the careful servant of the king,

Asphalion, pour'd on th' issue of the spring;

And all to ready feast set ready hand.

But Helen now on new device did stand,

Infusing straight a medicine to their wine,

That, drowning care and angers; did decline

All thought of ill. Who drunk her cup could shed

All that day not a tear, no not if dead

That day his father or his mother were,

Not if his brother, child, or chiefest dear,

He should see murder'd then before his face.

Such useful medicines, only borne in grace

Of what was good, would Helen ever have.

And this juice to her Polydamna gave

The wife of Thoon, an Ægyptian born,

Whose rich earth herbs of medicine do adorn

In great abundance. Many healthful are,

And many baneful. Ev'ry man is there

A good physician out of Nature's grace,

For all the nation sprung of Pæon's race.

When Helen then her medicine had infus'd,

She bad pour wine to it, and this speech us'd:

"Atrides, and these good men's sons, great Jove

Makes good and ill one after other move,

In all things earthly; for he can do all.

The woes past, therefore, he so late let fall,

The comforts he affords us let us take;

Feast, and, with fit discourses, merry make.

Nor will I other use. As then our blood

Griev'd for Ulysses, since he was so good,

Since he was good, let us delight to hear

How good he was, and what his suff'rings were;

Though ev'ry fight, and ev'ry suff'ring deed,

Patient Ulysses underwent, exceed

My woman's pow'r to number, or to name.

But what he did, and suffer'd, when he came

Amongst the Trojans, where ye Grecians all

Took part with suff'rance, I in part can call

To your kind memories. How with ghastly wounds

Himself he mangled, and the Trojan bounds,

Thrust thick with enemies, adventur'd on,

His royal shoulders having cast upon

Base abject weeds, and enter'd like a slave.

Then, beggar-like, he did of all men crave,

And such a wretch was, as the whole Greek fleet

Brought not besides. And thus through ev'ry street

He crept discov'ring, of no one man known.

And yet through all this diff'rence, I alone

Smoked his true person, talk'd with him; but he

Fled me with wiles still. Nor could we agree,

Till I disclaim'd him quite; and so (as mov'd

With womanly remorse of one that prov'd

So wretched an estate, whate'er he were)

Won him to take my house. And yet ev'n there,

Till freely I, to make him doubtless, swore

A pow'rful oath, to let him reach the shore

Of ships and tents before Troy understood,

I could not force on him his proper good.

But then I bath'd and sooth'd him, and he then

Confess'd, and told me all; and, having slain

A number of the Trojan guards, retir'd,

And reach'd the fleet, for sleight and force admir'd.

Their husbands' deaths by him the Trojan wives

Shriek'd for; but I made triumphs for their lives,

For then my heart conceiv'd, that once again

I should reach home; and yet did still retain

Woe for the slaughters Venus made for me,

When both my husband, my Hermione,

And bridal room, she robb'd of so much right,

And drew me from my country with her sleight,

Though nothing under heaven I here did need,

That could my fancy or my beauty feed."

Her husband said: "Wife! what you please to tell

Is true at all parts, and becomes you well;

And I myself, that now may say have seen

The minds and manners of a world of men,

And great heroes, measuring many a ground,

Have never, by these eyes that light me, found

One with a bosom so to be belov'd,

As that in which th' accomplish'd spirit mov'd

Of patient Ulysses. What, brave man,

He both did act, and suffer, when he wan

The town of Ilion, in the brave-built horse,

When all we chief states of the Grecian force

Were hous'd together, bringing death and Fate

Amongst the Trojans, you, wife, may relate;

For you, at last, came to us; God, that would

The Trojans' glory give, gave charge you should

Approach the engine; and Deiphobus,

The god-like, follow'd. Thrice ye circled us

With full survey of it; and often tried

The hollow crafts that in it were implied.

When all the voices of their wives in it

You took on you with voice so like and fit,

And ev'ry man by name so visited,

That I, Ulysses, the king Diomed,

(Set in the midst, and hearing how you call'd)

Tydides, and myself (as half appall'd

With your remorseful plaints) would passing fain

Have broke our silence, rather than again

Endure, respectless, their so moving cries.

But Ithacus our strongest phantasies

Contain'd within us from the slenderest noise,

And ev'ry man there sat without a voice.

Anticlus only would have answer'd thee,

But his speech Ithacus incessantly

With strong hand held in, till, Minerva's call

Charging thee off, Ulysses sav'd us all."

Telemachus replied: "Much greater is

My grief, for hearing this high praise of his.

For all this doth not his sad death divert,

Nor can, though in him swell'd an iron heart.

Prepare, and lead then, if you please, to rest:

Sleep, that we hear not, will content us best."

Then Argive Helen made her handmaid go,

And put fair bedding in the portico,

Lay purple blankets on, rugs warm and soft,

And cast an arras coverlet aloft.

They torches took, made haste, and made the bed;

When both the guests were to their lodgings led

Within a portico without the house.

Atrides, and his large-train-wearing spouse,

The excellent of women, for the way,

In a retir'd receit, together lay.

The Morn arose; the king rose, and put on

His royal weeds, his sharp sword hung upon

His ample shoulders, forth his chamber went,

And did the person of a God present.

Telemachus accosts him, who begun

Speech of his journey's proposition:

"And what, my young Ulyssean heroë,

Provok'd thee on the broad back of the sea,

To visit Lacedæmon the divine?

Speak truth, some public [good] or only thine?"

"I come," said he, "to hear, if any fame

Breath'd of my father to thy notice came.

My house is sack'd, my fat works of the field

Are all destroy'd; my house doth nothing yield

But enemies, that kill my harmless sheep,

And sinewy oxen, nor will ever keep

Their steels without them. And these men are they

That woo my mother, most inhumanly

Committing injury on injury.

To thy knees therefore I am come, t' attend

Relation of the sad and wretched end

My erring father felt, if witness'd by

Your own eyes, or the certain news that fly

From others' knowledges. For, more than is

The usual heap of human miseries,

His mother bore him to. Vouchsafe me then,

Without all ruth of what I can sustain,

The plain and simple truth of all you know.

Let me beseech so much, if ever vow

Was made, and put in good effect to you,

At Troy, where suff'rance bred you so much smart,

Upon my father good Ulysses' part,

And quit it now to me (himself in youth)

Unfolding only the uncloséd truth."

He, deeply sighing, answer'd him: "O shame,

That such poor vassals should affect the fame

To share the joys of such a worthy's bed!

As when a hind, her calves late farrowéd,

To give suck, enters the bold lion's den,

He roots of hills and herby vallies then

For food (there feeding) hunting; but at length

Returning to his cavern, gives his strength

The lives of both the mother and her brood

In deaths indecent; so the Wooers' blood

Must pay Ulysses' pow'rs as sharp an end.

O would to Jove, Apollo, and thy friend

The wise Minerva, that thy father were

As once he was, when he his spirits did rear

Against Philomelides, in a fight

Perform'd in well-built Lesbos, where, down-right

He strook the earth with him, and gat a shout

Of all the Grecians! O, if now full out

He were as then, and with the Wooers coped,

Short-liv'd they all were, and their nuptials hoped

Would prove as desp'rate. But, for thy demand

Enforc'd with pray'rs, I'll let thee understand

The truth directly, nor decline a thought,

Much less deceive, or sooth thy search in ought;

But what the old and still-true-spoken God,

That from the sea breathes oracles abroad,

Disclos'd to me, to thee I'll all impart,

Nor hide one word from thy sollicitous heart.

I was in Ægypt, where a mighty time

The Gods detain'd me, though my natural clime

I never so desir'd, because their homes

I did not greet with perfect hecatombs.

For they will put men evermore in mind,

How much their masterly commandments bind.

There is, besides, a certain island, call'd

Pharos, that with the high-wav'd sea is wall'd,

Just against Ægypt, and so much remote,

As in a whole day, with a fore-gale smote,

A hollow ship can sail. And this isle bears

A port most portly, where sea-passengers

Put in still for fresh water, and away

To sea again. Yet here the Gods did stay

My fleet full twenty days; the winds, that are

Masters at sea, no prosp'rous puff would spare

To put us off; and all my victuals here

Had quite corrupted, as my men's minds were,

Had not a certain Goddess giv'n regard,

And pitied me in an estate so hard;

And 'twas Idothea, honour'd Proteus' seed,

That old sea-farer. Her mind I make bleed

With my compassion, when (walk'd all alone,

From all my soldiers, that were ever gone

About the isle on fishing with hooks bent;

Hunger their bellies on her errand sent)

She came close to me, spake, and thus began:

'Of all men thou art the most foolish man!

Or slack in business, or stay'st here of choice,

And dost in all thy suff'rances rejoice,

That thus long liv'st detain'd here, and no end

Canst give thy tarriance? Thou dost much offend

The minds of all thy fellows.' I replied:

'Whoever thou art of the Deified,

I must affirm, that no way with my will

I make abode here; but, it seems, some ill

The Gods, inhabiting broad heav'n, sustain

Against my getting off. Inform me then,

For Godheads all things know, what God is he

That stays my passage from the fishy sea?'

'Stranger,' said she, 'I'll tell thee true: There lives

An old sea-farer in these seas, that gives

A true solution of all secrets here,

Who deathless Proteus is, th' Ægyptian peer,

Who can the deeps of all the seas exquire,

Who Neptune's priest is, and, they say, the sire

That did beget me. Him, if any way

Thou couldst inveigle, he would clear display

Thy course from hence, and how far off doth lie

Thy voyage's whole scope through Neptune's sky.

Informing thee, O God-preserv'd, beside,

If thy desires would so be satisfied,

Whatever good or ill hath got event,

In all the time thy long and hard course spent,

Since thy departure from thy house.' This said;

Again I answer'd: 'Make the sleights display'd

Thy father useth, lest his foresight see,

Or his foreknowledge taking note of me,

He flies the fixt place of his us'd abode.

'Tis hard for man to countermine with God.'

She straight replied: 'I'll utter truth in all:

When heav'n's supremest height the sun doth skall,

The old Sea-tell-truth leaves the deeps, and hides

Amidst a black storm, when the West Wind chides,

In caves still sleeping. Round about him sleep

(With short feet swimming forth the foamy deep)

The sea-calves, lovely Halosydnes call'd,

From whom a noisome odour is exhal'd,

Got from the whirl-pools, on whose earth they lie.

Here, when the morn illustrates all the sky,

I'll guide, and seat thee in the fittest place

For the performance thou hast now in chace.

In mean time, reach thy fleet, and choose out three

Of best exploit, to go as aids to thee.

But now I'll show thee all the old God's sleights:

He first will number, and take all the sights

Of those his guard, that on the shore arrives.

When having view'd, and told them forth by fives,

He takes place in their midst, and there doth sleep,

Like to a shepherd midst his flock of sheep.

In his first sleep, call up your hardiest cheer,

Vigour and violence, and hold him there,

In spite of all his strivings to be gone.

He then will turn himself to ev'ry one

Of all things that in earth creep and respire,

In water swim, or shine in heav'nly fire.

Yet still hold you him firm, and much the more

Press him from passing. But when, as before,

When sleep first bound his pow'rs, his form ye see,

Then cease your force, and th' old heroë free,

And then demand, which heav'n-born it may be

That so afflicts you, hind'ring your retreat,

And free sea-passage to your native seat.'

This said, she div'd into the wavy seas,

And I my course did to my ships address,

That on the sands stuck; where arriv'd, we made

Our supper ready. Then th' ambrosian shade

Of night fell on us, and to sleep we fell.

Rosy Aurora rose; we rose as well,

And three of them on whom I most relied,

For firm at ev'ry force, I choos'd, and hied

Straight to the many-river-servéd seas;

And all assistance ask'd the Deities.

Mean time Idothea the sea's broad breast

Embrac'd, and brought for me, and all my rest,

Four of the sea-calves' skins but newly flay'd,

To work a wile which she had fashionéd

Upon her father. Then, within the sand

A covert digging, when these calves should land,

She sat expecting. We came close to her;

She plac'd us orderly, and made us wear

Each one his calf's skin. But we then must pass

A huge exploit. The sea-calves' savour was

So passing sour, they still being bred at seas,

It much afflicted us; for who can please

To lie by one of these same sea-bred whales?

But she preserves us, and to memory calls

A rare commodity; she fetch'd to us

Ambrosia, that an air most odorous

Bears still about it, which she 'nointed round

Our either nosthrils, and in it quite drown'd

The nasty whale-smell. Then the great event

The whole morn's date, with spirits patient,

We lay expecting. When bright noon did flame,

Forth from the sea in shoals the sea-calves came,

And orderly, at last lay down and slept

Along the sands. And then th' old Sea-God crept

From forth the deeps, and found his fat calves there,

Survey'd, and number'd, and came never near

The craft we us'd, but told us five for calves.

His temples then dis-eas'd with sleep he salves;

And in rush'd we, with an abhorréd cry,

Cast all our hands about him manfully;

And then th' old Forger all his forms began:

First was a lion with a mighty mane,

Then next a dragon, a pied panther then,

A vast boar next, and suddenly did strain

All into water. Last he was a tree,

Curl'd all at top, and shot up to the sky.

We, with resolv'd hearts, held him firmly still,

When th' old one (held too strait for all his skill

To extricate) gave words, and question'd me:

'Which of the Gods, O Atreus' son,' said he,

'Advis'd and taught thy fortitude this sleight,

To take and hold me thus in my despite?'

'What asks thy wish now?' I replied. 'Thou know'st.

Why dost thou ask? What wiles are these thou show'st?

I have within this isle been held for wind

A wondrous time, and can by no means find

An end to my retention. It hath spent

The very heart in me. Give thou then vent

To doubts thus bound in me, ye Gods know all,

Which of the Godheads doth so foully fall

On my addression home, to stay me here,

Avert me from my way, the fishy clear

Barr'd to my passage?' He replied: 'Of force,

If to thy home thou wishest free recourse,

To Jove, and all the other Deities,

Thou must exhibit solemn sacrifice;

And then the black sea for thee shall be clear,

Till thy lov'd country's settled reach. But where

Ask these rites thy performance? 'Tis a fate

To thee and thy affairs appropriate,

That thou shalt never see thy friends, nor tread

Thy country's earth, nor see inhabited

Thy so magnificent house, till thou make good

Thy voyage back to the Ægyptian flood,

Whose waters fell from Jove, and there hast giv'n

To Jove, and all Gods housed in ample heav'n,

Devoted hecatombs, and then free ways

Shall open to thee, clear'd of all delays.'

This told he; and, methought, he brake my heart,

In such a long and hard course to divert

My hope for home, and charge my back retreat

As far as Ægypt. I made answer yet:

'Father, thy charge I'll perfect; but before

Resolve me truly, if their natural shore

All those Greeks, and their ships, do safe enjoy,

That Nestor and myself left, when from Troy

We first rais'd sail? Or whether any died

At sea a death unwish'd? Or, satisfied,

When war was past, by friends embrac'd, in peace

Resign'd their spirits? He made answer: 'Cease

To ask so far. It fits thee not to be

So cunning in thine own calamity.

Nor seek to learn what learn'd thou shouldst forget.

Men's knowledges have proper limits set,

And should not prease into the mind of God.

But 'twill not long be, as my thoughts abode,

Before thou buy this curious skill with tears.

Many of those, whose states so tempt thine ears,

Are stoop'd by death, and many left alive,

One chief of which in strong hold doth survive,

Amidst the broad sea. Two, in their retreat,

Are done to death. I list not to repeat

Who fell at Troy, thyself was there in fight,

But in return swift Ajax lost the light,

In his long-oar'd ship. Neptune, yet, awhile

Saft him unwrack'd, to the Gyræan isle,

A mighty-rock removing from his way.

And surely he had 'scap'd the fatal day,

In spite of Pallas, if to that foul deed

He in her fane did, (when he ravishéd

The Trojan prophetess) he had not here

Adjoin'd an impious boast, that he would bear,

Despite the Gods, his ship safe through the waves

Then rais'd against him. These his impious braves

When Neptune heard, in his strong hand he took

His massy trident, and so soundly strook

The rock Gyræan, that in two it cleft;

Of which one fragment on the land he left,

The other fell into the troubled seas;

At which first rush'd Ajax Oïliades,

And split his ship, and then himself afloat

Swum on the rough waves of the world's vast mote,

Till having drunk a salt cup for his sin,

There perish'd he. Thy brother yet did win

The wreath from death, while in the waves they strove,

Afflicted by the rev'rend wife of Jove.

But when the steep mount of the Malian shore

He seem'd to reach, a most tempestuous blore,

Far to the fishy world that sighs so sore,

Straight ravish'd him again as far away,

As to th' extreme bounds where the Agrians stay,

Where first Thyestes dwelt, but then his son

Ægisthus Thyestiades liv'd. This done,

When his return untouch'd appear'd again,

Back turn'd the Gods the wind, and set him then

Hard by his house. Then, full of joy, he left

His ship, and close t' his country earth he cleft,

Kiss'd it, and wept for joy, pour'd tear on tear,

To set so wishedly his footing there.

But see, a sentinel that all the year

Crafty Ægisthus in a watchtow'r set

To spy his landing, for reward as great

As two gold talents, all his pow'rs did call

To strict remembrance of his charge, and all

Discharg'd at first sight, which at first he cast

On Agamemnon, and with all his haste

Inform'd Ægisthus. He an instant train

Laid for his slaughter: Twenty chosen men

Of his plebeians he in ambush laid;

His other men he charg'd to see purvey'd

A feast; and forth, with horse and chariots grac'd,

He rode t' invite him, but in heart embrac'd

Horrible welcomes, and to death did bring,

With treach'rous slaughter, the unwary king,

Receiv'd him at a feast, and, like an ox

Slain at his manger, gave him bits and knocks.

No one left of Atrides' train, nor one

Sav'd to Ægisthus, but himself alone,

All strew'd together there the bloody court.'

This said, my soul he sunk with his report,

Flat on the sands I fell, tears spent their store,

I light abhorr'd, my heart would live no more.

When dry of tears, and tir'd of tumbling there,

Th' old Tell-truth thus my daunted spirits did cheer:

'No more spend tears nor time, O Atreus' son,

With ceaseless weeping never wish was won,

Use uttermost assay to reach thy home,

And all unwares upon the murderer come,

For torture, taking him thyself alive;

Or let Orestes, that should far out-strive

Thee in fit vengeance, quickly quit the light

Of such a dark soul, and do thou the rite

Of burial to him with a funeral feast.'

With these last words I fortified my breast,

In which again a gen'rous spring began

Of fitting comfort, as I was a man;

But, as a brother, I must ever mourn.

Yet forth I went, and told him the return

Of these I knew; but he had nam'd a third,

Held on the broad sea, still with life inspir'd,

Whom I besought to know, though likewise dead,

And I must mourn alike. He answeréd:

'He is Laertes' son; whom I beheld

In nymph Calypso's palace, who compell'd

His stay with her, and, since he could not see

His country earth, he mourn'd incessantly.

For he had neither ship instruct with oars,

Nor men to fetch him from those stranger shores.

Where leave we him, and to thy self descend,

Whom not in Argos Fate nor Death shall end,

But the immortal ends of all the earth,

So rul'd by them that order death by birth,

The fields Elysian, Fate to thee will give;

Where Rhadamanthus rules, and where men live

A never-troubled life, where snow, nor show'rs,

Nor irksome Winter spends his fruitless pow'rs,

But from the ocean Zephyr still resumes

A constant breath, that all the fields perfumes.

Which, since thou marriedst Helen, are thy hire,

And Jove himself is by her side thy sire.'

This said; he div'd the deepsome wat'ry heaps;

I and my tried men took us to our ships,

And worlds of thoughts I varied with my steps.

Arriv'd and shipp'd, the silent solemn night

And sleep bereft us of our visual light.

At morn, masts, sails, rear'd, we sat, left the shores,

And beat the foamy ocean with our oars.

Again then we the Jove-fall'n flood did fetch,

As far as Ægypt; where we did beseech

The Gods with hecatombs; whose angers ceast,

I tomb'd my brother that I might be blest.

All rites perform'd, all haste I made for home,

And all the prosp'rous winds about were come,

I had the passport now of ev'ry God,

And here clos'd all these labours' period.

Here stay then till th' eleventh or twelfth day's light,

And I'll dismiss thee well, gifts exquisite

Preparing for thee, chariot, horses three,

A cup of curious frame to serve for thee

To serve th' immortal Gods with sacrifice,

Mindful of me while all suns light thy skies."

He answer'd: "Stay me not too long time here,

Though I could sit attending all the year.

Nor should my house, nor parents, with desire,

Take my affections from you, so on fire

With love to hear you are my thoughts; but so

My Pylian friends I shall afflict with woe

Who mourn ev'n this stay. Whatsoever be

The gifts your grace is to bestow on me,

Vouchsafe them such as I may bear and save

For your sake ever. Horse, I list not have,

To keep in Ithaca, but leave them here,

To your soil's dainties, where the broad fields bear

Sweet cypers grass, where men-fed lote doth flow,

Where wheat-like spelt, and wheat itself, doth grow,

Where barley, white, and spreading like a tree;

But Ithaca hath neither ground to be,

For any length it comprehends, a race

To try a horse's speed, nor any place

To make him fat in; fitter far to feed

A cliff-bred goat, than raise or please a steed.

Of all isles, Ithaca doth least provide

Or meads to feed a horse, or ways to ride."

He, smiling, said: "Of good blood art thou, son.

What speech, so young! What observatión

Hast thou made of the world! I well am pleas'd

To change my gifts to thee, as being confess'd

Unfit indeed, my store is such I may.

Of all my house-gifts then, that up I lay

For treasure there, I will bestow on thee

The fairest, and of greatest price to me.

I will bestow on thee a rich carv'd cup,

Of silver all, but all the brims wrought up

With finest gold; it was the only thing

That the heroical Sidonian king

Presented to me, when we were to part

At his receipt of me, and 'twas the art

Of that great Artist that of heav'n is free;

And yet ev'n this will I bestow on thee."

This speech thus ended, guests came, and did bring

Muttons, for presents, to the God-like king,

And spirit-prompting wine, that strenuous makes.

Their riband-wreathed wives brought fruit and cakes.

Thus in this house did these their feast apply;

And in Ulysses' house activity

The Wooers practis'd; tossing of the spear,

The stone, and hurling; thus delighted, where

They exercis'd such insolence before,

Ev'n in the court that wealthy pavements wore

Antinous did still their strifes decide,

And he that was in person deified

Eurymachus; both ring-leaders of all,

For in their virtues they were principal.

These by Noëmon, son to Phronius,

Were sided now, who made the question thus:

"Antinous! Does any friend here know,

When this Telemachus returns, or no,

From sandy Pylos? He made bold to take

My ship with him; of which, I now should make

Fit use myself, and sail in her as far

As spacious Elis, where of mine there are

Twelve delicate mares, and under their sides go

Laborious mules, that yet did never know

The yoke, nor labour; some of which should bear

The taming now, if I could fetch them there."

This speech the rest admir'd, nor dream'd that he

Neleïan Pylos ever thought to see,

But was at field about his flocks' survey,

Or thought his herdsmen held him so away.

Eupitheus son, Antinous, then replied:

"When went he, or with what train dignified?

Of his selected Ithacensian youth?

Prest men, or bond men, were they? Tell the truth.

Could he effect this? Let me truly know.

To gain thy vessel did he violence show,

And us'd her 'gainst thy will? or had her free,

When fitting question he had made with thee?"

Noëmon answer'd: "I did freely give

My vessel to him. Who deserves to live

That would do other, when such men as he

Did in distress ask? He should churlish be

That would deny him. Of our youth the best

Amongst the people, to the interest

His charge did challenge in them, giving way,

With all the tribute all their pow'rs could pay.

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

Who Mentor was, or God. A Deity's shew

Mask'd in his likeness. But, to think 'twas he,

I much admire, for I did clearly see,

But yester-morning, God-like Mentor here;

Yet th' other ev'ning he took shipping there,

And went for Pylos." Thus went he for home,

And left the rest with envy overcome;