The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (101 page)

Thou canst not soak so through my faculties,

For I did never either honour thee

Or give thee love, to bring these tales to me,

But in my fear of hospitable Jove

Thou didst to this pass my affections move.’

‘You stand exceeding much incredulous,’

Replied Ulysses, ‘to have witness’d thus

My word and oath, yet yield no trust at all.

But make we now a covenant here, and call

The dreadful gods to witness, that take seat

In large Olympus: if your king’s retreat

Prove made, ev’n hither, you shall furnish me

With cloak and coat, and make my passage free

For lov’d Dulichius; if, as fits my vow,

Your king return not, let your servants throw

My old limbs headlong from some rock most high,

That other poor men may take fear to lie.’

The herdsman, that had gifts in him divine,

Replied: ‘O guest, how shall this fame of mine

And honest virtue, amongst men, remain

Now and hereafter, without worthy stain,

If I, that led thee to my hovel here,

And made thee fitting hospitable cheer,

Should after kill thee, and thy loved mind

Force from thy bones? Or how should stand inclin’d

With any faith my will t’ importune Jove

In any prayer hereafter for his love?

Come, now ’tis supper’s hour, and instant haste

My men will make home, when our sweet repast

We’ll taste together.’ This discourse they held

In mutual kind, when from a neighbour field

His swine and swine-herds came, who in their cotes

Inclos’d their herds for sleep, which mighty throats

Laid out in ent’ring. Then the god-like swain

His men enjoin’d thus: ‘Bring me to be slain

A chief swine female for my stranger guest,

When all together we will take our feast,

Refreshing now our spirits, that all day take

Pains in our swine’s good, who may therefore make

For our pains with them all amends with one,

Since others eat our labours, and take none.’

This said, his sharp steel hew’d down wood, and they

A passing fat swine haled out of the sty,

Of five years old, which to the fire they put.

When first Eumaeus from the front did cut

The sacred hair, and cast it in the fire,

Then pray’d to heav
’
n; for still before desire

Was serv’d with food, in their so rude abodes,

Not the poor swine-herd would forget the gods;

Good souls they bore, how bad soever were

The habits that their bodies’ parts did bear.

When all the deathless deities besought,

That wise Ulysses might be safely brought

Home to his house; then with a log of oak

Left lying by, high lifting it, a stroke

He gave so deadly it made life expire.

Then cut the rest her throat, and all in fire

They hid and sing’d her, cut her up; and then,

The master took the office from the men,

Who on the altar did the parts impose

That served for sacrifice, beginning close

About the belly, thorough which he went,

And (all the chief fat gathering) gave it vent

(Part dredg’d with flour) into the sacred flame;

Then cut they up the joints, and roasted them,

Drew all from spit, and serv’d in dishes all.

Then rose Eumaeus (who was general

In skill to guide each act his fit event)

And, all in sev’n parts cut, the first part went

To service of the nymphs and Mercury,

To whose names he did rites of piety

In vows particular; and all the rest

He shared to every one, but his lov’d guest

He grac’d with all the chine, and of that king,

To have his heart cheer’d, set up every string.

Which he observing said: ‘I would to Jove,

Eumaeus, thou liv’dst in his worthy love

As great as mine, that giv’st to such a guest

As my poor self of all thy goods the best.’

Eumaeus answer’d: ‘Eat, unhappy wretch,

And to what here is at thy pleasure reach.

This I have, this thou want’st; thus god will give,

Thus take away, in us, and all that live.

To his will’s equal centre all things fall,

His mind he must have, for he can do all.’

Thus having eat, and to his wine descended,

Before he serv’d his own thirst, he commended

The first use of it in fit sacrifice

(As of his meat) to all the deities,

And to the city-raser’s hand applied

The second cup, whose place was next his side.

Mesaulius did distribute the meat

(To which charge was Eumaeus solely set,

In absence of Ulysses, by the queen

And old Laertes), and this man had been

Bought by Eumaeus, with his faculties

Employ’d then in the Taphian merchandise.

But now, to food appos’d, and order’d thus,

All fell. Desire suffic’d, Mesaulius

Did take away. For bed then next they were,

All throughly satisfied with complete cheer.

The night then came, ill, and no taper shin’d;

Jove rain’d her whole date; th’ ever-wat’ry wind

Zephyr blew loud; and Laertiades

(Approving kind Eumaeus’ carefulness

For his whole good) made far about assay,

To get some cast-off cassock (lest he lay

That rough night cold) of him, or any one

Of those his servants; when he thus begun:

‘Hear me, Eumaeus, and my other friends,

I’ll use a speech that to my glory tends,

Since I have drunk wine past my usual guise.

Strong wine commands the fool and moves the wise,

Moves and impels him too to sing and dance,

And break in pleasant laughters, and, perchance,

Prefer a speech too that were better in.

But when my spirits once to speak begin,

I shall not then dissemble. Would to heav’n,

I were as young, and had my forces driv’n

As close together, as when once our pow’rs

We led to ambush under th’ Ilion tow’rs!

Where Ithacus and Menelaus were

The two commanders, when it pleas’d them there

To take myself for third, when to the town

And lofty walls we led; we couch’d close down,

All arm’d, amids the osiers and the reeds,

Which oftentimes th’ o’er-flowing river feeds.

The cold night came, and th’ icy northern gale

Blew bleak upon us, after which did fall

A snow so cold, it cut as in it beat

A frozen water, which was all concrete

About our shields like crystal. All made fain

Above our arms to clothe, and clothe again.

And so we made good shift, our shields beside

Clapp’d close upon our clothes, to rest and hide

From all discovery. But I, poor fool,

Left my weeds with my men, because so cool

I thought it could not prove; which thought my pride

A little strengthen’d, being loath to hide

A goodly glittering garment I had on;

And so I follow’d with my shield alone,

And that brave weed. But when the night near ended

Her course on earth, and that the stars descended,

I jogg’d Ulysses, who lay passing near,

And spake to him, that had a nimble ear,

Assuring him, that long I could not lie

Amongst the living, for the fervency

Of that sharp night would kill me, since as then

My evil angel made me with my men

Leave all weeds but a fine one. “But I know

’Tis vain to talk; here wants all remedy now.”

This said, he bore that understanding part

In his prompt spirit that still show’d his art

In fight and counsel, saying (in a word,

And that low whisper’d) “Peace, lest you afford

Some Greek note of your softness.” No word more,

But made as if his stern austerity bore

My plight no pity; yet, as still he lay

His head reposing on his hand, gave way

To this invention: “Hear me friends, a dream

(That was of some celestial light a beam)

Stood in my sleep before me, prompting me

With this fit notice: ‘We are far,’ said he,

‘From out our fleet. Let one go then, and try

If Agamemnon will afford supply

To what we now are strong.’ ” This stirr’d a speed

In Thoas to th’ affair, whose purple weed

He left for haste; which then I took, and lay

In quiet after, till the dawn of day.

This shift Ulysses made for one in need,

And would to heav’n, that youth such spirit did feed

Now in my nerves, and that my joints were knit

With such a strength as made me then held fit

To lead men with Ulysses! I should then

Seem worth a weed that fits a herdsman’s men,

For two respects: to gain a thankful friend,

And to a good man’s need a good extend.’

‘O father,’ said Eumaeus,’ thou hast shown

Good cause for us to give thee good renown,

Not using any word that was not freed

From all least ill. Thou, therefore, shalt not need

Or coat or other thing, that aptly may

Beseem a wretched suppliant for defray

Of this night’s need. But, when her golden throne

The Morn ascends, you must resume your own,

For here you must not dream of many weeds,

Or any change at all. We serve our needs

As you do yours: one back, one coat. But when

Ulysses’ loved son returns, he then

Shall give you coat and cassock, and bestow

Your person where your heart and soul is now.’

This said, he rose, made near the fire his bed,

Which all with goats’ and sheep skins he bespread,

All which Ulysses with himself did line.

With whom, besides, he changed a gaberdine,

Thick-lined, and soft, which still he made his shift

When he would dress him ’gainst the horrid drift

Of tempest, when deep winter’s season blows.

Nor pleas’d it him to lie there with his sows,

But while Ulysses slept there, and close by

The other younkers, he abroad would lie,

And therefore arm’d him. Which set cheerful fare

Before Ulysses’ heart, to see such care

Of his goods taken, how far off soever

His fate his person and his wealth should sever.

First then, a sharp-edg’d sword he girt about

His well-spread shoulders, and (to shelter out

The sharp west wind that blew) he put him on

A thick-lin’d jacket, and yet cast upon

All that the large hide of a goat, well fed.

A lance then took he, with a keen steel head,

To be his keep-off both ’gainst men and dogs.

And thus went he to rest with his male hogs,

That still abroad lay underneath a rock,

Shield to the north-wind’s ever-eager shock.

The end of the fourteenth book

Book 15

The Argument

Minerva to his native seat

Exhorts Ulysses’ son’s retreat,

In bed and waking. He receives

Gifts of Atrides, and so leaves

The Spartan court. And, going aboard,

Doth favourable way afford

To Theoclymenus, that was

The Argive augur, and sought pass,

Fled for a slaughter he had done.

Eumaeus tells Laertes’ son

How he became his father’s man,

Being sold by the Phoenician

For some agreed-on faculties,

From forth the Syrian Isle made prise.

Telemachus, arriv’d at home,

Doth to Eumaeus’ cottage come.

Another Argument

Omicron

From Sparta’s strand

Makes safe access

To his own land

Ulyssides.

Book 15

I
n
La
ced
aemon, large, and apt for dances,

Athenian Pallas her access advances

Up to the great-in-soul Ulysses’ seed,

Suggesting his return now fit for deed.

She found both him and Nestor’s noble son

In bed, in front of that fair mansion,

Nestorides surpris’d with pleasing sleep,

But on the watch Ulysses’ son did keep;

Sleep could not enter, cares did so excite

His soul, through all the solitary night,

For his lov’d father. To him, near, she said:

‘Telemachus! ’Tis time that now were stay’d

Thy foreign travels, since thy goods are free

For those proud men that all will eat from thee,

Divide thy whole possessions, and leave

Thy too-late presence nothing to receive.

Incite the shrill-voiced Menelaus then,

To send thee to thy native seat again,

While thou mayst yet find in her honour strong

Thy blameless mother ’gainst thy father’s wrong.

For both the father, and the brothers too,

Of thy lov’d mother, will not suffer so

Extended any more her widow’s bed,

But make her now her richest wooer wed,

Eurymachus, who chiefly may augment

Her gifts, and make her jointure eminent.

And therefore haste thee, lest, in thy despite,

Thy house stand empty of thy native right.

For well thou know’st what mind a woman bears;

The house of him, whoever she endears

Herself in nuptials to, she sees increas’d,

The issue of her first lov’d lord deceas’d

Forgotten quite, and never thought on more.

In thy return then, the re-counted store

Thou find’st reserv’d, to thy most trusted maid

Commit in guard, till heav
’
n’s pow’rs have purvey’d

A wife, in virtue and in beauty’s grace

Of fit sort for thee, to supply her place.

And this note more I’ll give thee, which repose

In sure remembrance: the best sort of those

That woo thy mother watchful scouts address,

Both in the straits of th’ Ithacensian seas,

And dusty Samos, with intent t’ invade

And take thy life, ere thy return be made.

Which yet I think will fail, and some of them

That waste thy fortunes taste of that extreme

They plot for thee. But keep off far from shore,

And day and night sail, for a fore-right blore

Whoever of th’ immortals that vow guard

And ’scape to thy return, will see prepar’d.

As soon as thou arriv’st, dismiss to town

Thy ship and men, and first of all make down

To him that keeps thy swine, and doth conceive

A tender care to see thee well survive.

There sleep; and send him to the town, to tell

The chaste Penelope, that safe and well

Thou liv’st in his charge, and that Pylos’ sands

The place contain’d from whence thy person lands.’

Thus she to large Olympus made ascent.

When with his heel a little touch he lent

To Nestor’s son, whose sleep’s sweet chains he loos’d,

Bad rise, and see in chariot inclos’d

Their one-hoo
f
’
d horse, that they might straight be gone.

‘No such haste,’ he replied. ‘Night holds her throne,

And dims all way to course of chariot.

The Morn will soon get up. Nor see forgot

The gifts with haste, that will, I know, be rich,

And put into our coach with gracious speech

By lance-fam’d Menelaus. Not a guest

Shall touch at his house, but shall store his breast

With fit mind of an hospitable man,

To last as long as any daylight can

His eyes recomfort, in such gifts as he

Will proofs make of his hearty royalty.’

He had no sooner said, but up arose

Aurora, that the golden hills repose.

And Menelaus, good-at-martial-cries,

From Helen’s bed rais’d, to his guest applies

His first appearance. Whose repair made known

T’ Ulysses’ lov’d son, on his robe was thrown

About his gracious body, his cloak cast

Athwart his ample shoulders, and in haste

Abroad he went, and did the king accost:

‘Atrides, guarded with heav’n’s deified host,

Grant now remission to my native right,

My mind now urging mine own house’s sight.’

‘Nor will I stay,’ said he, ‘thy person long,

Since thy desires to go are grown so strong.

I should myself be angry to sustain

The like detention urg’d by other men.

Who loves a guest past mean, past mean will hate;

The mean in all acts bears the best estate.

A like ill ’tis, to thrust out such a guest

As would not go, as to detain the rest.

We should a guest love, while he loves to stay,

And, when he likes not, give him loving way.

Yet suffer so, that we may gifts impose

In coach to thee; which ere our hands inclose,

Thine eyes shall see, lest else our loves may glose.

Besides, I’ll cause our women to prepare

What our house yields, and merely so much fare

As may suffice for health. Both well will do,

Both for our honour and our profit too.

And, serving strength with food, you after may

As much earth measure as will match the day.

If you will turn your course from sea, and go

Through Greece and Argos (that myself may so

Keep kind way with thee) I’ll join horse, and guide

T’ our human cities. Nor ungratified

Will any one remit us; some one thing

Will each present us, that along may bring

Our pass with love, and prove our virtues blaz’d:

A cauldron, or a tripod, richly braz’d,

Two mules, a bowl of gold, that hath his price

Heighten’d with emblems of some rare device.’

The wise prince answer’d: ‘I would gladly go

Home to mine own, and see that govern’d so

That I may keep what I for certain hold,

Not hazard that for only hoped-for gold.

I left behind me none so all ways fit

To give it guard, as mine own trust with it.

Besides, in this broad course which you propose,

My father seeking I myself may lose.’

When this the shrill-voic’d Menelaus heard,

He charg’d his queen and maids to see prepar’d

Breakfast, of what the whole house held for best.

To him rose Eteoneus from his rest,

Whose dwelling was not far off from the court,

And his attendance his command did sort

With kindling fires, and furth’ring all the roast,

In act of whose charge heard no time he lost.

Himself then to an odorous room descended,

Whom Megapenthe and his queen attended.

Come to his treasury, a two-ear’d cup

He choos’d of all, and made his son bear up

A silver bowl. The queen then taking stand

Aside her chest, where by her own fair hand

Lay vests of all hues wrought, she took out one

Most large, most artful, chiefly fair, and shone

Like to a star, and lay of all the last.

Then through the house with either’s gift they pass’d

When to Ulysses’ son Atrides said:

‘Telemachus, since so entirely sway’d

Thy thoughts are with thy vow’d return now tender’d,

May Juno’s thund’ring husband see it render’d

Perfect at all parts, action answering thought.

Of all the rich gifts in my treasure sought,

I give thee here the most in grace and best:

A bowl but silver, yet the brim’s compress’d

With gold, whose fabric his desert doth bring

From Vulcan’s hand, presented by the king

And great heroë of Sidonia’s state,

When at our parting he did consummate

His whole housekeeping. This do thou command.’

This said, he put the round bowl in his hand,

And then his strong son Megapenthe plac
’
d

The silver cup before him, amply grac’d

With work and lustre. Helen (standing by,

And in her hand the robe, her housewi
f
’
ry)

His name rememb’ring, said: ‘And I present,

Lov’d son, this gift to thee, the monument

Of the so-many-loved Helen’s hands,

Which, at the knitting of thy nuptial bands,

Present thy wife. In mean space, may it lie

By thy lov’d mother; but to me apply

Thy pleasure in it, and thus take thy way

To thy fair house, and country’s wished stay.’

Thus gave she to his hands the veil, and he

The acceptation author’d joyfully.

Which in the chariot’s chest Pisistratus

Plac’d with the rest, and held miraculous.

The yellow-headed king then led them all

To seats and thrones, plac’d in his spacious hall.

The hand-maid water brought, and gave it stream

From out a fair and golden ewer to them,

From whose hands to a silver cauldron fled

The troubled wave. A bright board then she spread,

On which another reverend dame set bread;

To which more servants store of victuals serv
’
d.

Eteonaeus was the man that carv’d,

And Megapenthe fill’d them all their wine.

All fed and drank, till all felt care decline

For those refreshings. Both the guests did go

To horse and coach, and forth the portico

A little issu’d, when the yellow king

Brought wine himself, that, with an offering

To all the gods, they might their journey take.

He stood before the gods, and thus he spake:

‘Farewell, young princes! To grave Nestor’s ear

This salutation from my gratitude bear:

That I profess, in all our Ilion wars,

He stood a careful father to my cares.’

To whom the wise Ulyssides replied:

‘With all our utmost shall be signified,

Jove-kept Atrides, your right royal will;

And would to god, I could as well fulfill

Mine own mind’s gratitude, for your free grace,

In telling to Ulysses, in the place

Of my return, in what accomplish’d kind

I have obtain’d the office of a friend

At your deservings; whose fair end you crown

With gifts so many, and of such renown!’

His wish, that he might find in his retreat

His father safe return’d (to so repeat

The king’s love to him) was saluted thus:

An eagle rose, and in her seres did truss

A goose, all white, and huge, a household one,

Which men and women, crying out upon,

Pursu’d, but she, being near the guests, her flight

Made on their right hand, and kept still fore-right

Before their horses; which observ’d by them,

The spirits in all their minds took joys extreme,

Which Nestor’s son thus question’d: ‘Jove-kept king,

Yield your grave thoughts, if this ostentful thing

(This eagle and this goose) touch us or you?’

He put to study, and not knowing how

To give fit answer, Helen took on her

Th’ ostent’s solution, and did this prefer:

‘Hear me, and I will play the prophet’s part,

As the immortals cast it in my heart,

And as, I think, will make the true sense known:

As this Jove’s bird, from out the mountains flown

(Where was her eyrie, and whence rose her race)

Truss’d up this goose, that from the house did graze,

So shall Ulysses, coming from the wild

Of seas and sufferings, reach, unreconcil’d,

His native home, where ev
’
n this hour he is,

And on those house-fed wooers those wrongs of his

Will shortly wreak, with all their miseries.’

‘O,’ said Telemachus, ‘if Saturnian Jove

To my desires thy dear presage approve,

When I arrive, I will perform to thee

My daily vows, as to a deity.’

This said, he used his scourge upon the horse,

That through the city freely made their course

To field, and all day made that first speed good.

But when the sun set, and obscureness stood

In each man’s way, they ended their access

At Pheras, in the house of Diocles,

Son to Orsilochus, Alpheus’ seed,

Who gave them guest-rites; and sleep’s natural need

They that night serv
’
d there. When Aurora rose,

They join’d their horse, took coach, and did dispose

Their course for Pylos; whose high city soon

They reach’d. Nor would Telemachus be won

To Nestor’s house, and therefore order’d thus

His speech to Nestor’s son, Pisistratus:

‘How shall I win thy promise to a grace

That I must ask of thee? We both embrace

The names of bed-fellows, and in that name

Will glory as an adjunct of our fame;

Our fathers’ friendship, our own equal age,

And our joint travel, may the more engage

Our mutual concord. Do not then assay,

My god-lov’d friend, to lead me from my way

To my near ship, but take a course direct

And leave me there, lest thy old sire’s respect,

In his desire to love me, hinder so

My way for home, that have such need to go.’

This said, Nestorides held all discourse

In his kind soul, how best he might enforce

Both promise and performance; which, at last,

He vow’d to venture, and directly cast

His horse about to fetch the ship and shore.

Where come, his friends’ most lovely gifts he bore

Aboard the ship, and in her hind-deck plac’d

The veil that Helen’s curious hand had grac’d,

And Menelaus’ gold, and said: ‘Away,

Nor let thy men in any least date stay,

But quite put off, ere I get home and tell

The old duke you are pass’d; for passing well