The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (102 page)

I know his mind to so exceed all force

Of any pray
’
r, that he will stay your course,

Himself make hither, all your course call back,

And, when he hath you, have no thought to rack

Him from his bounty, and to let you part

Without a present, but be vex’d at heart

With both our pleadings, if we once but move

The least repression of his fiery love.’

Thus took he coach, his fair-man’d steeds scourg’d on

Along the Pylian city, and anon

His father’s court reach’d; while Ulysses’ son

Bade board, and arm; which with a thought was done.

His rowers set, and he rich odours firing

In his hind-deck, for his secure retiring,

To great Athenia, to his ship came flying

A stranger, and a prophet, as relying

On wished passage, having newly slain

A man at Argos, yet his race’s vein

Flow’d from Melampus, who in former date

In Pylos liv’d, and had a huge estate,

But fled his country, and the punishing hand

Of great-soul’d Neleus, in a foreign land,

From that most famous mortal having held

A world of riches, nor could be compell’d

To render restitution in a year.

In mean space, living as close prisoner

In court of Phylacus, and for the sake

Of Neleus’ daughter, mighty cares did take,

Together with a grievous langour sent

From grave Erinnys, that did much torment

His vexed conscience; yet his life’s expense

He ’scap’d, and drave the loud-voic’d oxen thence,

To breed-sheep Pylos, bringing vengeance thus

Her foul demerit to great Neleus,

And to his brother’s house reduc’d his wife.

Who yet from Pylos did remove his life

For feed-horse Argos, where his fate set down

A dwelling for him, and in much renown

Made govern many Argives, where a spouse

He took to him, and built a famous house.

There had he born to him Antiphates,

And forceful Mantius. To the first of these

Was great Oïcleus born: Oïcleus gat

Amphiaräus, that the popular state

Had all their health in, whom ev
’
n from his heart

Jove lov’d, and Phoebus in the whole desert

Of friendship held him; yet not bless’d so much

That age’s threshold he did ever touch,

But lost his life by female bribery.

Yet two sons author’d his posterity,

Alcmaeon, and renown’d Amphilochus.

Mantius had issue Polyphidius,

And Clytus, but Aurora ravish’d him,

For excellence of his admired limb,

And interested him amongst the gods.

His brother knew men’s good and bad abodes

The best of all men, after the decease

Of him that perish’d in unnatural peace

At spacious Thebes. Apollo did inspire

His knowing soul with a prophetic fire.

Who, angry with his father, took his way

To Hyperesia; where, making stay,

He prophesied to all men, and had there

A son call’d Theoclymenus, who here

Came to Telemachus, and found aboard

Himself at sacrifice, whom in a word

He thus saluted: ‘O friend, since I find,

Ev’n here at ship, a sacrificing mind

Inform your actions, by your sacrifice,

And by that worthy choice of deities

To whom you offer, by yourself, and all

These men that serve your course maritimal,

Tell one that asks the truth, nor give it glose,

Both who, and whence, you are? From what seed rose

Your royal person? And what city’s tow’rs

Hold habitation to your parents’ pow’rs?’

He answer’d: ‘Stranger! The sure truth is this:

I am of Ithaca; my father is

(Or was) Ulysses, but austere death now

Takes his state from him; whose event to know,

Himself being long away, I set forth thus

With ship and soldiers.’ Theoclymenus

As freely said: ‘And I to thee am fled

From forth my country, for a man struck dead

By my unhappy hand, who was with me

Of one self-tribe, and of his pedigree

Are many friends and brothers, and the sway

Of Achive kindred reacheth far away.

From whom, because I fear their spleens suborn

Blood, and black fate against me (being born

To be a wand’rer among foreign men)

Make thy fair ship my rescue, and sustain

My life from slaughter. Thy deservings may

Perform that mercy, and to them I pray.’

‘Nor will I bar,’ said he, ‘thy will to make

My means and equal ship thy aid, but take

(With what we have here, in all friendly use)

Thy life from any violence that pursues.’

Thus took he in his lance, and it extended

Aloft the hatches, which himself ascended.

The prince took seat at stern, on his right hand

Set Theoclymenus, and gave command

To all his men to arm, and see made fast

Amidst the hollow keel the beechen mast

With able halsers, hoise sail, launch; which soon

He saw obey’d. And then his ship did run

A merry course; blue-eyed Minerva sent

A fore-right gale, tumultuous, vehement,

Along the air, that her way’s utmost yield

The ship might make, and plough the brackish field.

Then set the sun, and night black’d all the ways.

The ship, with Jove’s wind wing’d, where th’ Epian sways,

Fetch’d Pheras first, then Elis the divine,

And then for those isles made, that sea-ward shine

For form and sharpness like a lance’s head,

About which lay the wooers ambushed;

On which he rush’d, to try if he could ’scape

His plotted death, or serve her treach’rous rape.

And now return we to Eumaeus’ shed,

Where, at their food with others marshalled,

Ulysses and his noble herdsman sate.

To try if whose love’s curious estate

Stood firm to his abode, or felt it fade,

And so would take each best cause to persuade

His guest to town, Ulysses thus contends:

‘Hear me, Eumaeus, and ye other friends.

Next morn to town I covet to be gone,

To beg some others’ alms, not still charge one.

Advise me well then, and as well provide

I may be fitted with an honest guide,

For through the streets, since need will have it so,

I’ll tread, to try if any will bestow

A dish of drink on me, or bit of bread,

Till to Ulysses’ house I may he led;

And there I’ll tell all-wise Penelope news,

Mix with the wooers’ pride, and, since they use

To fare above the full, their hands excite

To some small feast from out their infinite:

For which I’ll wait, and play the servingman,

Fairly enough, command the most they can.

For I will tell thee, note me well, and hear,

That, if the will be of heav
’
n’s messenger,

(Who to the works of men, of any sort,

Can grace infuse, and glory) nothing short

Am I of him, that doth to most aspire

In any service, as to build a fire,

To cleave sere wood, to roast or boil their meat,

To wait at board, mix wine, or know the neat,

Or any work, in which the poor-call’d worst

To serve the rich-call’d best in fate are forc’d.’

He, angry with him, said: ‘Alas, poor guest,

Why did this counsel ever touch thy breast?

Thou seek’st thy utter spoil beyond all doubt,

If thou giv’st venture on the wooers’ rout,

Whose wrong and force affects the iron heav’n,

Their light delights are far from being giv’n

To such grave servitors. Youths richly trick’d

In coats or cassocks, locks divinely slick’d,

And looks most rapting, ever have the gift

To taste their crown’d cups, and full trenchers shift.

Their tables ever like their glasses shine,

Loaded with bread, with varied flesh, and wine.

And thou go thither? Stay, for here do none

Grudge at thy presence, nor myself, nor one

Of all I feed. But when Ulysses’ son

Again shall greet us, he shall put thee on

Both coat and cassock, and thy quick retreat

Set where thy heart and soul desire thy seat.’

Industrious Ulysses gave reply:

‘I still much wish, that heav
’
n’s chief deity

Lov’d thee as I do, that hast eas’d my mind

Of woes and wand’rings never yet confin’d.

Nought is more wretched in a human race,

Than country’s want, and shift from place to place.

But for the baneful belly men take care

Beyond good counsel, whosoever are

In compass of the wants it undergoes

By wand’rings, losses, or dependent woes.

Excuse me therefore, if I err’d at home;

Which since thou wilt make here, as overcome

With thy command for stay, I’ll take on me

Cares appertaining to this place, like thee.

Does then Ulysses’ sire, and mother, breathe,

Both whom he left in th’ age next door to death?

Or are they breathless, and descended where

The dark house is, that never day doth clear?’

‘Laertes lives,’ said he, ‘but every hour

Beseecheth Jove to take from him the pow’r

That joins his life and limbs; for with a moan

That breeds a marvel he laments his son

Depriv’d by death, and adds to that another

Of no less depth for that dead son’s dead mother,

Whom he a virgin wedded, which the more

Makes him lament her loss, and doth deplore

Yet more her miss, because her womb the truer

Was to his brave son, and his slaughter slew her.

Which last love to her doth his life engage,

And makes him live an undigested age.

O such a death she died as never may

Seize any one that here beholds the day,

That either is to any man a friend,

Or can a woman kill in such a kind.

As long as she had being, I would be

A still inquirer (since ’twas dear to me,

Though death to her, to hear his name) when she

Heard of Ulysses, for I might be bold –

She brought me up, and in her love did hold

My life compar
’
d with long-veil’d Ctimene,

Her youngest issue (in some small degree

Her daughter yet preferr’d), a brave young dame.

And when of youth the dearly-loved flame

Was lighted in us, marriage did prefer

The maid to Samos; whence was sent for her

Infinite riches, when the queen bestow’d

A fair new suit, new shoes, and all, and vow’d

Me to the field, but passing loath to part,

As loving me more than she lov’d her heart.

And these I want now; but their business grows

Upon me daily, which the gods impose,

To whom I hold all, give account to them,

For I see none left to the diadem

That may dispose all better. So, I drink

And eat of what is here; and whom I think

Worthy or reverend, I have given to, still,

These kinds of guest-rites; for the household ill

(Which, where the queen is, riots) takes her quite

From thought of these things. Nor is it delight

To hear, from her plight, of or work or word;

The wooers spoil all. But yet my men will board

Her sorrows often, with discourse of all,

Eating and drinking of the festival

That there is kept, and after bring to field

Such things as servants make their pleasures yield.

‘O me, Eumaeus,’ said Laertes’ son,

‘Hast thou then err’d so of a little one,

Like me, from friends and country? Pray thee say,

And say a truth, doth vast Destruction lay

Her hand upon the wide-way’d seat of men,

Where dwelt thy sire and reverend mother then,

That thou art spar’d there? Or else, set alone

In guard of beeves or sheep, set th’ enemy on,

Surpris’d and shipp’d, transferr’d, and sold thee here?

He that bought thee paid well, yet bought not dear.’

‘Since thou enquir’st of that, my guest,’ said he,

‘Hear and be silent, and, mean space, sit free

In use of these cups to thy most delights;

Unspeakable in length now are the nights.

Those that affect sleep yet, to sleep have leave,

Those that affect to hear, their hearers give.

But sleep not ere your hour; much sleep doth grieve.

Whoever lists to sleep, away to bed,

Together with the morning raise his head,

Together with his fellows break his fast,

And then his lord’s herd drive to their repast.

We two, still in our tabernacle here

Drinking and eating, will our bosoms cheer

With memories and tales of our annoys.

Betwixt his sorrows every human joys,

He most, who most hath felt and furthest err’d.

And now thy will to act shall be preferr’d.

There is an isle above Ortygia,

If thou hast heard, they call it Syria,

Where, once a day, the sun moves backward still.

’Tis not so great as good, for it doth fill

The fields with oxen, fills them still with sheep,

Fills roofs with wine, and makes all corn there cheap.

No dearth comes ever there, nor no disease

That doth with hate us wretched mortals seize,

But when men’s varied nations, dwelling there

In any city, enter th’ aged year,

The silver-bow-bearer, the Sun, and she

That bears as much renown for archery,

Stoop with their painless shafts, and strike them dead,

As one would sleep, and never keep the bed.

In this isle stand two cities, betwixt whom

All things that of the soil’s fertility come

In two parts are divided. And both these